Mango at Heartland. Two More Orange Boys Being Fixed Because of Him.

Mango is looking good at Heartland!

Mango is still at Heartland, still not officially up for adoption because he's still recuperating from those horrible injuries. Finally, one of his large facial abcesses burst!  So he's looking even better.  Especially after his lion cut.  His terrible mats were shaved off.  However, they revealed large scars on either side of his spine.  He suffered a horrible injury, was probably grabbed by a coyote or a dog and barely survived the encounter.  He's lucky he's alive.  He's lucky he got away from that predator (dog or coyote).  He's lucky my car was so short on gas that night the yellow warning light was on, and had been on, for miles.  He's lucky when that happened, I'd been out trapping and had an empty trap along.
He's just one lucky lucky boy kitty and maybe whomever adopts him, if they need some luck, will get it along with him.

So, if you recall, the station people thought he was a lost cat from Lebanon, whose owner's neighbors trapped and dumped him, out of hate. But he wasn't that cat.  And I am friends with a different neighbor of the woman who lost a different orange tabby.  She posted Mango's photo on craigslist lost and found, so her neighbor who lost Mr. Butters, could see it.  She didn't remove that post.  And two nights ago, she got a response.  It was someone in Corvallis, who lives right next to Heartland, who had lost their orange long hair male.  So I called them up night before last, and talked to them.  Their orange kitty was already fixed, so Mango was not their lost boy.  However, they had neighbors with unfixed cats.  So today, two of their unfixed orange boys are getting fixed at Heartland, all because of Mango!

Brody, orange and white Corvallis male being fixed today at Heartland.

Pumpkin--short hair orange male being fixed today at Heartland.

These folks also have a long hair torti I saw on their porch.  I say, "Is she fixed?"  "No," the guy says, "but she just had kittens."  The kittens are two weeks old, four of them, two orange, two tortis.  I suggested they talk to Heartland about turning them over, once older, then getting their mom fixed.

Also being fixed today, the Albany man's four semi wild things, whom I tricked into traps last night.  He may be evicted for having them.  Their mom was pregnant again, but he got her fixed last week using a Safehaven voucher.  I caught one after unloading stuff from an overstuffed closet.  She had wedged herself in, but I had to remove all the boxes and bags above her to get to her.  She made a leap out then, and I caught her using a carrier like a baseball glove, in mid flight.

I only got photos of three of the four so far.  They're over being fixed today.

One of two girls.

The boy, or one of the two.

The second boy.

I don't know what will become of them.  He badly wants to keep them all, but the landlord wants a huge pet deposit.  I've been urging him to clean up his place, to have a better chance.  He tells me today he's doing that.  I told him once it's clean it's so much easier to keep it clean.  He agreed. I hope it all works out.

Sometimes things do work out, for the people and the cats involved.

I can hope.

I get invested.

I also took over three cats for KATA.  One was already spayed. But they needed her tested and microchipped. They rescued her off craigslist, someone who'd had her only three months, is moving, don't want her anymore.  She was growling deep and loud, last night, really scared over what's become of her.  But by this morning, she was mewing sweetly like a kitten, hoping for the best for herself, hoping she's not going to be killed or hurt, in this new and scary situation she's found herself in, taken from everything familiar.

Poor little girl, just wants security and love.

.

This boy kitty, so sweet, was found roaming the streets of Sweet Home.  He is darling.  You can see in his eyes that he will become a very loyal and brave companion.  Be worthy.  Adopt him and love him forever.

This calico, being fixed today, comes from the same place Blueberry came from, in Lebanon.  She was left behind by someone in the apartments behind E. Milton street.

There are two other kitties being fixed too.  One is a girl owned by some folks who contacted me off craigslist.  They also have a boy but could not get him into a carrier.  Heartland gave them information about their upcoming spay neuter clinic, which they are holding for the public on May 19.  Pre registration is required and the cost to fix a cat, girl or boy, will be $25.  It is a great deal!  I didn't get a photo of her.

The other girl being fixed is a black female named Wiccan.  She hails from Albany and a woman who loves cats, the neighbor of the owners, called me to see if she could be fixed. I ran into her first when attempting to find a residence where I was to pick up two cats, a few months ago, to be fixed.  I told her what I was doing and she was thrilled, since there have been so many unfixed cats in her area and she adores cats.  So now she calls when any unfixed cat turns up in her area.  I think that's awesome.  I didn't get a photo of her yet either.

So Mango is over at Heartland.  If you need luck and want a sweetheart boy, go adopt him.  Get yourself on a wait list.  He's something else, lucky as a four leaf clover, and he needs you.
Click here for Mango's listing at Heartland.   Scroll Heartland's adoptable cat list to find him.

Paradise with an Ocean View

I'm on a tropical beach, laid out in a lounge chair.  Sun is just perfect, shining down, warm.  I'm in shorts and a blouse, nice wide brimmed hat, book across me, sunglasses crooked, drool escaping my half open mouth. I'm asleep!  Gloriously dozing in the sun, the ocean 200 feet in front of my feet.

I jostle awake.  There's a shirtless guy in shorts standing beside me, offering me a Margarita.  I have no idea where he came from but he's welcome to stay.

This is my dream.

I can go anywhere and do anything in my dreams.

Today has been a bad bad day.  All I want to do....is dream, dream, dream.....

Not only did I have the neighbor fight, but I got sucked into another miserable awful cat situation when I was just going to get some cats fixed from some guy referred to me with the need.

But he wants me to solve his entire life for him, which includes but is not limited to having four feral adult cats, the adult kittens of his unfixed pregnant again house cat, running in his house.  He claims they're not house broken.  Before i see the place, I already know, because I've heard it before, that he doesn't keep the litter box clean.  Oh my does he ever NOT!

Then he makes claims his landlord is going to evict him if they're not gone, or charge him a huge cat deposit, will I talk to his landlord for him, will I do this and that for him, until I stop him, when I'm over there to pick the unfixed cats up tonight, aghast at the awfulness of the place.  He hasn't cleaned a litter box or his place in at least a year. I trick them into live traps.  Takes only minutes and I'm glad because I want out of there badly!

Every litter box is overflowing in cat shit.  The cats then began using the carpet, which reeks.  He hasn't vacuumed it in a long time, looks like.  The stench makes my eyes burn.

I give him the overflowing outhouse comparison.  I tell him cats can smell 100 times better than he can, at least.  Would he walk into and use an outhouse overflowing in shit and pee?  Would he?  Or would he go behind a bush, somewhere else?   Well then, buddy, your cat, who can smell a zillion times better than you can, isn't going to use a filthy litter box.

He's trying to get me to take the cats.  I don't feel sorry for him in the least.  He did this to these cats and to himself.  He caused this.  Now he's trying to play victim and get someone else to pay the costs of his behavior.  No fucking dice.  But I feel for these poor, probably doomed, cats.  I should have walked away, gotten out of there, run!

Bad day.

I try to go get the two to three unfixed males, at the ramshackle trailer where last week, I took two from to be fixed.  They're leaving, moving and the husband says taking only two cats.  I'm met by the woman, this time. The cats are not ready.  She starts in about how upset she is the female cat fixed last week was pregnant at spay, how she is pro life and anti abortion and that we should have done a blood test or ultra sound.

I say, "Actually you should have if you have those beliefs.   I don't have those beliefs.  If you do, then you pay for them yourself.  I'm not paying for your  beliefs."   They let the cats free roam, probably will abandon some, told me the mom of all these young adults is dead, but she isn't.  I got her fixed down the street, along with her mostly grown daughter.  A kind couple feeds them as strays.  Both were pregnant at spay.

She calls me a heathen devil.  I call her a cat killer.  Sort of.  I tell her when she lets her cats have kittens, she kills living cats, waiting for homes, because there are just too many.  I think she'll understand this, because the area is over run in unwanteds, many bred by these here radical pro lifers, who seem to have no regard for their breeder effect on the neighborhood.  You would think they'd give a shit about the living.

She says a living cat is exactly the same as an egg that has been fertilized.  Ok.  So you're a vegan then lady?  No, she's not even a vegetarian.  So I'm lost, in her value maze.  I tell her I'm leaving, that I don't help people anymore who are screaming at me like heathens.  I tell her to quit breeding cats and causing problems in the neighborhood with the overflow.

One thing she said makes me wonder.  She claims she ran into someone, who was on the city council once, who told her the city gave the developer who bought the trailer park there, evicting all the tenants, money, so he'd be better able to buy it.  She was mad, angry, and I should have seen the connection. I told her how horrible, dishonorable that was, if true, that the city would do such a thing to them, all those long term very poor tenants.    She was feeling betrayed, unwanted herself, I knew that.  I commiserated with her, told her to write a letter to the editor, complain to the state, ask it be looked into.  What a horrible thing, if its true, to have a city not want your eyesore poverty so badly they'll pay a developer to buy the land out from under your place.

I don't care what people believe. But leave me out of it.  And don't ask me to pay for it and don't scream at me and call me names for helping you out.  I didn't stick around more than two minutes to take the shit being thrown my way. I tell her to take care of those lovely cats and get them fixed.

Then I drive off into the sunset.

I wish I was sailing off into the sunset, in my wide brimmed hat and my shorts with the azure sea around me, the sounds of the ocean so calming and peaceful.

Foot in Mouth Disease

I suffer from Foot in Mouth disease.  I am socially inept and have very limited human contact experience.

This does not stop me from opening my mouth.  What comes out---well, I am never sure what will come out.

I can talk to cats.  I am sooo comfortable talking to cats, verbally or otherwise.

But people-----noooooo!  No practise.  I don't even understand humans.

I'm not ready for the counter.  I say something.  They say something.  Mind goes blank.
Mouth blurts something out.  Inside I'm stuttering, but I don't stutter outside.  Makes it worse.  People might understand an outer stutter.  But the inside kind----no.

My ineptitude comes with a basic cause.  No practise.  I have lived virtually my entire life void of human contact.  How sad is that?  Well, it's really sad.  I love people!

The contacts on my phone are all cat contacts---vets, shelters, various rescues, clinics and people who need cats fixed.  Nobody on my phone I could just call up and talk to, for no reason.

My history in a terrible system is the cause.

Try being labeled a nutcase and thrown into a group home then a low income hotel to live your life.  My friends there mostly died, suicide (nine of those) and of various diseases or psyche drug interactions. My life was a vacuum.  It was nothing.  Four walls and nothing else.  Then after I left the damn brutal system, inside which I lived my entire life to that point, I left everyone I'd known.   I have no family to speak of, that I ever see that is.  How would I ever make friends now, at my age, with no job and no family and no connection to anything?

I had a few friends considered normal when in the system.  But those friendships were severely tilted to the patronistic side of the scale.  It's not like we were equals.  Sometimes one would invite me over to watch them do their shit, yard work or whatever.  Yeah.  I could sit there and watch them do whatever they had already planned on doing. It was supposed to be a big deal for me, an outing like that, I think. I couldn't even help, because they didn't think I'd do it right, I guess.

You don't come out of the life I've had with many people skills.  Mine are all imaginary.

I like people but apparently nobody likes me.  Not enough to actually want to be around me or do things, that is.

I want a bike.  I need to get exercise.  Yes, I'm scared of getting pavement squished.  I've been hit already three times on a bike by cars.  I am scared to death of cars when on a bike as a result.  Just like I am dog shy now, after getting bit five times.  I have scars from two of those encounters.  Left me with a mindset.  About cars, when on a bike.  About dogs and shit hole owners who don't train them or confine a dangerous dog.

I think dogs sense I'm ready for them, expecting them to come at me, if I turn my back.   Sets them on their heels about me.  Didn't used to be, but after the Year of the Dog Bites, well, I'm not as laid back around strange dogs.

Same with cars when I'm on a bike.   I see any car as THE ENEMY---Serial Killers!   Out cruising for a victim.  Practising their judge and jury trial excuses by texting, talking, eating, combing their hair, rushing to work, as they drive carelessly, edging into my fragile riding space, ready to kill!

Pavement hurts.  It's hard.  It hurts to look at it now after three bike wrecks.

Nonetheless, given the totally flat landscape of this town, which makes for walking without workout,  and lack of any parks for hiking, I'm willing to risk the ride.

I like speed.  Did I mention that?  I like speed a lot.  I would love to have become a race car driver or downhill ski racer.  Once upon a time.

Ok, I never would have become a downhill ski racer.  I've never once down hill skiied.  I went cross country skiing a few times.  I owned a pair of cross country skiis once.  Cross country skiing is a nerd sport.  You go for the scenery, the quiet, the ambiance, the company of nature, the crisp cold air billowing your breath.  I've never heard anyone say they go for the rush of speed.  Never once did I hear anybody say that's why they cross country ski.  I took to cross country because I like snow and the out of doors and who could afford a ski lift ticket?  Nobody I knew.

The closest I ever came to car racing was when I house sat for this guy.  My sorry car was failing.  So he loaned me his Corvette.  A CORVETTE!  Really?  That's like putting candy in front of a four year old and expecting that kid not to touch the candy.   I took it out and opened it up.  120!  I had to.  I knew never in my life would I again sit in the driver's seat of such a car.  I loved it!  I didn't tell him either.  Why would he need to know?  No reason.

I'd driven a Vega wagon.  Oil had to be added every hundred miles.  Caliper pin had to pounded back in too, tire off, about every 300 miles.  Top speed---50, on a good day, with the wind at its smoke clouded back.

Maybe I'll become a bike racer. Maybe one day, old as I am, I'll be riding down the road and see that nasty liar Lance Armstrong up ahead.  I'll remember how he demonized the women who told the truth about his little doping problem, and I'll kick into such a competitive frenzy that I will pass him, on a hill, peddling my three speed to beat the band.

"Heya, Lance," I'd say, giving a half salute off my Goodwill bike helmet.  Then I'd reach out a foot and kick him over.  I would.  Well, ok, probably I wouldn't, because I'm just too nice and maybe I couldn't really catch him.  I have a very good imagination.

So I been reading up on bikes.  I've been calling craigslist ads but I'm so paranoid I'll buy a stolen bike then have to return it and lose the money.  I've been told most of the bikes on craigslist are stolen.

So I find one I can't live without on craigslist.  That after seeing a bike at Target I almost bought before stopping myself because it's a crappy bike for too much money.  I could see myself on it though, in my mind's eye, coasting down a long hill, no cars anywhere, wind blowing my hair, breeze caressing my face, not too hot, not too cold, legs not tired, deer in the fields I'm passing, maybe some horses, no sheep though.   I'm living this vision and I get an urge to jump on that bike, pay for it, and ride out of the store.  Laughing, happy.  I shake it away and make myself walk away, even though I keep peeking back at it, through the aisles.  I rarely lust over any "thing".  This was unaccustomed.  Wow!  I liked the feeling!

I called a craigslist ad, my self-confidence jagged and raw.  I wanted that bike I saw in that ad, but I could not overcome my paranoia that it was a stolen bike.  The second time I asked the man if it for sure was not stolen, he said he was going to have to say no, to selling it to me.  He hung up.   I was jubilant for only moments.  He was a thief, I knew it.  But then I searched his number online and he's one upstanding character, even has an ebay account, with good reviews.  OMG.   What have I done?

Foot in Mouth disease had set in.  I blew it.

The only riding I'll do in the near future will be in my imagination.

Because this is supposed to be a photo blog, here are some photos:

Raindrop in the highly popular carrier shelves.

Alexi enjoys the new hanging cat basket.

Daisy in the cat basket.

Basket cats Vision and Meesa.  The trap bed is beneath.

The basket cats.

Starry Gazing.

Daisy Face.

Cat Tree project.  I painted two cedar shed doors, given me by the Slurpy colony caretaker, to use as shelves on the new cat tree bed.  I bought four four-ft long 4x4's at Home Depot, from their flawed wood bin, for $.51 cents each, which I used for the legs.

Lower shelf.

With cat beds, although its far from done.

With cats.

With Miss Daisy--exiting.

Drying catnip.

Mangled Face Lover Boy Mango Now at Heartland

Mango, the long hair orange stray, I ran into in the parking lot of the Shell station on Highway 34, late last Tuesday night, is now at Heartland.

I got him fixed the very next day, after trapping the poor boy, who was running aimlessly amongst moving cars, in that parking lot.  He was in imminent danger and I can't watch that.

So he got fixed at the FCCO, although his bizarre face wounds, there, were considered, "on the mend".

I had him in a cage in my garage until yesterday.  He wanted out and more attention.  The boy is a love machine and his fur, although matted, is so soft!

Once in my bathroom, he would not leave me alone.  I could see his wounds more closely.  He has some large mostly open wounds.  Above the uppermost wound, is a strangely shaped soft protrusion, likely a
 ballooning abscess. Below it, is another soft bubble, likely of infection.

I don't have the money to take him to the vet.  So I started begging, like usual.  Heartland agreed to take him.  Thank you Heartland.  He tested negative over there, for FIV/Felk.  Whew on that!

He'll likely have to have those abscesses lanced and a shave job since his gorgeous locks are so matted.

He bolted, scared, panicked, from the carrier when I first tried to get him out, but he calmed down.   Poor kitty.  He didn't know what was to happen to him, if he was going to be killed or what.  I enjoined a familiar roll immediately--that of cat apologist, pointing out his good traits, his beautiful soft fur, stating he was only scared, that he is really super wonderful and nice.  I am a cat apologist.  For certain.

Shame on whomever dumped him in the first place.  Damn local loser!!!

So if you are over in Corvallis, go visit Mango.  He'll want the attention.  He is a boy who loves his food, too!  Oh yeah.

And remember Scottie, the other orange boy, him a Scottish Fold, I trapped last week, at the barn, where he'd been dumped by somebody?  Well, he's up with a Portland rescue, who got his ears cleaned out, while he was under sedation and....he got a beautiful lion cut!  He's fabulous!   His name is now Sherman.

You can see a video they made of him here! (worth the click)

Cat Wandering Shell Station Parking Lot Caught, Fixed, with Four Other Local Kitties

Well, another long day for me that is about to end, as I renew my relationship with a bottle of Nyquil and my bed.

Half a sip of Nyquil and I'm out like a light.  Plus it helps my allergies, which are bad this year.

I had two big males needing fixed already in my garage.

I had the brown mackeral tabby from the Albany in the house colony.  He's tame and older and sweet.  And I had Scottie the Scottish Fold, whom I trapped out on Peoria Road, where he was apparently dumped by some asshole.  Boy does my garage ever stink like big male.

This boy I trapped inside that woman's house, where I already took five from to be fixed.  He is very sweet.  He was labeled a senior at the FCCO and even had a bad tooth pulled, besides being fixed and vaccinated.  Good deal for this cat.

So I got offered reservations at the FCCO.  Scottie would stay.  He's getting himself a home up there.  I was  taking him back.  Then things changed again.  Boy.  I can't keep up anymore.

Scottie, fixed today at the FCCO.

I had Scottie tested before I knew what I might do with him.  Heartland helped out with that.  I paid out $14 though and I received no donations from anyone for gas, in the transport up today either.  So I'm out cash every time I help out.  Darn it, wish I had the money to burn like that but I don't. It's stupid when I'm just barely surviving.  Anyhow....

Well, being as how I was going all that way, up to Portland,  I decided to head over and try to trap at Slurpy's old colony where there were two unfixed cats left.  Besides, they said they'd take the dismembered couch wood and burn it for me.  I wanted that gone.  So I loaded it into my car and headed up with my drop trap.  It took a very long time and catnip spread all over, to get them going under that drop trap again.  But after I shared the cat weed, liberally, things rocked.  They ate two entire cake pans full of dry food mixed with tuna, before the unfixed Lynx Point girl ambled out of the briars.  The problem male, not yet fixed, had been around, attacking other cats, making an ass of himself.  But it was the girl who went under.  I yanked the string and had my cat.

Lynx Point female fixed today from Slurpy's old colony.  She too was labeled a senior and was pregnant.  No more kitten production for her.  

Since it was late, I called it a night with just her.  But I drove up there on an empty tank.  And right after I left, the yellow warning light came on.  So I stopped in at the freeway gas stations and counted out my last $15 to get a few gallons.  As I was pulling out, I see a cat running around the parking lot of the gas station next door.  He's running really close to moving cars, looking just desperate and just ten feet off that busy highway.  I can't just drive off after seeing that.  I pull over, and open my car door.  He almost comes to my car door, and looks like he wants to jump into my car.  He's super hungry.

I set a trap over between the two gas stations and crack open a can of tuna and hurl some tuna juice his way. He's instantly interested.  Then I go park and talk to the attendant.  He says the cat has been around about 8 months and that he belongs to a Lebanon woman and that his name is Mr. Butters.  He says the Lebanon woman's neighbor trapped the cat and dumped him out by the gas stations and that Safehaven, the local shelter, only 200 feet away, knows about him and has the owners number if I catch him.  I ask if he has been feeding the cat and he says sometimes, not much, not often, that he mouses for food.   I am thinking, "the cat is starving.  Have a fricking heart."

The cat is in the trap in ten minutes.  I give the station attendant my card and tell him I'll call Safehaven to tell them I have the cat and I guess take him there, although I knew I'd be gone today.

I get home though, and post about it on FB and even though it's 11:00 p.m. now, a Lebanon friend responds.  She's totally excited.  Says that Mr. Butters is her neighbors cat.  I say, "Did I get him fixed?"  "Yes," she says.  I look up the photos of the cats I got fixed through her and find a photo of Mr. Butters.  He doesn't look a thing like the cat I caught outside of having orange on him.  But he's a short hair dark orange tabby tux.  This cat I caught is a long hair all orange buff boy, almost no visible striping and no white.  How in the world would anyone mistake him for Mr. Butters?

Her neighbor, who owned Mr.Butters, now online with her, says she had posted photos of Mr. Butters on craigslist after he disappeared and got two responses, one from each gas station, who claimed that photo indeed was the stray roaming the gas stations.  Really?  Somebody needs their eyes checked.  They asked for Safehaven's help catching him but I guess that didn't work out.

Mr. Butters.  Photo taken when I took him to be fixed.  He's now missing.

The gas station cat.   Look anything like Mr. Butters to you?  Sure doesn't to me.  

The cat was fixed today.  He has a long bad wound on one side of his face that extends from one ear down to his jaw.  It is ragged, not a straight cut, and could have been inflicted by a predator or by him getting hung up going under like a sharp fence bottom.  I wonder if he was slipping under outside dog kennels at Safehaven next door to eat and got caught up.  The FCCO thought it would heal.  But now, what to do with him.  I left two messages with Safehaven hoping they will take him.  I wonder if he was dumped there.

 The cat was in imminent danger last night, running haphazardly among moving cars near the freeway.  I couldn't leave him like that.

I don't know if he is feral or not.  Not very, if at all, to come so close to getting in my car, when I invited him to get in.

Anyhow, once settled down after that, going from thinking I'd found a lost cat, which is euphoric, to knowing I hadn't and now what would I do with the guy, I set a trap in my yard.  I wanted to catch the Lynx Point still.  Wonder upon wonders, I caught him.  He too was fixed today at the FCCO.  He was labeled "senior" by the FCCO.  I don't know where he came from.  He showed up around the same time the long hair gray and white male showed up.  

Well, they're both fixed now, which, in a couple of weeks, should make my life easier, should they wander back through.  The spray marking and male smell will fade and my cats, like Peeman Sam, won't react in like manner.

The Lynx Point yard stray, fixed today at the FCCO.

I was worn out after taking the cats to the clinic.  I couldn't think of anywhere close I could sleep in my car, safely, and without parking issues, so I just went straight back down to the rest area, and slept there.

My home away from home.  My vacation getaway.  As close to a vacation as I'll ever get, at least.  There's a rest room, big beautiful trees, and ample parking.  I slept three beautiful hours.

So the yard strays are now all fixed again.  At least I think that's it for new roam throughs.  Just one male left to catch up at that Lebanon colony, where Slurpy was born.

But I've got the gas station boy now to deal with.  I bet Safehaven will take him.  He was living in their backyard, for I guess at least 8 months.  I hope they'll help out with him.  That wound of his looks bad.  Poor guy.

I wanted to be a hero and have found Mr. Butters.  But this poor guy doesn't give a shit about Mr. Butters or my little feel good issues.  He's just glad he's now safe.  I'm glad I helped him out.

I now have the exact date when the last invoices for spay neuter must be in, due to Poppa's closure and that date is June 15.  No more cats taken in after June 10.

The end is near.

New Friend

The five Albany cats from that house, where I've been trapping inside the house, were fixed yesterday at the FCCO.  They included a big black and white male; a young black and white male and three young girls, one black and white, one black and one gray.   I released three of those cats this morning, the two males and the gray girl, but forgot to take photos of the cats.  I also released a black adult female there, whom I had caught in the night.  She's already fixed.

She was fixed Sunday from the Albany colony.

So was this big male, plus a teen male who looks just like him.

And this black tux girl.  Also, her sister, a gray girl.  The woman had a chance to turn them all over to Safehaven, a couple of months after they were born.  A community police officer got the reservations with Safehaven.  But then the woman refused.  She doesn't care for them. 

Unknown if this girl is fixed or not.

This morning, in one trap, an unfixed mackeral tabby.  I knew he was needing caught.  There is also a big orange and white male, another black teen, and an unknown if fixed cinnamon torti there.  Besides a bunch of fixed cats.

Tomorrow I will take back the other two girls.  I have to hold the male until I can find a place to get him neutered, along with the Scottish Fold guy.  It is not that easy around here, to find anywhere that will bill Poppa, while Poppa is still doing the spay neuter funding, which is for another two months.

I won't be trapping for the other two ferals at the Albany house this week, due to having nowhere to take them, if I caught the cats, to be fixed.

It sucks enough to be holding two unfixed big males in my garage until I can get them fixed.  It upsets my cats, the smell of unfixed males.  Should help a lot that the big gray and white is fixed now.  If I could only catch that unknown Lynx Point.

I got informed the rescue group who took in the two teen boy kittens from the Albany complex where the feeder tenants were evicted and cats left to starve, wants me to take them back, as they didn't tame enough to adopt out.  So Keni is taking them back at Odd Cat Out.  I feel bad about that.  She cares for so many, already has six from that complex, but she is good natured about it, knows they have no other option.  I have three of those complex cats here.  Was never supposed to be, to be manipulated so badly by the city person and that complex and even the tenants, who could have gotten them fixed long ago.  Now the weight and cost of caring for them are on me and Keni.  I wish people would fix their pets.  I wish people would realize if they feed cats, they need to fix them.

It's not very bright to feed cats without fixing them.

I released the big long hair gray and white guy this morning too, back into my yard, where I caught him.  I didn't think I'd ever see him again.

I worked all day at taking apart the love seat.  It's been stinky and useless for a long time.  I meant to get it out of the house sooner, but hadn't gotten to it. I intend to make myself a couch one of these days using old pallets.

 So I did it today, fueled by a tension over the Boston Marathon bombing, which was all over the news.  Who could do such a thing?  And why?  I shouldn't wonder why. There are barbarians all over the world killing innocent people, including many freakazoids here, in the U.S. who kill for fun.  They try to blame it on some cause or religion usually, if caught alive, but really, they kill because they're arrogant freaks and hate themselves or hate people who love life or there's money in it somehow or status they feel.

So the couch dismemberment project, for disposal, although not planned for today, happened today.

I got worn out from that and other projects and took a nap that lasted until after midnight!  I wake up, go out to put the garbage to the curb, and see something is inside the trap I left set for the Lynx Point frequenting my yard.  I hope that it is him, and approach the trap. It's not him.  It's guess who!, the big gray and white again.

He hisses at me.  I figure that's bluff.  I mean, it's not like he didn't know that trap would spring when he went in again.  "Sorry, buddy," I say, "I don't believe your hiss anymore."  I break open a can of wet food and drop it through the trap mesh for him.  He's waiting on it and gulps it down.  I open another can and do the same.  Then another.  I open the back of the trap and take off the door so he can leave whenever he wants but he stays in the trap until every speck of food is gone.  Finally he ambles off with a backwards look at me.

I have a new friend.  He's big and shaggy and kind of scraggly and he likes me.

Guess I'll think up a name.

Zeva, whom I got fixed, but who has a home on another block, checks out my tire.

Mops checks out the new carrier shelves.

Meesa is looking good these days.  She doesn't take shit off anyone here.

Blueberry is getting big!

Poppy is getting old!

Scottie, the tame Scottish Fold I trapped was dumped out on a rural road by some local asshole.

Might be a domestic terrorist, they're now saying, about the Boston bombing.  There was an explosive device detonated in a trailer park in Corvallis a few days ago.  Read about it here.
I hope it is not related.  A trailer park, in this area, an explosion, you think meth lab, automatically.  I guess if there are explosions in this area I'd rather have them meth labs blowing up than to think somebody is seriously disturbed experimenting with and creating bombs to kill people in other cities.

Caught, but Will he Be Back?

I caught the big long hair gray and white male whom I first saw in my yard two days ago.  He may have been around longer than that.  Sam's been pee marking up a storm, which is what he does when another unfixed male roams through the yard.  I've caught 38 cats now, roaming unfixed through my yard, since moving here six years ago.  Can you believe that?  This area is bad!

The neighborhood and more importantly, the cats, are lucky I moved here.

So I had tried to help a young woman get her cats fixed, about a half mile from here.  She had two unfixed females and three kittens.  The kittens were barely weaned and their mom was about to have another litter.  The other adult female was to be fixed the day I took the kittens to be fixed, but she and her roommates did not have any of the cats ready, and the female darted into the fireplace insert and up over its edge into the wall.  The cats had been using the old ashes as a cat box.  It was all quite disgusting and horrible for the cats.

I stopped by a week later though, hoping to pick up that female, to be fixed.  However, they got into it with me, said they figured she was pregnant now too and would go through abortion anxiety.  I said "what about the anxiety they go through just living in this house?  What about the cats who die because there are too many?"  I was ordered to leave then, after which I got several very mean e-mails from the original woman who contacted me from that house.

First time there though, I asked what males were impregnating their females.  They mentioned a big fluffy gray and white feral.  This is going to be him.  I'm half mile from them, at the most.

It's dumbshit stupid to allow your precious girl cats outside unfixed to mate with big crusty diseased males.  It's like encouraging your teen daughter to go out and have sex with stinky old homeless guys who shoot drugs or with truckers who hump anything that moves, as they travel and are often seriously STD'ed.

At check in this morning, at the FCCO clinic, the first reaction from those volunteers were "Boy, he might not be coming back."  See they test cats with obvious signs of disease.  If they test positive for FIV or Felk, they are euthanized.

This cat is a mature fighting male, in Albany, where nobody seems to fix their cats, males especially.  So FIV and Felk are epidemic among outside allowed free roamers.  He doesn't look good, looks like a five year old beat up cat who has never had it easy, and fought many battles over territory or sex rights.  The liklihood he is positive for FIV or Felk or both is extremely high.  The FCCO only tests, however, if they see obvious signs of disease.  We shall see.

I asked if the FCCO woman who picked up the cats yesterday, for people who had registered for the cancelled Corvallis clinic, could transport him back and she said she could, so I don't have to wait around up there at least.

I wonder if this boy will be coming back, or if he will be tested.  If they test him, I know he won't be coming back because I know Albany.  The cats here don't stand a chance.

UPDATE:  He's back.  All 13.7 lbs of him.  He had no obvious signs of disease, mouth looked good, I was told.  So I'll release him tomorrow.  I'll probably not see him again, since he's roaming, from somewhere, looking for love. He'll feel like an unfixed male for another month.  I hope he survives his dwindling hormones.  It's a brain operation really, a neuter.  Shifts his resources from his lower brain (the balls) to the higher functioning brain behind his eyes.  Gives him back his life, rather than his life now, being a slave to hormones.  Sad life it is--fighting, breeding.

His search for sex took him through the wrong yard!!  Actually, the right yard, the yard that might have saved his life, ultimately, if he makes it through the next month.

I get back from picking him and the five from the other Albany location up, and the Lynx Point I don't know, is at the front of a trap I left set.  I wonder if that's an unfixed girl.  I don't know that Lynx Point, or where it came from.  I've seen him or her also only for the last few days.  If it's another unfixed male, means nearby, somewhere, is another unfixed female drawing them in.

Kitties.  You don't come through my yard unfixed.  You're going to leave my yard a different cat.  Get it?

Bwah ha ha!