Finding Shelter
We got our cat from the animal shelter here in Salinas. Our cat, Mouse (the name given at the shelter), was part of a litter found behind a dumpster in Marina. So you can see the connection here.
We got our cat from the animal shelter here in Salinas. Our cat, Mouse (the name given at the shelter), was part of a litter found behind a dumpster in Marina. So you can see the connection here.
Gimme shelter…it’s just a shot away.
Two of mine came from the County Doghouse – one back when it was on Ft Ord, the other at the new location. One I adopted from our parking lot at work.
I’m not sure I like this development.
We’ll see how Twinkie adjusts to his surroundings. Hopefully he’ll get out of here before too long.
Public service announcement…please microchip your pets. Shelters and veterinarians scan any found pet and can reunite them with their owner. That is all 🙂
Robert… Animal shelters kinda make me sad… I want to take all the little homeless kitties home.
Yat… think of it as a transfer station…
Jon… animal jail?
Meem… yes, chips make for happier endings.
This seems like a good point to tell this tale. True, too.
A cat began hanging around our house, being very affectionate, despite the expressed displeasure of our two cats. My daughter dubbed him “Creamsicle” due to his coloring – he’s pretty much Twinkie’s RL twin.
We established eventually that he had a home in the next street, where they called him Tiger.
He would be there when I opened the garage in the mornings, and in order to keep him out, I would put him in the car and drop him off at his house. He would sit politely in the back seat for the ride, then step out the window when I opened it. When I got home he would be waiting, and run to greet me.
One night, he apparently got hit. He dragged himself to our house, scuffed up and wet, where the next door neighbor proceeded to call Animal Control to pick up the “injured stray cat.” When I found out a bit later, I went and told a few fibs and bailed him out of “kitty jail.” He had some weakness in his hindquarters, but I wanted to let his owner make the decisions. He rode quietly with me for a few other errands, then I took him to his home.
At that point I saw no more of him, and figured that either he was beyond recovery or had decided “There’s no place like home.”
About two months later, who should show up but Creamsicle; limping slightly but just as affectionate. He would spend the day in our garage, until I would put him out. I assumed he went home. Eventually, the weather reached a point where I “Wouldn’t put a cat out on a night like this,” and let him stay in the garage with our cats. Next day, when I get home he’s in the overstuffed chair in the living room, courtesy of my wife and daughter.
Some time later, I ran into his owner, who told me sadly that he had eventually (she thought) gone off to die. When we compared stories, she decided she could read the pawprints on the wall, and gave him to us.
Between that and two other medical problems, I figure he’s down about 3 lives at this point.
MacLir… what a nice story… this cat chose YOU. Sometimes, we have little say in the matter… they just PICK you out, and keep you as their own. Sometimes they unpick you, as well.
When we brought home Mouse, she was a kitten. We had two cats afore, and they didn’t like the idea of this new whippersnapper hanging around. So Sassy, who liked the elderly folks next door anyhow, decided that she was going to live with them. And Stoney, who was borderline feral, decided to split altogether. While this makes me sad, it was not up to me. They, being cats, decided to do their own thing.
I’m glad that Creamsicle is with the right people now… with his 6 lives left.
Thanks for sharing this sweet story.
MacLir,, Interesting thing about Cats, seems they own us. If we’re smart, we know it. And it’s best to know when your owned by a good one. Oh, I’m not so certain the 9 lives is true, Iv’e had a few that have had close to that number squared… my wallet knew it to.