In an update to the proposed idea that we were going to take the other three kittens to the RSPCA shelter in Pearcedale this plan has been shelved. I meant to write earlier about what happened the night we moved into the trailer (just over a week ago). As if my life wasn’t already overun with more than enough cats already. M and I were commenting on how happy our two cats seemed to be in our new digs, when we heard sad miaows coming from outside.
It was a COLD cold night. I tiptoed out and found a white cat with brownish splotchy splodges looking very abandoned and sad. I couldn’t bring him inside as our cats would have gone insane, but I gave him some food and made him a bed in a box in the shed. It was terrible. We realised that when we’d first seen the trailer, I’d told the owner that we had cats, and he’d mentioned that the previous tenant had been feeding a cat that had been hanging around. This was that cat. The bastard former tenant had just left without taking any responsibility for it at all, even though they’d fed it. [Tangent: must remember to track down former tenant and make suffer]
In the morning M put some food in the cat carrier and poor little unloved cat was so excited that he ran straight in there. We whacked him in the back of the van and took off for the shelter. It was then he realised what had happened and began yodelling. Thus, I named him Yodel. He was very distressed.
We initially took him into the wrong bit of the RSPCA – the everyday vet – and Yodel scared the pants off all the waiting animals and their humans, because he sounded like he’d been shut in the carrier with a swarm of wasps. They hurriedly pointed us in the right direction. M told me I didn’t have to go into the shelter if it was going to be too upsetting handing Yodel over, but I wanted to make very, very sure how Yodel’s life was going to be handled. They told me that he would be put in isolation for eight days, vaccinated, wormed and then, if necessary, desexed. After that he would have 28 days to be adopted.
I thought that sounded pretty fair. I knew of a lady who was interested in getting a cat, so I called the shelter the following day and asked when I could come and take a photo of Yodel so I could pimp him around – because there was no way I wanted him being put down. No problem, they said, he’ll be up for adoption on the 19th of June, come in then.
So I went in on Monday with my camera. Was sent to the adoption part of the shelter, where about 30 pairs of eyes reduced me to planning to build a cat sanctuary on about five acres somewhere – so sad – but no Yodel. The cat attendant said that he had probably been sent away for desexing and to go back to the office to inquire. I inquired, and after they’d found the file, they said,
“Oh, he was found to have a bit of skin cancer on his nose.”
“Yeah, I think white cats are prone to that. So where is he now?”
“Well, like I said. He was found to have skin cancer, so…”
I knew I’d signed him away when I handed him in, but after I’d called and organised to photograph him I thought they would have at least CALLED me and given me a chance to either rescue him or pay for treatment for his nose. Very. Unhappy.
And the moral of the story is that there is no way the three remaining kittens are going there. I have plans for them. Big plans.