Monday, March 01, 2010

Tsarina Wishes Me Happy Birthday

Tsarina, formerly known as Little Miss Sunshine, whom I dug out of a buried woodpile outside Philomath, is seen in photo above, from her Ridgefield WA home, wishing me a Happy Birthday. Thanks for the photo, Midori!

(Love her exotic leopard spotted bedding)

Mixed news on two cat situations. Another cat has shown up at the Adair colony, where I trapped five cats. The two black feral brothers were relocated by one of the caretakers of the colony to a farmer 8 miles away. I would not participate because the farmer refused to contain the cats.

Anyhow, a black long hair has shown up at the former feeding location. It could be the third kitten and likely is, because I had seen another long hair way down the road in the dark one night.

But, it could also be the long hair who was relocated and booked it back literally overnight. It's one reason why they must be contained at a new location until comfortable and convinced their new home is wonderful. Otherwise, they'll take off and try to get back to familiar territory.

I am hoping it is the third kitten. The person who saw the cat back is going to take a close up photo and check for the tell tale eartip. (EXCEPT: i just remembered, the colony caretaker refused to let me get the black boys eartipped. Big mistake. I should just make it mandatory if I am involved. Think I will now make that policy. Every outside cat must be eartipped.) If it is one of the two boys, back, that cat will be hell on earth to trap and where to put him the next time.

Well, turns out there only was one long hair in the four kittens, now adults, so this cat is going to be the relocated one, the badly relocated pair. It's a damn shame people won't listen to me on relocation procedure. Cats end up dead. It's just common sense, for gosh sakes.

And, when traversing a lane near Knox Butte last night, picking up cats trapped near there, I spotted a long lost cat. She'd been rescued by a woman after the tenant moved out and left 20 cats behind. This female had just had kittens. The woman took her and the kittens in, then moved herself, a few months later, letting the cat, who had never been outside at her rescuers place, outside, while in the chaotic process of moving.

The cat vamoosed, got scared, hid out. I don't know if they ever went back looking for her besides the one time. I did. I sat out several nights trying to find her and retrap her, but it was heavy winter and pouring rain. I never even saw her. I provided food to a neighbor who seemed to just be feeding raccoons, skunks and other cats.

But I see the cat made her way back to her old haunt and has rejoined two other cats who remained there, fed by a family, after I got them fixed. She was sitting on the sidewalk twenty feet from her old home. I am not absolutely sure it is her, because she turned her face away as I went by and it was dark. But, I'm fairly sure. Made me happy. I had hoped she would head back home and rejoin her cat family.

I think I'll join the tea partiers. Why? Because of all the government businesses out there, I hate trying to do anything at the Post Office more than anything else on earth. Today, I was trying to mail back the live trap Jeanne sent me for my birthday. Wasn't her fault. I sent her a link to one being sold on Amazon when she asked what I wanted. I never even checked it out much. It was a Havahart and I didn't think they made those flimsy collapsibles. Well, they do and that's what this one is. My fault totally. So, am returning it to Amazon. I packaged it back up and took it to a small post office, because I've had to stand in line at the local one for over an hour twice now. I just don't go there.

I go to a small town post office, but I usually leave if one man is at the counter. Its like he has this attitude that permeates, like he might want to start a fight or mess you up in some way. Sort of like that. I just don't like going to the counter if he's there.

Nobody was at the counter when I went in. Lots of customers and you could hear someone talking in the back. But for several minutes nobody was at the counter. So I start taping on the address label. I'd run out of the clear tape at home, when preparing the package. I haven't brought in my reading glasses so the printing on the tape is a blur and I can't read it, and think nothing of using the tape. As I am doing this, the man comes out to the counter. I get nervous just to see him come up, because at this point, I'm usually out of there.

I finish taping the address label area onto the box, and stand in line. When it's my turn, the guy straight faced weighs the package and tells me it will be like $55 to mail it. I stare, mouth open in disbelief. I fumble for words. I cannot understand why. The woman behind me actually says something to me first, "It's the tape," she whispers.

I get up close to try to read the tape "Priority Mail" it says along it. Instant embarrassment washes over me. There's no help from this postal employee who seems to be enjoying my mistake vastly. The woman worker would have helped me take off that tape and retape it with clear tape. I so wished she had been at the counter. Instead, I took the package and left.

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