Tough Old Woman

Nick stopped by yesterday morning. He wanted to see if I would go with him, with my drop trap, to try to nab a female cat, who had had multiple litters, at a disabled elderly trailer park in Albany. So I went.

He's been trying to solve this for about a year. He'd said it was a tough situation. Lots of drama and bored people. Over involvement. If you know what I mean. You'd have to know the drama that goes on in such places. I sure do. I lived at the Benton Plaza 11 years and the Julian Hotel for 3.

Clustering bored disabled/low income/elderly people together in "projects" isn't always wise. The drama of one life magnifies by a factor of however many people live in the "project". Life can be miserable in such places, due to people getting into one another's business and overdramatizing everything.

Well anyhow. I braced myself.

The old woman was a tough sort who knows almost everything already. She knew how things should be done and why weren't we doing things that way, she wanted to know. I tried to explain it and thought I got through but then I realized I hadn't. It's like talking to yourself almost. Pretty soon she wanted to know if I knew anybody with a dart gun. She wanted to shoot and tranquilize the cat she couldn't catch. She couldn't catch the cat because she wouldn't leave it alone, from pounding on a food dish with a spoon to try to "bring her in", to shaking cat food containers, in and out of the trailer.

I couldn't take it. My nephew was going to stop by. I hadn't spent any time with him forever. I was looking forward to him coming. I was already dog tired. I didn't want to run off at the mouth from too much caffeine and make a fool of myself, as I'm prone to do, if I'm alert artifically on coffee consumption. Not in front of my visiting nephew whom I rarely see. He'd never return! "Crazy old Aunt Jody," I could hear him muttering, as he shook his head sadly, describing me to his friends.

Nick and I cruised the rest of the units. We found a gray cat, tame, fixed and overfed. The tough old gal had told us about an unfixed male fighting in the street. She said there was a striped one, too. "Oh," I said, "a tabby, huh?"

Tough Old Gal looked at me increduously, like I was stupid, and hadn't heard her. "NO!" she said, outraged at my mistake, "a striped cat!" My eyes met Nicks'. We were giving each other the look.

About that time someone drove by, got out at their unit, two kids in tow. "Let's talk to her," I said to Nick.

She said that gray cat was hers, and she wished that other woman, referring to a second woman who feeds strays, wouldn't feed him because he's fat and her cat and how come that woman was feeding him. We said we didn't know. I suggested she keep her cat inside if she didn't want him to dine everywhere else. Well, she couldn't, you see, because it upset him to be inside, and then she has the other cat, the unfixed female. "Oh," I said, "will you be getting that female fixed then, real soon I hope?" She then told us the second stray feeding tenant had borrowed her trap to catch the Tough Old Gal's elusive female's kittens and taken them to a farm.

We then went to talk to Second Stray Feeder. We asked about the kittens. "Oh, I didn't really take them to a barn," she said, "I just told people that. I had them put down." Nick and I gave each other the look again.

Second Stray Feeder says she feeds about six cats, all males, none of them fixed, besides the very badly owned over weight fixed gray male, whom, she said proudly and defensively, she keeps inside her trailer at night, because his real owners won't let him inside at night and it's cold and he's old. Nick and I gave each other looks again, this time with barely noticable hints of approval.

She agreed to feed in one of Nick's traps, tied open so it won't spring.

Later in the day, Tough Old Gal calls to say Second Stray Feeder isn't doing things right, not feeding in the trap right. I said, "Well, I bet you'll set her straight."

Just as my nephew arrived, Nick calls me up. He's gotten a few calls from Tough Old Gal. The gray unfixed male is caught and can I go get him. I let my nephew drive me over, in his rig, which has a magnificent sound system. He's young. Sometimes I forget how glorious it is.

We pick up big loud gray male. He's outraged. Tough Old Gal is enthusiastic over catching him, like a country cop who's cornered a car full of underage drinkers.

She calls me this morning too. Why aren't I over there, with the drop trap, because "she's" here, right now. I told her I'd barely gotten going, and she softened instantly, realizing perhaps she'd been a bit demanding. I told her I'd be there in 20 minutes. I headed over.

The two females were there, one fixed, one not. I set up the drop trap and she was going to yank that string too soon. I had to hang on to her shirt tail to keep her away for the few seconds it took for the unfixed female to get under there. Then I yanked it. The drop trap fell.

Tough Old Gal tackled it like a football player. It was amazing. She's quick. She hung on good while I covered the drop trap and transferred the unfixed cat out to a live trap. Then we let the other fixed female go. Boy oh boy was she happy. I don't blame her.

Tonight, I went out to feed the big male again, only I'd found my flashlight and I got a better look and he has an eartip. He's already fixed! I'll take him back in the morning. I think we're making progress when strays showing up to eat that were not fixed there, are already fixed.

So Nick brought me back the kitten we'd picked up there too, that he trapped a day or two earlier there, the last one, of her last litter. A rescuer took in the others. He's tired out and was going to hold it until the clinic Sunday but can't, no time. So I'll get that kitten and the unfixed adult female done through Poppa on Tuesday.

That is one Tough Old Get Things Done Gal. I like her. I think she's cool.