TGIF! Guest Post

PIP

EMMETT

Above, brothers I rescued, that went to a great home - thanks Scott and Mary, for giving these little feral kittens a chance!

Pip and Emmett (now)

What a miserable morning.  The rain just kept coming and coming...  and I got wetter and wetter.  I need a rain slicker or something.  Saturday Sheryl has brought me a jacket or two but they are very bulky and not made for what I do.  This morning, as I bent down to pour food, if I was under a tree, I could feel every large drop on my back, and I was soaked by the fifth stop.  And I had at least 11 more to go.  Bummer.  I must find a very cheap item that will be loose but rain proof.  Today is not the last day we will get rain.  I hate rain.

Joel has written us another chapter in what he views goes on out there in the hood with these poor homeless creatures that I try to care for as best as I can.  He hit it spot on with this tale below, almost as if he were there the morning Karla and I had to catch poor Scooter with a large fishing net, because he was suffering so much from his injuries that I had witnessed all week......  Thanks Joel.

… what would the cats Janine cares for think of her ? What would it be like to eavesdrop on them on a cold winters night ?

 A Guardian Angel - Chapter Four

 … Lets leave this upbeat scene for now - we need to check in on another one of Rochester's homeless wanderers - not all are having such good fortunes ….

Scooter was in a bad way - and he knew it.

He'd gotten jumped by a powerful Pitbull last week while foraging along the thin alleyways created by the small gap between the back walls of the garages and the rusty chain link fence running down the property line of the houses along Pennsylvania Ave. He'd barely escaped with his life, and had been badly mauled all along is rear legs and rump. He thought he might have gotten some good licks into the dogs nose, but even if he had, it wasn't worth the price he was paying. He had bled profusely for several hours, and although the natural antiseptic in his saliva had so far prevented infection from setting in, no amount of licking was abating the pain the wounds were causing. The only snippet of good news from this sad affair was that he didn’t think he had any broken bones - although just walking was agony. He had lain up in the dark and oily corner of one of these garages, a large hole no doubt gnawed open by a rat allowing him entry to get in out of the weather. But now it had been almost 24 hours since he'd eaten last, and he needed food in his belly to fuel the healing process he so desperately needed. He could not hunt in his current condition, so he would be forced to try and make it to the place the human had been coming to put out free food. His surprisingly accurate internal clock was nagging at him that the time would be coming soon. He tried to chastise himself so he would do what must be done, but he knew it was going to be torture.

"Come on Scoot old bud" he thought to himself, "If you don’t get your mangy broken ass into gear you are gonna be done for."

He pulled himself shakily into a standing position, swaying a bit before he could get his stiff and unyielding rear leg muscles to hold his weight. He crept forward so he could poke his head out of the rat hole in the dirty garage siding, looking carefully both right and left. Nothing moved that he could see, and no unusual scents carried on the cold night air other than the usual miasma of badly cooked human food, garbage, and the heavy tang of old car oil from the garage floor behind him. He slowly emerged from the garage into the cold and dirty alleyway behind it, his rear legs moving in an unsteady and clumsy rhythm that was so different from his normal bouncy gait. He had always looked forward to going down the free food spot the human female would put out, and he always ended up breaking the code of silence that the local cats had laid down to protect themselves. He couldn't seem to help it. He would trot up toward the food, meowing a cheerful greeting just to celebrate the only good thing he had ever seen a human do. The other cats in the surrounding community would growl at him for doing it, but he had come to accept that.

He limped his way down Pennsylvania toward Fourth Street, praying the human would be there with food as she had on so many other nights. He hoped he could maintain his dignity and respect while he walked, and hoped the human would not see his clumsy gait and take it for weakness. After all, he was a male and he wanted other creatures - including humans - to see that he could fend for himself and would never be tamed. It took a lot longer than usual for him to traverse the block down to Fourth, but he finally made it. He eased his head around the corner of the last house, and sure enough, there was the humans car sitting along the curb. He looked a little further and spotted her laying out paper bowls with food in them, a few other scabby local residents already gathering just outside the range of the bright light mounted on her head. But tonight she was not alone. Another human looked to be accompanying her. Scooter hesitated - two humans were twice as untrustworthy as one. But after just the briefest internal struggle he kept going. His broken body needed food.

He watched the humans carefully as he approached, the intense beam of white mounted on the first ones head alternately blinding his sensitive eyes and highlighting the food in the paper bowls just inside the makeshift shelter that served as the feeding spot the humans had established. He heard the humans making noises that sounded encouraging, so he made his way gingerly up to the opening of the box. With one last furtive glance backwards, he dipped his head and began to eat. He'd only gotten a few mouthfuls down before the hyper sensitive instincts hardwired into his DNA alerted him to danger. He jerked his head up from the food and felt a painful cramp of adrenaline surge through his damaged rear legs. He rolled his lips back from his sharp teeth and constricted his vocal cords to produce a phlegmy hiss of warning. He tried to turn and bolt out of the shelter, but found his way partially blocked by some kind of netting. He could hear the human with the bright light shouting something in a panicky voice, but he was in too much pain and fear to put up a fight. He just wanted to run…

… To be continued ….

And for the good news of the day, an update on Squirt and Riley, two of the kittens rescued from Syd and Johnny's garage on Bay Street this past fall.  They were adopted by a man who owns a bar/restaurant on Conesus Lake.  Thank you Jonah!

They are doing great!  :)  I am so thankful they were adopted as a pair.  Love these little ones!

SQUIRT and RILEY (NOW)

SQUIRT and RILEY (then)

Have a great day!

"Be thankful for what you have; 

you'll end up having more.  If you 

concentrate on what you don't have, 

you will never, ever have enough."