Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Hello, My Name is Wren...

And I am a Crazy Cat Lady. (Stop sniggering, you people who have a rough idea of how many cats I own.) I am an environmental biologist who lives in a rural area in one of the most biologically diverse counties on the Eastern Seaboard--if possession is nine tenths the law, then any cat that is spotted in my yard more than a few times is mine and inside it comes if it passes some subconscious prompting in my gut that says "yup, that's a good one". Domestic cats are house cats: They belong inside for their own protection and for that of the native wildlife outside, and that's all I'm saying about that issue.

Corson: King of the Beasts.

I'm also a failed foster parent. (No surprise there.) I hit true CCL status in one fell swoop, with one fateful visit to a certain shelter some years ago. (To look at a dog, if you can believe it. Turns out I didn't need to go looking for a dog either; one of those showed up too, literally on my doorstep, a couple of years later.) My fault that I didn't put two and two together soon enough when I was told that the one female foster--the one-more-than-I-planned-on after adopting a cat and agreeing to foster two more, "can you take her too? no one else will"--had escaped the shelter the week before and "oh, she was acting like she was in heat". I got four in exactly nine weeks from the AWOL call, sure enough… (Owning cats from start to finish was an amazing experience, I must admit, and I took responsibility for all of the fosters and the extras.)

Only the second sniff of outside air since being brought inside...

Not that I wasn't already well on my way to Crazy Cat Lady status before that, mind you…

Favorite Pastime. (Yes, he is lying down.)

I also happen to keep a pet carrier in my truck, ready for whatever I find alive lying along the road that shouldn't be. A wandering day of errands a couple of months ago found me using that carrier for the first time. (The loon, my last rescue, wouldn't fit in it.)

Well, what else was I to do with a friendly stray oozing puss from his side when I found him at a garden shop where no one was doing more than giving him some food and water occasionally? (Even the shelter they had contacted wasn't trying very hard to collect him. It's an understatement to say that we have a Cat Problem in the county…)

Even the vet went "Eew" over that mess. Hah! The photo below is Corson seven weeks later. Fastest damn healer I've had--and as a multi-cat household, we are well-versed in abscesses... As he was fixed (and otherwise healthy and well-socialized, the only good things about his situation), I live in hope that he had a rabies vaccine at some point (to my knowledge, around here a rabies vaccine always comes with a sterilization). He was given a booster and so far is doing beautifully. We'll need a follow-up check for Feline Leukemia and FIV, but I have high hopes there, too.

Cory-Cat has now been officially welcomed into the house by means of having, much to his disgust, a camera shoved in his face for a photo session.

I am NOT amused.

Strike a pose. Vogue.

How can you resist that face?