Monday, January 23, 2017

No Photo Post

I'm too draggy and lazy today, to have taken any new photos.

I didn't even take any of the two cats I took over to be fixed at Heartland this morning.  They're both girls.   The people who own them once lived, as homeless campers, in a tent in the county park.  I got two cats fixed of theirs then they vanished, took off to Wisconsin.

They're back now and called me wanting to get the other two fixed so that's who is being fixed at Heartland.  I drove clear to Sweet Home to pick them up.  They would have  brought them down but a third female was to go too.  She was sister to Susie Q and born in the berry vines.  The camp host, for unknown reason, gave her to homeless tent campers in the park.  Now they live in Sweet Home in a trailer park.  It was all arranged she would be fixed. I called them before I left to be sure of it, and to ask if they were ready for me to come pick her up.  "Yes," they said.  Up I drove.

All for naught too.  I get there, after dark, and bump along the pitted gravel road, trying to find their trailer.  I find it and the guy comes out, says "she wants to talk to you".  Already I'm thinking "shit".

I go inside.  A girl, maybe in her twenties, is sitting in a chair.  She has no pants on.  I pretend its all normal.  In their world it is I'm sure.  A guy is laid out on a couch and I wonder privately if he's alive.  He is.   The woman with the cat is sitting on the floor in a pile of clothes, with the cat in her arms.   She tells me she doesn't think the cat should be fixed right now.

I stare at her, shell shocked at first by her words, in disbelief.  What in the world?  They let me drive all the way from Albany, waste my time, my gas money, to tell me something they could have told me on the phone.  It's unbelievable. Outrage fills my soul and clouds my brain.  I struggle to control my words and wonder if I should.   How could they not understand how wrong it is to do that to someone.

 I tell them they are wasting my time and money. They don't get it at all.  She wanted to talk to me in person, she says.  Or something.  This looked like entitlement at its grandest.

I leave.  I hope one day the kitty gets fixed.  It won't be by me.  It doesn't help to get outraged over mistreatment.   Last night I couldn't help it.  I didn't say much, that makes no difference either.

To kill time until the other people are to meet me, I drive the short distance up to the next trailer park, where I got so many fixed, where Tumor Kitty came from, where I trapped the six that were eating in the dumpster, and more recently, got four more fixed, and 3 more teens to a rescue to be rehomed.   I see cat food under the dumpster and familiar faces eating.  They all looked so good.  Someone looks over from a trailer.  I said "Don't mind me, I'm just the cat lady."  "Oh," they say, "can you tell me if you got this cat fixed?"  They come out with a big fluffy black and white."  "Sure did," I say, "see the ear tip?"

They've taken him in.  Trailer 9 people got kicked out for drugs and left him and Nala, too.   I'd gotten both fixed.   Nala now needs a new place.  The guy said he knew someone with a kitten needing fixed, but that she has a broken leg.   I didn't register it fully, asked him to call the person, have him bring her over, but then changed my mind on it.   I gave him my number.

But after I picked up the other two cats, all I could think about was some poor little kitten dragging a leg.  I had to pull over, straighten out my mind, get refocused.

This morning at Heartland I saw KATA folks there with cats they'd brought to be fixed and told them about it.  They are going to try to track that kitten down and help her.  They live up there, and I hope they can.

This  wasn't the half of the weekend.  Julie saw a trailer parked with tags on it, thought it might be for sale, stopped to look.  It was a towing warning tag, had to moved by today or be towed since it was parked illegally.   But she could smell urine from outside the trailer and looked inside.  It was FULL of cats.

She called me about it, sent me messages but I'd gone off without my phone.  I got the messages later.   People called the police about it, and I guess they tracked down the owner and had him get someone go feed the cats.

Then some ladies watched until someone came to the trailer and talked to her.  It's a real hard luck thing.  Coupled with bad decisions.    A friend of hers owns the cats and just bought the trailer because he's homeless and was moving it to an RV park when the wheel froze so had to put it there.  Then he got the flu and I don't know where he was, getting over that.  Bad luck all around.  He loves those cats, I guess the woman said.

He'd had two friends who said they would go care for the cats but hadn't.  So when the police contacted him or someone he'd called that  woman to go care for them and she was overwhelmed.  I guess she moved them, finally, because the tow warning tag is for today.   None are fixed, she said.  He'd had four cats, that suddenly became 20.  Big surprise, eh?

This is all second hand information and I don't know if its all straight up.

Anyhow, they got her number.  I don't know what will go on there.   The FCCO would probably fix them all in one day for nothing.   That's how quick that part of it could be solved.   Fast!   You get the right info, you get it done. That's how it can be done with the right information, by the people themselves.  Get the wrong info or the wrong people involved, it never gets done and gets talked to death. I hope the right people are involved, and these folks will quickly get the help available and take advantage of it, or there will be sixty cats in a trailer.

The house next door to me is about to get moved into by new people.  I came home to find roofers up on top of dead Jack's place.  I asked them to not give me any roofing nails on my driveway for my tires.  I sure don't need a flat.

Sure I'm nervous about getting a new neighbor.  I just hope he, she or they are not assholes and leave me alone.   I have low expectations.   Just don't want assholes.


  1. Not surprised you are tired. Exhausted even.
    And I hope that you can live in an asshole free zone.

    1. That would indeed be nice, EC.

  2. More good work done. The people who wasted your time are unbelievable. As you said, a massive sense of entitlement.

    1. Or something, but I can't guess what.

  3. You sure do see some interesting things in your line of work. I wonder if the woman in the trailer who said she wasn't ready to have the cat fixed was trying to tell you something else like, "the jerk laying on the couch won't let me do this." He's a controlling, dangerous man. I'm sure there was more going on behind the scenes than they let on.

    BTW, when is your memoir coming out? You have a lot to fill it with both personally and with the lives of the other people you meet.

    1. My memoir? Haha, maybe after I sleep a week 24/7. Maybe then.

  4. Oh, you should write a memoir. You are amazing. I would have run screaming from that trailer park and never return. You are made of sterner stuff than I. Thank you for all you do.