Bernie Sanders is having a free rally up in Vancouver, WA. The news this morning showed the line stretching out forever. People standing in the rain. I counted only a handful of umbrellas. That's the NW, the rainiest place in the world, I think, since I've been almost nowhere else and have limited perspective, yet people are proud to own no umbrella. That's me, no umbrella. Why bother? We're wet to the core here.
My walking is painful. I have a sliver, probably wood, center ball of my left foot. It's driven in deep. Try as I might, I can't contort enough to dig it out myself. I've been trying, because it hurts.
I soak my foot in warm water and salt, to no avail. When I walk, it gets pushed in further. I cut moleskin squares I then fold in two and cut a half circle in the middle, unfold, and stick to my foot bottom with the hole over the sliver to take the pressure off so maybe it will work out instead of being driven in by the pressure of walking on it. But it needs out of there. My insurance does not pay for such nonsense as sliver removal.
Still trying to catch the shaggy unkempt orange and white male, who comes through without routine. He badly needs neutered. So I had the trap set this morning. Instead, when I saw the trap was sprung and went over, I am met by hisses and growls from the closed trap. I knew it was Ghandi, without looking. Sure enough. I gave him two plates of wet food before opening the trap. He ate them loudly. Then I let him out. He growled under his breath as he marched off. "Come again, sweetie" I called after him.
Something about him.
Reminds me of Prince George.
|Prince George when I trapped him to be fixed|
Prince George was a mess when I trapped him after he came through my yard a few years ago. After that, he'd get in the trap sometimes twice a day, just for the wet food. Once I saw him trotting with purpose down the bike lane of the street behind me headed for my place, so I quickly circled around the blocks, to get home before he got here and put out wet food for him.
Then he turned up a few blocks away on a friends porch. She took him in and he lives a grand life now, as a house boy. He is princely, I must say, huge and sweet and now loved. It's all he ever wanted.
|Prince George Now, Taken in, Loved, a House Boy|
The big boys often get lost or forgotten or left because of their spray marking fighting wandering ways. After neuter, they settle down and can be the best most loyal and loving kitties.
Their "owners" are often long gone. I feel for the lost boys. Unfixed males have no friends.
Supposed to take three to be fixed tomorrow, but it all depends on those catching them. One is Fletcher, the escape artist, from over at the colony I tried to "fix" without a lot of luck. He's the guy who broke my trap then broke out of his caretaker's carrier too. I don't know if they'll get him in it again. He lives on a porch over there.
Another who will hopefully be fixed tomorrow is a Lebanon boy, originally one of five kittens taken in, by a family, from people giving them away free in front of a store. Those people who took all five can barely care for themselves. One of the males is already dead, hit by a car. Two more males have gone wild and roamed off looking for females. The only female of the five was fixed by a neighbor who now also feeds the survivors. So the one boy still around, that same neighbor is going to try to contain to be fixed, to save his life. He's lucky she cares. The other kitty is a Sweet Home male.
I do love getting the boys fixed. Chances are, then they'll never become a Prince George or a Ghandi, out on their own, miserable, fighting, although both boys ended up lucky when they encountered my set trap.