Six Cats Fixed Monday

Got six cats fixed Monday up in Salem.  Five of them were one family, a mom and her four black teens, from a trailer park in Albany.   These cats were living under a trailer right behind the street where I got so many fixed, last winter and spring, where my car was hit from behind, when I was parked, by a woman who lives on the street.  I called it the Albany colony, which is quite unimaginative.

The woman who hit my car died a couple days ago, from a stroke.  She'd fallen according to the colony caretaker, who invited me over for coffee, and hit her head when she fell.  She did not seek medical care, according to the colony caretaker, who lives across from her, and claimed she wanted to call the ambulance but her neighbor refused medical assistance.   Shortly after that she had a stroke.

It is sad to think about.  I knew she was suffering immeasurably from the suicide, at home, of a son.  That's what the colony caretaker had told me.  I don't know how one would live through such a thing.

I've been watching the PBS series on the Viet Nam war.  Episode two followed the story of a 17 year old, who convinced his parents to sign the papers so he could enlist early.   He went through training but was disappointed to be assigned as a clerk.  So he purposely botched his boring supply job, just so he could go into the infantry.   But it was not as he expected.  His letters home became dark.  His best friend was cut down by machine gun fire in front of him.  He carried him out of the line of fire, risking his own life to do so, but his friend died anyway.

His mother and sister, in poignant interviews, describe their worry for him as months passed.  When the mother, then the sister, describe the two soldiers coming to their door one day, to tell them their son and brother had been killed, I broke down crying. The young man was 19 when he died.  I lived through that time, as a child and teen.  The fear was in the air around the parents and siblings of soldiers.

The bad driver from the Albany colony street must have suffered greatly to have a son who killed himself at home.

Well these are the six cats fixed.  The odd cat out is the tabby on white teen boy, found as a tiny desperate wild kitten in a car lot in Corvallis, rescued, tamed and cared for then by a friend of mine who loves cats.

Gunny, from the car lot, fixed Monday

Dawn, mom of four teens, fixed yesterday

Bonzai, a teen male, fixed Monday

Belize, another teen male, fixed yesterday

Brazil, the biggest of the four teens, a boy too, fixed yesterday

Bombay, the only girl, fixed yesterday too

Dawns' four black teens then went, end of day, after they were fixed, to my friend who places barn cats.  Dawn came home with me, spent the night, then I took her back to the woman who feeds her.  It's nice when I catch the entire group of cats at once, so no need to selectively trap for one or two later.  There was a male she wanted to get done too but I'd already gotten him fixed from the other street.