Saturday, April 29, 2017

Life Gets Strange

I returned to the Albany colony, where I trapped 16 last November, because more unfixed cats had shown up.   Both seen are teens, but then I saw the adult male too.  I caught one of the teens, obviously pregnant, afternoon before last.  Yesterday, I caught the second.

The 85 + year old woman had not yet talked to a neighbor, around whose place the cats hang out, so I did.   What is it these days, with neighbors all hostile and suspicious of each other, so they make up things in their minds about them, when they've never talked to them?

He seems like a nice enough guy and feeds the cats too and gave me the low down.   There is another adult female, who has probably had her kittens two days ago.  There's the adult male. And at least two other teens, the age of the two I had already caught, to catch.
Unfixed Long Hair black male

I take the teen I caught home, after going to feed the farm colony with her or him, still in the back of the car.  I put her or him into the same cage as the other one, thinking that will make both happier until they can be fixed.  I quickly realize my mistake when the cat starts into the carrier where his or her sister is, then quickly backs out.  She's having kittens.

I close the carrier door, so she and her first kitten, who is white, will be safe from the second cat, all scared from the new environment.  I don't want the newly trapped cat to rush into that carrier and mess up this natural process of birth taking place.   I pull the carrier out of that cage, my only big cage, and quickly set up my teeny one.  It won't even hold a litter box AND small carrier and the carrier was too small for comfortable birthing.

I put out an online plea for help.  My only other cage, of medium size, is being borrowed by the Shedd colony caretakers to house one of their boy cats who got injured, probably from surprising a nutria.

Chelsea, a Lebanon groomer, brings over one of her cages.  But its just as small as the one she's in.  So what do her and her friend do?  They drive all the way back to Lebanon to pick up her bigger cage, then bring it back here, arriving at about 11:30 p.m.  In the meantime, another Albany rescue woman, young and pregnant herself, brings me a can of KMR (Kitten Milk Replacement) just in case the teen mom won't feed her babies.

By this time, teen black mom has delivered two white kittens.  I think that's all there will be.  We transfer her to the larger cage, nice big carrier, nice cozy blanket in it, and then hand her the two white babies she's delivered.

I go to bed.  But this morning, there is at least one more kitten, this one black, but I think there are two more.  I'm leaving her alone, for the most part, but I did take a quick video.

Better they are born in the garage than under a trailer.

But still, its kind of a long responsibility on me, because most shelters or rescues are not going to foster a feral teen mom and her babes.

Got to roll with the punches, however.   And look on the bright side.

I also received a call from a N. Albany woman.  I got a mom and four or five teens fixed there last fall.  But there's a big tom with issues roaming and fighting there and she'd closed him under the house, she thought at 6:00 a.m. when she heard fighting and saw him peeking out from the crawlspace vent hole.

 I went over with a trap, but the close off where he can get in and out, wasn't completely closed off.  She's put a yard stool over on its side across the opening with a rock behind it to hold it there.   She did that immediately to the other opening too.   But there's space to get out on the side on each and he may have already exited.  If not, maybe he'll come out and into the trap and maybe he won't and maybe instead some big possum will.

I have a cinder block behind the trap whose door is almost but not quite flush against the house over the vent hole into the crawl space.  The trap is perpendicular to the side of the house. I blocked the spaces on the side too, where the door extends out and better blocked the second opening to the crawl space.   Now its a wait game there, to see if he's even under there or comes out into the trap.  

I've never seen him but I feel sorry for him.  He has no friends, only enemies, like most unfixed adult males.  Nobody wants him or likes him, because he fights and spray marks.  They claim the other tom they feed is fixed but he isn't.  They claim this male drove him away and I told them no, he's off looking for unfixed females.

I will need to find spay neuter reservations.  I tried calling the Salem clinic, and got no answer on Friday.  I left a message.  I have a message also in with Heartland's surgical staff, but so far have not heard back.  Crossing my fingers I can get some reservations somewhere soon.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Mangos and New Hobby

Spring clean up is burning through my veins today. In the process I ran across this poem I wrote many years ago. Yeah, I love mango's.

Why Can't I Eat a Mango on the City Bus

It's sort of a small town
In a kind of backward state
But it's really all these petty rules
That I just can't seem to tolerate.

Don't smoke! Don't jaywalk!
And you are damned to hell if you cuss!
But I am completely at a loss to know
Why I can't eat a mango on the city bus!

It being citrus and all
Vitamin C in every slice!
This bus driver swears they taste like turpentine
But to me they taste like paradise.

So I'd been over to Safeway one day
And found a nice ripe one on sale
I really was just going to walk on home
But it started pouring down rain mixed with hail.

So I crept onto the city bus
with my mango safely stashed.
"You smell that turpentine?" the bus driver asked.
"Naw, I think its Budweiser," and I pointed out the trash.
"You drivers sure know how to have fun," I winked.
"Take your seat!" she demanded,
"and shove that attitude up your ass!"

So I did, I took a seat
Way off to one side
And sat down to enjoy my Mango
and very last city bus ride.

That bus driver kept looking back
In her rear view mirror towards my side
She was sniffling at the air
And giving me the evil eye.

Next thing I know, the cops were on the bus
Yelling, "Get down, this is a raid!"
I tried to wipe my mouth off
Because I was pretty sure I'd been made.

"I just adore these city buses...
and well, you know, I almost never even eat."
That's what I babbled to those cops
as they yanked the remnants of my mango
from underneath the city bus seat.

I got a whole fistful of tickets
For innumerable infractions
And was hauled off howling by the SWAT team
and taken over to county corrections.

Because I had peeled my tropical fruit
with a deadly Swiss Army knife
They said "That's assault with intent
and you'll probably get ten to life."

I stood before that judge
(recalling not to cuss)
And pled, with ignorant heart:
"Why can't I eat a mango on the city bus?"

That judge broke out in smiles!
And said "So, you like them, too?"
They taste nothing at all like turpentine
Or any type of glue.

"I find you Guilty!"
I hope this sentence will be fitting!
You get....six months in Paradise!
All expenses paid by the city!"

"Yeah! All right!" I cheered.
"This justice system is great!"
No dark and dreary prison cell for me!
a tropical beach will be my fate!"

The judge called after me,
"Hey, you might want this!"
And he tossed me a nice ripe mango
From behind his great big city desk!"

by Me!

What's my new hobby? I watch the slugs, who have come into the garage to get out of the rain and clean up dropped cat food pieces.


Do I need some sun or what?

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

All Wet

The swamp deepens.

Every day more rain falls to add to the grays and drears and general soggy dispositions of Oregon.

For example:  In this town, we generally get about 42 inches of rain a year.  The water year begins October 1.  Since that date, we've already had 51.5 inches of rain fall.   We've got months to go, to the water year's end, and already are ten inches beyond normal.  WTF?

My brother called yesterday.  He said the sun came out briefly and he was scared. I countered I saw the sun once last week and had to shield my eyes.

Others take off, max out credit cards or sell what they have to go on sun seeking quests to far away islands.

I don't think my older friend, who grew up on the east coast, in the sun and swelter there, has gotten out of bed for weeks.  Why should she?  Why shouldn't we all just hibernate?

Give me a reason?

I asked my brother that and he began quoting Fargo lines.  He'd become bored, couldn't work due to......rain....and watched Fargo, the movie not the series, online.  He said it could be worse, we could be living in Minnesota, don't ya know.  I told him I'd almost finished a stamp design I was sure the post office would accept.

Yesterday I took off and ran over something big in my driveway.  "Ah shucks," I thought, the darn dirt bag.   Yeah I got some dirt, which isn't dirt cheap, at Walmart, to mix into a small bag of grass seed, to try to cover constant bare spots in the yard.   It's like hair plugs that never take.  Exercise in futility.  You'd think grass seed be cheap here in grass seed capital of the world--Linn County. But nooooo!   It's cheap like gold.  No wonder those seed farmers have private planes!  Every year I try to patch the bald spots.

So I got these two bags of cheap dirt and keep running over them when I back out.  This time however, after I backed out, thump, thump, hit it twice, I ran over something big two blocks and two corners down the road, with my rear tire.  "Hmmm," I thought.  "Hope that wasn't a small child."

I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw something lumpy and white in the road.   Dawned on me fast.  The dirt bag!

I debated just leaving it, but like I say, dirt's not cheap. I wasn't going to leave that like money on the road.  I did a U turn, parked and ran out and grabbed up my bag of dirt, from the pavement, clutching it to me like a baby, glancing this way and that, hoping nobody had a camera phone going.  I really don't want to be a viral video star.

I was kind of in awe.  That bag had plowed along under my car for over two blocks before cutting loose on that last corner.  Now it had just one small tear.

If that bag can skate along under a car, barely damaged, I can endure the endless rain.

Can't I?

Now I'm drawing life lessons from a bag of dirt?  This may be a symptom of Vitamin D shortage.

Or cabin fever.

I pulled out my rose colored glasses, cleaned off the wet plastic lenses and put them on.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Road Trip with Cats

I had not been to the coast affordable clinic for some time.

Chessie needed to go again, however.  I feared she needed all remaining teeth pulled.   Chessie is elderly.  I don't know exactly how old but she wasn't young when I took her in.   Dumped like trash to fend on her own outside an Albany apartment complex, I took her in with her last litter, then teens, when some neighbor took up shooting at them with a bow and arrow.

She got a left ear tip when fixed at the Neuterscooter clinic.

Chessie had already had three or four dentals.  The last one was in December of 2016.   The vet said then she might need them all pulled.   So I figured that would happen, when we set out yesterday, her in a carrier in the back of the car.  It was 4:30 a.m. and not light yet.

Miss Daisy went along.  She gets meds for her ibs, which is likely food allergy caused but with so many cats I can't feed her alone special limited ingredient food and its too expensive to feed them all special food.   So she has to be on meds and hadn't been seen in a year so to get the med for the next year (they send it when I'm out), she rode along.

I made the appointment weeks ago.  How in the world did I luck out, in the worst winter in Oregon we've had for ages, to get the one sunny day!!!   I lucked out!

After dropping the cats at the clinic and yes, Miss D got attitude with the vet, so she had to be knocked out for the blood draw, I went to the beach!

I drove south past Seaside, with its long boring flat stretches of beach, and shiney tourist traps filled with cheap gadgets, over priced candy and carmel corn and salt water taffy, and sand bike rentals.  I drove south past the playground of the second house Portland area rich, Canon Beach, bypassed my usual beach haunts Arcadia and Hug Point,  and parked at Oswald West.     You can park on the west side of the highway to hike trails that go up a bluff and beyond, or fork down to Short Sands Beach.   Or you can park on the east side of the highway and hike under 101, and a short half mile, well groomed easy trail, to the beach.

I like the old growth forest there.  The trail is highly used, so you won't be finding solitude along it.  Mostly its surfers who walk in from that parking lot on the highway to Short Sands Beach, carrying boards under an arm or atop their heads.  They closed down overnight camping above the beach, due to vandalism and trash.

I climbed down the wooden steps, once I got to the beach, formed and filled with earth and rock, crossed the stretch of rocks to sand, found a log, laid down my sweatshirt beside the log, used my daypack for a pillow and conked out.  Yup, I was sleepy.  I could barely believe the sun was out in Oregon and it wasn't raining.

I woke an hour later to a dog sniffing me over.  There were fewer dogs than surfers on the beach but there were lots of dogs. They ran alone or in pairs, chasing balls or one another, in and out of the surf, having the best old time ever!  The crowd frequenting the beach are not the types to pick up the poo, so if you go there, watch your step.  Dog poo is about as common as surfers taking selfies.

Despite the vast number of surfers spread out along the relatively small beach, many who climbed down the steps with an urgent look after seeing other surfers and the water, I saw very few actually ride a wave.  Many went out into the ocean, hopping waves as they walked out, but then seemed to just stand.  That's what it looked like to me.  I thought I was going to see TV like wave riding.  I didn't.  I saw lots of surfers out on the beach and in the water but most were not surfing.   Every now and then one would pop up out of the water for a few seconds to ride a curling wave.

Oregon surfers need good wet or dry suits.


I love the trail in. The trees are beautiful! There were several forks off the main beach trail, with trail signs, all headed various degrees of south off the beach trail.  I followed one trail that left the beach trail, but then that trail forked off of it, with a sign that said Hemlock trail, but it forked too, and I knew I could get lost, without a trail map.  You can't get too lost, granted, since you know you are between highway 101 and the Pacific ocean.  I didn't have the time to explore.  Cat pick up, at the clinic, was 3:00 p.m.

I went down to the south jetty beach too, where the Columbia River meets the Pacific ocean.  I play a game sometimes, when I see garbage items at the high tide mark. I pretend I'm stranded, alone and have to survive with only what I find.

Big wood bin at the beach

Looking inside it

Bar code on siding from the bin that stripped off

Lazy Fricking Car People Driving on the Beach--Hey, our freeways and roads are crammed with cars.  Can we at least be free of them in the little strip of sand between the land and the sea.  

Washington state across the mouth of the Columbia River

I got home about 7:30 p.m. Chessie had four teeth pulled in the end.  Miss Daisy's blood work came out just fine and she has another year on her prescription for her meds now.

Miss D

Thursday, April 20, 2017

The Porn Shop Cats

Why do cats and porn shops go together?

Hell if I know.

But they seem to.

I trapped behind a porn shop in Corvallis for kittens years ago.   Boy, was that interesting.  I remember wading the canal full of muck and trash behind it and a Chinese place, to get to a trap I'd set.  It was closed, I could see.   I pull up the towel covering it, where the trap was set, along the far bank of that ditch full of ick, and a HUGE rat comes right at me, from inside the trap, like he was waiting for that moment, to make his move.  I jumped backwards so bad I lost my footing and dunked myself almost completely in the mire.   The rat earned his freedom.   I admire pluck like that.

I trapped behind and around the porn shop in Springfield years ago too.   The Best Buy was being built then.  I followed cats around cars parked in the empty lot clear til 3:00 in the morning.  I took a break over to the IHOP then, got breakfast, coffee, read the paper.  The paper told about a missing Arizona man, described his jeep, gave the plate number.   It rang a bell.  Wasn't that the same jeep I'd been setting traps around, after this one tuxedo?   I went back over.  Plate number matched.  I peeked in.  It was steamed up and saw the glare of something, looked like dead eyes to me.   I jumped back that time too.  When I recovered, I went and called my friend, who put me up to the trapping there.  I figured I shouldn't call this in.  How would I explain what the hell I was doing there at such an hour.  Other cat trappers would sure understand but I didn't want to spend time at the police station explaining a cat trapper's ways.  My friend called it in to police.

Turned out the guy killed himself.

So now a call about another porn shop with cats?   Why not?  This time it was the porn shop in Albany.

There were three cats and they did not feed them but were disturbed by the fighting and spray marking going on under the building.  The girl was pregnant.  The two boys were easy catches after they split up.  Had to get between them, to trap them, otherwise, they were just all intent on killing each other.   Damn hormones.

Next day, I came back and caught the girl.  Yeah, she was pregnant.

Named them Bambi, Magic Mike and Guido.

Nice porn shop cat names, I thought.

The two boys are now in Sweet Home with the woman who received the call.  She has a one person nonprofit too.  I got all three fixed today, however, first, at Heartland.   The girl was picked up by a friend of mine.  She needed a girl barn cat.  The boys aren't doing the job.

Magic Mike


Yesterday wasn't so good other than catching Bambi early on.  I got sick, something I ate the night before I think.   Oh my.  All day.  Misery.   I tried to bend over to change Magic Mike's trap papers and ended up hurling all over the garage.    Then I had to clean that up.

I'd hurt my shoulder even worse, with just a slight turn when getting into my car.  There was a pop sound, and horrible pain in my shoulder and down my arm.   I had slept most of the day after that, trying to rid myself of the stomach problems and the shoulder pain.

But the problems were not over.  I move my car in, before bed at night, and heard a hissing sound.  A tire was going flat, losing air fast.   I had to bite the bullet so to speak, take the tire off, put the donut on, all with a screaming shoulder.  That's life.

I did get the cats over to Heartland this morning, to be fixed, with the donut on the one wheel, no problemo.   Then I went to Schwab and got four new tires, their lowest end, but they still are supposed to take me 40k miles which would put my mileage if they went 40K miles indeed, at 320,000 more or less.  Dream on!   I almost went for the 60K mile tires.  I have faith in my car!

My contractor friend came soon after I got home from Schwab and getting the tires.  I'd got the metal T posts to secure the side fence that crosses the driveway.  He brought his electric concrete drill and drilled out holes at the base of the wood 4x4 posts.  Then he pounded the T posts in, first with a short handled sledge hammer, then with a metal tube that goes over the fence post.  One end is open, one isn't.  It has handles on both sides.  He raised that up and slammed it down against the top of the metal T post until he'd driven the 7 foot post down several feet into the wet ground beneath the concrete.  He did that for three posts then secured the metal posts to the wood posts with conduit straps I bought at Home Depot when I bought the T posts.  All the while he is cracking jokes.  He is the funniest guy.  His wife was in the car entertaining the grandchild who was polite as could be and said with serious mouth and bunched up eyes, like he was trying to get it out right, "Pleased to meet you," when I leaned in through the open car window to say hello.

The fence is rock solid now.   He looked it up and down, and said "You did a good job on it."  I felt pride well in me, for that to come from the mouth of a professional.

So the porn shop cats are caught, fixed and gone.  The car tires are good now.  The fence is solid.   And my shoulder?  Well, time heals, is all I can think to say.

Monday, April 17, 2017

The Trouble with Fences in Oregon

Fences, moisture and wind don't live well together on the same block.

Or shouldn't.  Not in Oregon.  We get a lot of rain and a lot of windstorms.

And as with everything else, age takes it toll.

A new home owner behind my neighbor to the south came over last week to this block.  He was trying to contact the neighbor next to me, because he lives behind her and the windstorm nearly toppled the back fence they share.  Probably neither one knew whose fence it really was.

He is tearing it down and replacing it.  He hired a guy.

I know who owns the fence behind my place.  The neighbor behind me.  I know that because I found the property monument back there when building my side fence.  A chain link fence ran along the back and side of this property when I moved in, and is the original property line fence.  My brother's worker guy cut part of that chain link off to use on the cat yard, when that was built ten years ago, since behind it was the wood fence, on the neighbor's property.   The chain link, only three feet high, runs behind the house on the north next to me too, and T's off to run up between my yard and the one to the north, to split my yard from dead Jack's property.  But the property monument was two inches this side of the steel post where it Tee'd, so I built the side fence two inches beyong it, into my side.

The properties at the back are offset 8 feet.  The property behind me, in other words, runs 8 feet behind my neighbors property to the north.  The wooden fence out back continues on behind their chain link 8 feet.  Down at the south back of this property, the chain link running at the back of my property goes 8 feet behind a strange section of wood fence that is 8 feet long and in front of it.  That section was likely built by someone in the past who lived here, for some reason.

Anyhow, the back fence behind the chain link is on the property behind me.  A Utah based house flipper had bought that property and why they didn't replace the rotted fence, before selling it, I don't know.  That's flippers for you.   Now a 20 foot section is detached.  The new owners, whom I don't know, have it propped up on their side, propped so it may fall and it will because its completely detached from posts, onto my side.

Bummer when they've just moved in about a month or so ago.

And have small kids.

I've tried to call my brother about what to do but so far, no response.

It's their fence, after all, not mine.  But if it falls onto this place, they will need to do the clean up.   Beyond that, I don't want open space between them and me.  I'm a private person.  I don't want their little kids running around my yard.

Do I have to borrow money and build another fence, I wonder.

They never used to be so expensive to build but they sure are now.

The side fence I built where it attaches into the concrete along the driveway was damaged by the house flippers when they worked on that house.   I wanted my brother to make them pay to repair it, but he never did.  then along came the windstorm.  The fence held, remarkably, but end of this week, a contractor friend, whom I helped with cats, will drill holes through the concrete and pound in T posts and we will secure the wood fence posts to those metal ones.

Also unfortunate, I injured my shoulder, neck, upper back someway when the utility shelving fell apart first of last week.   I've had to do pretty much nothing since then, rest, ice, aleve, all that.  And still this week too.

The lawn grows, and also the weeds, the fence out back is falling, but there's not a thing I can do about it, until my shoulder heals.  Otherwise, I'll have shoulder problems for months.   Sometimes you can't do nothing about nothing.

I'm good with it.   I even turned my phone off last night.   The silence was awesome.  I rarely watch TV in the evening either.  Seems to be nothing on worth watching.  I get the major network stations, with antenna--FOX, ABC, CBS, NBC and PBS but that's it.  It's plenty, especially when there's nothing to watch even on those networks.

For Easter I did exactly nothing too.  When you hurt yourself and can't do anything or help anybody else with their stuff, you find out fast who your friends are.  Kind of a good thing to know.

It's that time of year.  The time of year I rid myself of everything I haven't used in the last year.   I don't like having things sitting around I don't use.   So if its something someone else will use, I give it to a thrift store.  If its junk, its waits for garbage space, which is limited.   My friend stopped by a few days ago, for like three minutes.  She wanted to give me two DVD's and a DVD player even though I already have a DVD player that I rarely use.  I declined although I felt bad doing it.  I know she's cleaning out her garage too.  I just can't pile on more.

She left a book for me to read too that she liked, but she wants it back.  I don't like taking on things that need returned, especially paper product things, that cats can tear up or pee on.  I finally relented and took it.  I don't borrow books or DVD's from the library for the same reason---the cats!

Friday, April 14, 2017

Seven Cats Fixed This Week

I suppose getting just seven cats fixed this week makes it a slow week.

Monday five got fixed and Thursday two more got fixed.

The five fixed Monday?

There was Oden, from a Halsey stables.
Oden from Halsey
There was Trevor from Lebanon.   He was one of five kittens neighbors got free in front of stores, where clueless owners handed them off to strangers.   Those five cats were quickly ignored then out on their own where one was killed on the street while the other four struggled and most finally took up eating at a neighbors house.   One by one, she caught them and we got them fixed.  But Trevor vanished, ended up in a nearby trailer park, then got closed into an old trailer on another property by accident for three weeks and is very lucky to be alive.   Trevor finally got fixed.

Curious George got fixed, the 19th cat fixed from the Shedd colony.  There is at least one more.

Curious George
Then of the nine cats a Lacomb property manager brought me (5 adults and six kittens, although two of the kittens were  born in the garage the same day he brought the black female, making it 11 cats), two of them were fixed Monday.

So far the promised donation from the property manager and owner has not arrived.   Promises promises, I think to myself.   Sometimes I am meaner in my mind about it.  Words mean nothing.  Actions are what count.  I'm holding out hope the words will translate to action and it wasn't all just bullshit.

Mayhem, the big huge black male, was fixed along with the teenage bobtailed black boy Magic.  One person can sure cause a lot of expense and suffering by not fixing their cats.  The teens are likely the black mom's litter from last fall.

They left them all when evicted.  At least that's the story I got from the alleged property manager but I'm just taking his word for it.  I don't even know the guy is a property manager or telling the truth.   He's a stranger to me.  And you just never know if you're being lied to or its the truth.  

 I knew about this situation because a post on a Lebanon site had gone around a few weeks before.  Some lady was saying she overheard her coworker claim their tenants left a bunch of cats and Safehaven would charge to take them and they'll probably just shoot them.  The post caused consternation, but nobody knew how to get in touch with anyone over it.  But when he called, I quickly figured out it was the same situation and didn't feel I could turn him down, or the cats were going to get killed or even worse, starved to death, which a couple of the teens are pretty close to anyhow by arrival here.  Especially the last one he brought, the little girl

That's Mayhem on the bottom and Magic atop the carrier.
That was the same day, that I took them to be fixed, that a utility shelf holding a cage they were in nearly collapsed atop us all when I was trying to get them out.  It does no good to scream and curse at a cheap crappy metal shelving unit, but I did.  It hurt, to try to hold it up as I secured it, pounding brackets back into place.

Next day wasn't a lot better.  I was going to take the last two teens to Salem to be fixed, but in a rush, one of them got loose on me in the garage.  The garage was still a mess from the utility shelf fiasco and trying to rearrange and get the cages off it.  Took two hours to corner him and get him back in a carrier.  By then it was too late to take him to be fixed.

In the mayhem, I lost my keys.   My spare set lacks a house key.  I inadvertantly left the house key off the chain in the house, when I ran out to feed the farm colony Tuesday evening.  I came home, realized what I'd done, and knew I could not get into the house, just into the garage.  I tried to call the woman who has my spare set.  No answer.  I had to do that from a friends place because my phone was locked in the house too, charging.

So I drove over to her house.  No answer at the door.  All their cars were there, lights on, purse in a chair, but no answer to my knock or ringing the doorbell.  The neighbor man comes home.  He doesn't really like me.  Never has.  I ask him for help, ask him if he knows where they are.  He doesn't help, after I explain my problem and ask if he knows where they are, just begins treating me all suspicious like I'm trying to break into their house or something.  It was actually rather horrifying.   So I had to leave, thinking he'd call the cops, to just cause me trouble.   I had told him I'd have to sleep in my car if I couldn't get my spare set of keys from my friend, his neighbor.  He knows me.  Why be such a mean fart?

She later told me she was sick and in the bathroom and that the neighbor man told her I'd been there and was acting all crazy.  That's all you can expect from that neighbor, nothing close to the truth, any way to be mean about me he possibly can.  I don't know why he is that way to me, but he always has been, in the 20 years I've known my friend, his neighbor.

But it hurt me to hear her say what he said, when all I needed was some kindness and a bit of help.

Later on, when trying to get through my cat door, which I've done before, with jury rigged tools, a couple came over from a few blocks away to help.  While I was making my rig, she began digging through the stuff I'd moved around to find the loose cat and found those keys.  What a relief.   I would have survived, could have slept in my car but now I didn't have to.

I wish I had money to help that couple who live a few blocks from me.  Recently their rent got jacked from just over $800 a month to almost $1200 a month.  They've lived there over 20 years and taken such beautiful care of their place and even the yard, when management is supposed to care for the yard.   They are trying hard to get a loan and find a house to buy but house prices in this valley have gone through the roof, same as rents.  It's like their responsible behavior has been kicked in the teeth.   I hope they don't end up on the streets.  Wages in the valley for most jobs don't let a person pay $1200 a month rent plus utilities, car insurance, health insurance, for one phone and food, and survive.

The cats joined their two fixed relatives in the bathroom then and were fixed Thursday at Heartland Humane.  Cost to HCC:  $110 for those two.  I got them tested.  All four are negative.  The first two were tested at the Salem clinic for $25 each.  So vetting costs for the four were $160, which included spay, neuter, flea treatment, worming, microchips for the 2 fixed at Heartland and FIV/Felk tests--still a bargain.  

See I don't know what I'm going to do with them.  The property manager had claimed, when I asked specifically, before he brought them, if they were tame, that they were.  Well, these four are not.  they may have once been, but they aren't tame now.

Only one girl of the four!   They are named Mystic and Mystery.  I'll never keep them straight with all M names.

Mystery, the 3rd boy of the Four Blacks

Mystic, the only girl. 
With that, I called it a week.   I had paperwork and tax records to complete and other tedious and much more mundane chores than trapping more cats to be fixed, although trapping is not exciting, for the most part, and requires endless patience and scheming.

I'd like some sun, some warmth and a vacation.  Ha, dreamer am I. I've got no money for vacationing and no control of the darn missing sun.