SATcats and Other Scat

"BW" (short for "Black and White") needs a home. He is a very friendly male that was dumped off by some irresponsible previous owners and ended up hanging around an apartment complex where a friend lives. He is probably 3-4 years old and seems to love attention. I took him in to be neutered, vaccinated (Rabies/FVRCP/FeLeuk), and combo-tested on April 12, 2008. He tested negative for Feline Leukemia, but came up positive for FIV. He will need to go to a good home where he can be the only cat, or to live with another FIV+ kitty.

If you would be interested in meeting or possibly adopting BW, please download an adoption application at http://www.sanantonioferalcats.org/adoption_list.cfm.

My sweet kitty Azul crossed the bridge last night and is now with the angels in Cat Heaven. She suffered complications from her surgery to amputate her right front leg and lost the battle after a valiant struggle. I miss you so much, baby girl. Rest in peace.

Azul's Photo Slideshow

Azul is my 11 1/2 year old Turkish Angora. She is the only purebred cat I have (the others are rescues). My sister bought Azul at a cat show in Dallas and brought her home, expecting to enjoy her company for many years. Unfortunately, her husband said "no cats" so my sister called me to see if I was interested in taking her at the time. I told my sister that I would keep Azul until her husband changed his mind. That was eleven years ago.

Recently, I noticed that Azul was limping a bit on her right front leg. She has always been a pain when it comes to clipping her claws (she bites me when I try this) and brushing out tangles in her coat and I have often let it go too long before getting her groomed. I thought maybe one of her front claws had curled around and was digging into her foot pad, causing her to limp. But then I also noticed that she seemed to have some disfigurement on her leg. Calling the vet the next morning, I got her in to be examined and groomed ASAP.

My vet, Dr. Bekkah Byrd (who I consider the best vet I've ever worked with), informed me that Azul had a lump on the elbow of her right front leg and took some culture samples to make some slides to send to the pathology lab. When the report came in, the results pointed to a suspected fibrosis or mesenchymal neoplasm and the recommendation was to remove the growth and submit it for biopsy to the lab. So, back to the vet for Azul to have the growth removed from her leg. The lab report came back indicating the problem was a soft tissue sarcoma, intermediate grade malignant. Damn. Azul had cancer. The oncologist at the lab strongly recommended "disarticulation amputation." Azul's right front leg had to come off. Dr. Byrd was optimistic that she would quickly adapt to having just three legs.

I took Azul in yesterday for surgery. X-rays prior to her operation indicated the cancer had not spread to her lungs (which often happens, I'm told, if not caught soon enough), so Dr. Byrd performed the amputation. She called me in the afternoon to say the operation went very well. She called back later to tell me that Azul was already standing on her one front leg and eating like a horse. Good signs. I picked Azul up this afternoon and brought her home. When I opened her pet carrier, she came out like a shot and hobbled into my bedroom before collapsing on the floor. She can definitely move on those three remaining legs!

After a brief period of adjustment (which included several of the other cats skulking up to her for a good sniff-over), I removed her Elizabethan collar. She was able to hop over to the food bowl and attack some kibble. Awhile later, when I fed everyone their evening meal of canned food, she was right there, chowing down, with the rest of the gaggle. A little while after that, I figured she might need to go potty and picked her up and took her into the cat bathroom where the litter boxes are. She quickly hopped into a litter box but struggled a bit tending to her business. Well, nothing is easy at first, but I believe she will adapt soon. I expect Azul to be hopping around in a few days as if nothing unusual happened. We'll see.

Caruso's New Home Photo Slideshow

Caruso's adoptive mom, Katie, forwarded some great photos of Caruso in his new home and had this to say:

"Caruso is doing really well. He is coming around wonderfully now. ... We went to Sam's one day and brought home some boxes with our stuff in them. He picked this box and will not let me move it, never mind think about throwing it away. I tried to move it off that chair and he refuses to sit in it until I move it back. Caruso and the other cat are getting along well now. When I come home from school in the afternoon, I will sit down in my chair and Caruso runs up next to me and will stand straight up on his back legs and push me with his front paws. It's adorable! He is like, "Hello, I am here... Pet me now... Please"... and gives me this sad look. He also loves looking outside at birds and people passing by."

Thanks, Katie and Jacob! I'm so glad he is doing well in his new home.

This underscores why we (fosters) do what we do and makes it all worthwhile.

You may have seen this floating around the Internet, but it so reminded me of my Princess, who I lost to kidney failure in 2006, that I am re-posting it here.

Author Unknown

I am your cat, and I have a little something I'd like to whisper in your ear.

I know that you humans lead busy lives. Some have to work, some have children to raise. It always seems like you are running here and there, often much too fast, often never noticing the truly grand things in life.

Look down at me now, while you sit there at your computer. See the way my eyes look at yours?

They are slightly cloudy now. That comes with age. The gray hairs are beginning to ring my soft muzzle.

You smile at me; I see love in your eyes. What do you see in mine? Do you see a spirit? A soul inside, who loves you as no other could in the world? A spirit that would forgive all trespasses of prior wrong doing for just a simple moment of your time?

That is all I ask. To slow down, if even for a few minutes to be with me. So many times you have been saddened by the words you read on that screen, of others of my kind, passing.

Sometimes we die young and oh so quickly, sometimes so suddenly it wrenches your heart out of your throat. Sometimes, we age so slowly before your eyes that you may not even seem to know until the very end, when we look at you with grizzled muzzles and cataract clouded eyes.

Still the love is always there, even when we must take that long sleep, to run free in a distant land. I may not be here tomorrow; I may not be here next week. Someday you will shed the water from your eyes, that humans have when deep grief fills their souls, and you will be angry at yourself that you did not have just "One more day" with me.

Because I love you so, your sorrow touches my spirit and grieves me. We have NOW, together. So come, sit down here next to me, and look deep into my eyes. What do you see? If you look hard and deep enough we will talk, you and I, heart to heart.

Come to me not as "alpha" or as "owner" or even "Mom or Dad," come to me as a living soul and stroke my fur and let us look deep into one anther's eyes, and talk. I may tell you something about the fun of batting toys, or I may tell you something profound about myself, or even life in general.

You decided to have me in your life because you wanted a soul to share such things with. Someone very different from you, and here I am.

I am a cat, but I am alive. I feel emotion, I feel physical senses, and I can revel in the differences of our spirits and souls. I do not think of you as a "Cat on two feet" -- I know what you are. You are human, in all your quirkiness, and I love you still.

Now, come sit with me. Enter my world, and let time slow down if only for 15 minutes. Look deep into my eyes, and whisper into my ears. Speak with your heart, with your joy and I will know your true self. We may not have tomorrow, and life is oh so very short....

Caruso's Photo Slideshow

Caruso was always a special cat to me. He came to me sometime around May of 2006. Thought to be feral at first, Caruso may have just been a very scared kitty, but his ear got tipped (sign of a neutered feral cat in a managed colony) at the time he was neutered. He had been living on the street and was being fed by a man who didn't want him back after he was trapped and fixed. Caruso was originally with another foster parent but she asked me to take him and work on socializing him. So I brought him home, caged him, and started socializing him. Over time, Caruso let me pet him more and more. He had a chance to see the other house cats interacting with me and got to know them through his cage, although he never seemed that interested in them. Eventually, I let Caruso out of his cage to find his way in the household.

During the year and a half that Caruso was with me, he remained mostly a solitary cat. He wasn't that playful but would occasionally chase one of the black cats for exercise. I convinced my father, who lives alone, to take Caruso and foster him for awhile. I thought that if Caruso was around someone else, he might come out of his shell and not be so shy. As the only cat in my father's house, Caruso did start to develop his personality somewhat. Once, when I was visiting, I was able to coax him into my lap. This was something he never did at my house. Alas, Caruso eventually came back to live at my house until he was adopted.

I always had a great fondness for Caruso. He was never any problem for me, just aloof. And with all of the other crazy cats in the house, I greatly appreciated Caruso for who he was during the time we spent together. Katie and Jacob adopted Caruso on January 11, 2008 and from my follow-ups with Katie it sounds like he's doing great. Take care of him, guys, he's a special kitty!

Boots' Photo Slideshow

Little Boots (or Bootsie, as I called her) went to her forever home on January 9, 2008. She was adopted by Amy, a young lady who worked at Petsmart.

Boots came to me by way of my sister on 10/16/07 (thanks, Sis, just what I needed - another cat!). She saw a tiny kitten scurry across her driveway and into her neighbor's bushes. My sister grabbed a towel and was able to throw it over the kitten and stuff her into a pet taxi, then called me. When I arrived at my sister's house, I saw a very small and emaciated little black and white tuxedo kitten cowering in the pet taxi. She was about five weeks old and all skin and bones. My sister had already named the kitten - Boots - because of her little white booted paws. In addition to her little skinny body, Boots also had the beginnings of mange on her ears. I took her home with me, calling our rescue vet enroute for an appointment to get her checked out.

At the vet clinic, Boots weighed in at 1 pound, 1 ounce. She tested negative for Feline Leukemia / FIV, but she had mange, Coccidia, and ringworm. Over the next four weeks I used LymDyp on her to get rid of the mange. Boots had a heck of a time with her digestive system. She went through a couple weeks of severe diarrhea and had a hard time putting on any weight. On 11/24/07, she was about 10 weeks old but still weighed only 1 pound, 10 ounces. I finally got her diet stabilized enough that she started to finally put on some weight and become healthier.

After about a month in quarantine, caged in my garage, Boots showed no more signs of mange and I declared her healthy enough to bring inside. I started her off in her own cage inside the house but eventually put her together with Gabrielle, another kitten who had recently showed up in my foster home. Boots fit well into the cavalcade of house cats and was a very loving kitten. She would climb all over me in my recliner and loved to curl up on my chest and snooze when I reclined. Once she was over the digestive problems and her health improved, she became a very playful kitten. Boots also became good pals with Tapestry, one of the Tortie kittens and they loved to play and wrestle together (often on top of me in bed).

It's always a great feeling when one of your fosters goes to a good home. Amy sent some photos of Boots now settled into her forever home. Thanks, Amy! It looks like Boots is getting along just fine with her new doggie companion.

Adam's Photo Slideshow

Adam got adopted the other day (Jan 2, 2008). This little guy had been with me almost two years. I trapped him (along with Basia, another foster cat) on January 10, 2006. He was being fed (with Basia and some other cats) at an apartment complex in town. A lady who had been feeding cats at her apartment called for help a few days prior to my trapping. She was limited in her ability to care for the cats, being limited to a wheelchair, and her neighbors were hassling her about feeding the cats. Little Adam and Basia were the lucky ones who ended up in my traps.

Adam was estimated to be about four months old when rescued. He had mange all over his head (Basia had it too). I quarantined him in a large dog crate in my garage until he got over the mange (about a month and a half). This gave me time to socialize him and get to know his personality. He never really acted feral, but just seemed to be very skittish and afraid. It took me a long time to earn his trust, working with him for several months, before he seemed to be comfortable with letting me pet him. Indeed, it was until just a few months ago that I could pet him on his head without him flinching and ducking his head away from my hand.

Adam loves to play. His favorite toy was the small fuzzy mice with a rattle inside. He would become instantly alert when I shook one and tossed it to him to attack and run off with it. I'm still finding the little toy mice all over my house. About once a day, he got that "I've been possessed by a space alien!" look and would run around the house making silly noises. I hope he keeps that up in his new home once he gets settled in.

Adam had a major breakthrough a few weeks before he was adopted when I was able to coax him into jumping on my lap. Nearly two years had passed and he finally jumped into my lap! Just the week prior to being adopted he jumped up on my lap without any coaxing on my part and lay there for a few minutes. I was thrilled.

Adam is a very sweet kitty and was one of my favorite fosters. I will miss him tremendously and thank Karen, his new adoptive "Mom," for taking Adam into her heart and home. I know he will be well cared for and have a great life.

Christmas is a time of celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, a time of year when family and friends gather together and exchange gifts to commemorate this Christian holiday. Today is Christmas day, but it's almost over now and even though the holiday season will linger for a few more days ...

Christmas died today.

Today is Christmas and an old friend called from Virginia just to day hi. We had a good time catching up with each other's lives, talked about cats quite a bit, and gave each other a virtual hug before saying goodbye.

Christmas died today.

After the call from my friend, I left to go visit my father. Dad lives alone now and I wanted to spend some time with him on Christmas so he wouldn't feel too lonely.

Christmas died today.

It was about 4 pm when I left the house to head over to Dad's place. As I made the turn from my street to the main road out of the subdivision, I noticed a stray cat on the sidewalk across the street.

Christmas died today.

The gray tabby and white cat had an ungainly walk, almost as if he was drunk. As I started out of the subdivision, something told me to turn around and take another look at the cat.

Christmas died today.

I made a u-turn and drove back to the intersection where I had seen the cat. And there it was, still walking funny and as I drove closer I could see a reddish-pink area on the right side of his head that I hadn't seen before.

Christmas died today.

Thinking he must have been hit by a car, I quickly turned back onto my street and made a dash to my house to pick up a pet carrier out of my garage. When I got back to the intersection, he has heading back across the street, away from me (as if he had started to follow my car and then turned around?) to where I had first seen him.

Christmas died today.

I stopped my car, grabbed the pet taxi, and started walking toward the cat. I know, it was really stupid to walk up to an injured stray (feral?) cat and try to grab it and stuff it into a carrier, but I was way more concerned for the cat at that point than any possible repercussions to myself if I got bit.

Christmas died today.

I was able to get close enough to the cat after it briefly tried to run away but it stopped and waited for me to approach. He was like a sack of bones covered by scrawny looking fur and knowing I probably had only once chance I quickly grabbed him by the scruff, avoiding his flailing legs in a feeble attempt to escape, and dropped him into the carrier.

Christmas died today.

It was Christmas day, a day when all veterinarian clinics were closed. Off to the 24 hour Emergency Pet Clinic for a healthy wallop to my credit card.

Christmas died today.

The cat didn't complain too much on the way to the emergency clinic and looked at me a few times with his head cocked to the side as if that was normal to him. At one point, his eyes locked onto mine with a pleading "help me" look, a look that I won't soon forget.

Christmas died today.

At the Emergency Pet Clinic, I completed the check-in paperwork and took a seat to wait. A few minutes later, I was ushered into a waiting room, carrier in hand.

Christmas died today.

A vet technician came and took the cat in the carrier into the back of the clinic to get the cat's vital signs. I cautioned her that I wasn't sure if the cat was friendly or not.

Christmas died today.

In the waiting room, I waited. All kinds of thoughts crossed my mind: How bad was the cat's injuries? How long would his recovery take? Would he be adoptable after he recovered?

Christmas died today.

The veterinarian came in and informed me that the cat had not been hit by a car, but that it was an old cat (about 12 years old) with a carcinoma growing out of its head by his right ear and he had also felt a large mass in the cat's abdomen. The vet assured me that even if the cat underwent surgery (after biopsies could likely prove the growths were indeed cancerous) that its quality of life would never be good and recommended humane euthanasia to end its suffering.

Christmas died today.

After questioning the doc for a few minutes, to exhaust all possibilities for saving the cat, I reluctantly agreed to the euthanasia. I requested to be present so I could comfort the cat in his last few minutes of life.

Christmas died today.

While the vet got things ready, I had a few moments alone with the cat in the waiting room. I petted the cat while talking soothingly to "him" and wondered to myself when he had last been treated kindly (the vet and I had been referring to the cat as "he," but neither of us really knew that cat's gender until the end).

Christmas died today.

The vet returned a few moments later to administer the sedative to put the cat to sleep. Just before he slipped away, I gently spoke to the cat and told him that his name was "Christmas."

Christmas died today.

Sherbert found his forever home on Saturday at AAPAW's (http://www.aapaw.org) Home 4 The Holidays Super Adoption event. This was a bittersweet parting from a very special foster kitty. I am overjoyed that he has gone to a good home, but letting him go was a very emotional thing for me. Saying goodbye to little Sherbert opened a huge hole in my soul. Even though I came home to a house full of cats after he was adopted, the house still felt so empty.

I've posted a slideshow of some of the photos I took of Sherbert while he was with me. I regret that I didn't take any more photos of him for the past couple of months.

Back in late June of this year, I received a call from one of my colleagues at the S.A. Feral Cat Coalition that she had taken a request for help from Nancy, a lady who works at the Crowne Plaze Hotel in downtown San Antonio, on the Riverwalk. The call for help was about a little kitty that was living under a huge dumpster at the hotel's loading dock. I grabbed my trap and headed to the hotel where I was met by the hotel's chef (Nancy was out of town). After searching all over I saw no sign of the kitty. The next week, Nancy was back in town and called me saying that the cat had been sighted again at the dumpster. I loaded up and headed down to the hotel again.

Upon arrival, I looked under the big dumpster and sure enough, little Sherbert was under it. I set my trap next to it and Sherbert went into it a few minutes later. Before covering the trap, I noticed that he wasn't flailing around hysterically like most feral cats would do. I tentatively put my finger into the trap to see what his reaction would be (usually not a wise thing to do) and he wasn't bothered much by it. I covered the trap and headed home with Sherbert in the back of my car.

Upon arrival, I set up a 3'x2'x2' dog crate on a table in my garage and transferred Sherbert into it. He was pretty lethargic and I was able to immediately place my hands on him and pet him. You should have seen the little guy. He was obviously emaciated and was covered in dirt and grease from being under the dumpster. I could pick him up and handle him without a problem. This was no feral cat!

As our rescue intake protocal demands, I took him straight to our vet's office for an initial checkup (exam, fecal sample, combo-test). Since he was so easy to handle, I left him at the vet's office and requested the staff give him a bath to clean him up. When I later picked him up after his bath, I saw that he had white on his paws and underside that was apparent to me before. The little guy was so scrawny and small for his age! The vet who examined him estimated he was about 10 months old. Sherbert was a pitiful little thing to look at. His had a cauliflower right ear and his left eye was clouded over, possibly from blindness.

After a couple of weeks in quarantine in the garage crate, I brought Sherbert inside to meet the other cats. He curiously met them (some who hissed at him) and started fitting into life inside. From that first day, I could set him in my lap and he would stay there. Sometimes I would fall asleep in my recliner and wake up with him in my lap. From the beginning, he would also curl up on my chest in bed at night and sleep. Sherbert seemed to be very thankful he had been rescued from his formerly horrible life, scrapping for anything to eat on the street and under the dumpster at the hotel.

Over the next few months, Sherbert became the center of attention in the house. He ate voraciously and his fur slowly filled in where it had been thin (see the photo of him on the window ledge where his fur sparsely covered his tail in spots). At feeding time, he was always right there at the food bowls, impatient while I filled them. Sherbert had a horrible gastrointestinal problem for months, most likely from the crappy diet he had suffered from on the street. Over time, his GI problems got better. In mid-July, I took Sherbert to the Animal Eye Hospital to have his left eye checked out. Dr. Bonney said he might have some vision out of it but probably not very much. He attributed the clouding to a possible puncture wound at some point in the past but said Sherbert could see fine out of his right eye and the left eye probably wouldn't bother him much.

What a talker Sherbert is! He would often stop in the middle of doing something and proclaim a loud series of Mrreowwws for no apparent reason than to vocalize his philosophy of a cat's life to whomever could hear him. Often, he would just sit on the counter and meow loudly or as he finished his business in the litter box (as if to express his satisfaction that he felt better).

It was a real joy to watch Sherbert play. Most often, he would attack a small ball (his favorite toy) by backing up across the room, wiggling his butt, and then launching himself at the unsuspecting object. He would knock them into one of the bathrooms and bat them around for hours on the lineoleum floors like a soccer ball. He also liked to play tag with a couple of the other cats and got his exercise chasing, or being chased, back and forth through the house.

I never heard Sherbert hiss at one of the other cats until the tortie kittens came along. He would often hiss at one of them and then I would see him grooming them a few minutes later. For such a little guy, his heart is as big as the universe.

I want to thank Susan for taking Sherbert into her home with her two older cats and dog. I know she will be blessed by him as I was during the short time our paths crossed.