Situations Contained

The Dilapidated Duplex colony situation is largely contained. There is one more young feral to catch although he has not been seen for a day. And two kittens to place, who are inside the couple's place for now. The husband is still in the hospital with only 30% of one side of his heart pumping. He's almost 70 years old. I didn't realize, because he doesn't look his age at all. I have relocated ten cats already after getting them fixed using Poppa funds, from the DD colony. I have two more here, waiting to go to a barn home on Sunday.

I ran into another tenant family there, who bring in, or have, all sorts of cats. They have three males. One of them is the black male who was out after the in heat feral females. I offered to get them fixed tomorrow, but the kid said he'd have to talk to the actual renter, his girlfriends mother, who wasn't there. No call from her. But the landlord is going to require that they get them fixed or get rid of them, meaning take them to Heartland.

The Lebanon situation soured further this evening. I trapped one big black male this morning. The granddaughter was there, claiming she had until tomorrow to be out, but that her grandmother said she could stay indefinitely. But her uncle has power of attorney and has shut off the phone and cable.

When I returned tonight, she was at work and he was there, changing the locks on her. She didn't know she would not be able to get back inside, not for the cats and not for her stuff, stored there at her grandmothers.

Five tame cats were locked inside, although they have food and water. She was going to take two of them, and two were going to a Lebanon rescuer. Now, I think he plans on taking them to a shelter, any shelter, he said, who would take them. That means Humane Society of the Willamette Valley, where space is always an issue and they won't make it, most likely. They'll likely be immediately killed.

I feel for them, caught up in this human drama, this hatred between family members. I feel for the four month old brothers, for Sylvester, the delightful ragdoll long hair orange and white male, and for Girl, the brown tabby tux spayed female, whom the granddaughter was going to take to Salem with her. Stump, the old manx male, he won't make it for sure. There was nothing I could do.

I trapped the remaining two all blacks. One is fixed, the other isn't. The three I got fixed from there today were a black in heat female and a black and white in heat female. I have not been able to catch the two brothers, one gray, one gray and white. There is so much tension there, so much drama and sadness and anger. It affected me, trying to trap, wanting to cry, wishing people would love each other, especially family.

The cats are innocent bystanders, victims. I wish the warring family members would forget everything, forget about warring over money and stuff, like vultures, forget past hurts and just trap the cats for spay/neuter, together. Even the uncle feeds strays at his place. Like his mother. Like the granddaughter. They're so alike in so many ways.

I wanted to tell them Save the Cats and you'll save yourselves. They're all so angry, they don't see, that some really nice cats are caught up as victims and will die perhaps, if they don't wake up. I know both sides think they're right and what is so all fire important about being right? The warring parties, screaming they're righteousness, don't even see the bodies they leave in their wake. What a joke.

We're all just nothings, you know. We're all fuck ups. We could do well to drop the arrogance crap. It's just crap. Wake up and see the kitties, is what I will tell them both tomorrow.