Update

What an unimaginative title. 

Brain is in a fog.   Got worn out again and finally took a long nap.  Feel much better.

I returned Lucky to his people in Waterloo this afternoon.

This morning I returned Scottie, the brown tabby, to his hood.

I had been trying to catch a bunch of cats around a now vacant house.  Tenants moved out and left most of their cats.  They'd already, while they still lived there, had many roam off, ignored, barely noticed or cared for and a nearby kind hearted woman began caring for them.  I got them fixed when the asshole tenants still "owned" them.   She cares already for four they used to "own".  And now they moved and abandoned more.

I went over and caught the first two last Friday.  That was Scottie, the brown tabby, who is wild, and I caught McCoy, not wild, a big baby though, scared of his own shadow.  When I realized how tame he is, I asked Heartland if they could take him and they did.  McCoy was neutered over there Monday while Scottie, whom he fought with, was neutered in Salem.

McCoy settled down over at Heartland and hopefully will get a good home.  Scottie went back to his hood.

I tried last night to get the left behind tame orange tabby.   I couldn't believe it when I spotted their tabby male, big, fat and now on his own too.  He is a sweetie.  When I saw him, after petting him some, I was in the Bird Lady's car, and we drove back to get mine and something to put him in, but when I went back over, he had vanished.  Darn it.

Finally tonight, the Bird Lady said she drove over and put food on the seat of her car and Big Mac, a friendly black tux I got fixed a year or two ago, jumped in her car and she just closed the door and drove him home and put him in her bathroom.   I was also a little freaked out to see yet another unfixed male tabby at the house.  So that would make two more tame ones, the fat tabby and the orange, plus the little unfixed tabby.

I have someone willing to foster the three tame ones, so I hope to get them all soon.  But at least we've got one now, Big Mac.

It doesn't take long for abandoned cats to turn shy and then feral.

The torti mom with her orange boy kitten, from Gervais, are still in my bathroom after being fixed yesterday.  I haven't returned them yet.  It's an hours drive up there and I was just too tired today. I'll return them tomorrow.

Gelato, a little boy, fixed yesterday.

Serene, his mom, pregnant again at spay.  She's very sweet.

My little tiny elderly girl Chessie died.   It's been a little hard to grieve her passing and deal with the demands of returning cats, people wanting help, and all the other shit of life.  Chessie was somewhere over 10 years old but I don't know exactly how old.  She'd been looking very elderly the last two years and didn't quite come out of anesthesia very well the last time she went for tooth troubles, which is often a sure sign a cat is failing.  But recent weight loss and lethargy meant I began with sub cu fluids twice weekly, the third cat now I do that for (Gretal and Poppy being the other two). I also began force feeding her, nutrical, which is very messy and sticky stuff.  She had quit eating.

Enough was enough  and I am guilty of not liking to play god with my own cats and say "It's time you die".  Makes me so uncomfortable.  It's a horror to me.  Its easier on me when a vet says "its time" but can't be easy on them either.

With Chessie I finally had to say "it's time".  I cried and cried but I don't feel any guilt.   She had no life left.  It was over for her.  Her days here were good and she had a lot of friends.  That's a good life.

Goodbye sweet Chessie.