Friday, February 11, 2011

Fricking Had It with the Drug Culture



UPDATE: I may be all wrong on this cat. Last night, I stayed up late looking up lost orange long hair cat ads and responded to one out of Sweet Home. They contacted me back today, and their cat forced his way through a cracked window in their van while they were in the library. This would account for the sore on his side. Their cat was not neutered, so I told them I am taking him to be neutered, since if it isn't their cat, I cannot hold an unneutered male in my garage even due to the effect on my own cats. How would a Sweet Home cat get to Albany? Somebody felt sorry for him, picked him up, brought him here, then kicked him out. Or, since he's used to riding in cars, as a hitchalong in a car, that's how. Am so much hoping it is their cat. If it is, they are going to pay for his neuter. It would be such a wonderful thing, for him, for me too, to have a happy ending for once.

I have had it with the drug culture around here, that fosters thievery and general selfishness, since druggies have sold their souls and couldn't care less about anything except getting their drugs.

Another victim of this despicable culture wandered into my trap tonight. The "rabid cat", as he was described to me yesterday in a phone message, over there at the complex where I'm trying to catch Turtle, to get her out of there.

The other tenant, who told me the "rabid cat" was a tame fat orange male, was wrong too about him. He does have severe hair loss with open running raw skin and sores where the hair is missing. I don't know what could have caused that. I don't know if he scraped himself terribly trying to get under the building or when being thrown from a car or being hit by a car or if he has a disease like FIV, although he isn't very old or if he is seriously stressed over being abandoned or if he lived inside an inflammatory environment like an apartment where meth or crack is smoked.

I have not even checked to see if he is neutered. He cries when he moves, so I'm guessing he got hit by a car or thrown from one. He's sweet. I'm sick to my heart over all the fricking crap in this town that happens to animals.

Some woman died in a motor home in the Kmart parking lot and apparently wasn't missed or discovered for a week in there dead. She was living in it. Now her relatives are up in arms because they believe she was killed over a recent settlement from a lawsuit. She'd been hit by a car when riding a bike and gotten $13,000 from it right before she died and that is missing. The cops apparently aren't interested in pursuing a case and will just say she had health issues. She was a drug addict, too. But the motor home was stripped of all appliances and other possessions before the family could pick it up. Right there, cops, that's a crime. The family is really sure someone gave her an overdose of drugs then stole the recently acquired money from the settlement. Sounds like they have a good thought as to who did it, also.

There's too much drug crap going on around this little town. It's everywhere.

And it results in horrible things happening to innocents, like animals and kids. Then the kids of the druggies and alcoholics grow up damaged and become druggies and alcoholics themselves.

I don't know what happened to this poor cat. He's new over there, they say, in the last couple of days. I got no place for him, no money to have him tested, treated for all his ailments. I'm fed up and determined to get the hell away from here for good.

I've been out trying to clean his ears in the garage, in my car, him still in the trap, holding a flashlight. He purrs to be touched and starts to knead shyly, humbly. His ears are crusted on the outside with scabs from scratching due to earmites and inside one ear, he has scabs that have become infected from all the scratching at the damn earmites. I had some lidocaine and put some on the open raw sores on his backside, where his hair is gone, where a super large flea was dying, after I treated him with Advantage. I mean super sized flea, like an eighth inch long.

He has the feel of an FIV positive male to his hair, but maybe it's the scabs giving me that feel, but I have a good touch to know FIV, by the hair feel, so I think he will be positive. That doesn't mean he has to die. But where can he go? Where? Makes me mad, so mad, so preventable, why did someone abandon him, is he from the townhouses farther down, maybe the one with the back fenced area full to the brim of reeking trash bags? Why do people live like pigs? Why do people who choose to live like pigs have kids or get cats?

So I asked the original "rabid cat" caller why she would say he was foaming at the mouth. She pointed to the back of his ears, torn up and bleeding from ear mite distress, and said, "Well that looked like it to me."

Ok.

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