giving paws: epilogue

first thing saturday morning, after i’d fed kyle, i grabbed a bowl of kibbles and cup of water and headed out to my parents’ garage to see how little “bones” had fared overnight. it had been 10 hours since he (yes, the cat was later revealed to be a neutered male) had last seen me and last been fed, so i wondered if he’d bolt the second the door opened. i was also anxious to see if he’d thrown up the food he wolfed down the night before – a common side effect of binge eating in cats, and a common occurrence when a change of food happens – and whether he’d used the litter box we’d put out.

i talked to him through the closed door before opening it, and rattled the kibbles so he’d know food (and a familiar face) were coming in, then opened the door. he darted out from under my mom’s car, and went about five feet out onto the driveway before realizing i was there and that i had his breakfast in my hand.

then he was, once again, completely lovey dovey and wouldn’t leave my side. i investigated the garage – everything was in its place, there was no vomit anywhere, nothing on any of the shelves had been knocked over or disturbed in any way, the water i’d left was almost gone... and the litter box was untouched. drat. thankfully, though, there was no pee or poop anywhere, either, so at least we wouldn’t have to deal with getting that smell out from some remote corner or anything.

with bones practically glued to my shins, purring loudly the entire time, i refilled his water bowl and food bowl and watched him scarf down those kibbles. then he trotted out the open door – OMG! where are you going?! – and went to our neighbour’s front lawn... where he promptly squatted and pooped. double drat. i rattled the kibble bowl (i’d brought extra in case he got out and needed to be coaxed back into the garage) and he returned, then i asked my mom to watch him while i went and cleaned up his deposit.

we wondered how easy or difficult it was going to be to get the cat into a carrier for what would be a half-hour drive to the nearest animal services centre. i decided to give it a test run, and tossed a few kibbles into the carrier. bones crept right inside after them, i gently pushed his bum all the way in and then i closed the door behind him. success!

but he was a little distressed. he was still purring, but was also trying to get out. he was squeezing his nose through the bars and through the “windows” along the side, rolling on his back and pushing his paws against the ceiling of the carrier, then meowing in kind of a mild howly way. only a few minutes later, when i finally let him back out (much to his delight), did i see what was up – he’d had to pee (even though i put him right IN the litter box a couple of times and he hopped right out), and had been trying to tell me as much... but, when he figured he’d be in there for good, he gave up and peed INSIDE the carrier, on the small piece of carpet we’d put along its floor. poor guy!

so, we tossed the carpet, cleaned the carrier and just put a towel inside for later.

it was still early (before 9am), and the animal services centre didn’t open until 10:30am, so mom headed back into the house to have breakfast and i stayed in the (now closed) garage with bones to keep him company before his scheduled transport at 10am.

he kept right on purring and giving me hugs, never leaving my side. and then, much to my shock and amazement and delight, he walked over to the litter box, peered inside, gingerly put his front paws in to test it out... then stepped in, pooped out a pile of diarrhea (another common side effect of new food, and probably all that water he drank!), and covered it tidily with the litter. i was so excited to watch him do this that i didn’t move or make a sound the entire time he was in there, but as soon as he was done and he came back over to me, i rewarded him with three more kibbles and lots of praise.

he flopped down to take a shower (read: clean his bum), and i put a small pile of old rugs on the floor for me to sit on while he did so. when he was done, he walked over to me (STILL purring), curled up beside my thigh and rolled over for belly rubs. then, ever so tentatively, he looked at my lap. after a moment, he stepped onto it – ever so lightly! – curled up and went to sleep in my arms, purring the entire time. it was as though he knew he was finally safe, and could close his eyes in peace without worrying. so he did.

for a full half-hour.

for a full half-hour, we just sat there. me, cross-legged on some rugs on the cold cement floor of the garage; him, curled into a ball, eyes closed, purring, asleep. as corny or lame as it might sound, i was very moved by that time we had together and totally teared up. it was almost silent in there (save for the outboard-motor-like purring), and i just felt very glad i could provide this temporary sanctuary for such a sweet, and clearly weary, cat in need.

when it was time to go, we put him in the carrier again (he went quite easily and willingly), strapped it onto the back seat of the car and headed to the animal services centre. bones was calm and content the entire way there, never making a sound. he just lay down in the carrier, STILL PURRING!, and rode peacefully. (this is in stark contrast to kyle, who hates getting into his carrier and who meows loudly and desperately the entire time he’s in it.)

we arrived at the animal services centre just before they opened, but they let us in anyway. when they took my mom’s I.D. (since the cat was found on her property), they told us we’d come to the wrong shelter – that, due to the borough in which she lives, she needed to bring the cat to the appropriate shelter (agency rules)... which was 40 minutes away in the complete opposite direction. thankfully, they did give bones a quick once-over: he had no microchip (rats!), but he had been neutered (they were the ones who informed us he was a he, not a she) and they estimated he was about two years old. the woman on duty also said, after picking him to look at him, that he was really thin and had probably been lost for a while.

it was also there that, upon learning of his sex, i decided to rename bones and call him “herbie.” the name first came to mind because i’d been in the process of yanking hundreds of herb robert plants out of the garden when the cat first appeared, and i realized “herbert robert” would be an excellent name. herbie for short. plus, there’s Herbie: The Love Bug, the movie. and this feline herbie certainly was a love bug. so, it fit, and we’ve referred to him as herbie ever since.

we loaded him back into the car and began the trek to the next centre. herbie was once again quiet and peaceful, purring and occasionally glancing at me through the carrier windows. there was one moment where he began howling and meowing, seemingly inexplicably... until he farted and then settled right back down into docile purring. poor little guy’s digestive system must have been in all kinds of knots after having been starved for who knows how long and then suddenly filled with food.

we arrived at the second animal services centre, which was quite lovely inside, and waited for our turn at the desk. there were some people there browsing cats, and i worried they’d think we were surrendering our pet. i felt like telling anyone who glanced our way, “this is a stray! we rescued it! we want it to find its owner!”

the woman at the front desk took my mom’s info – this time, we were in the correct district branch – and asked some basic questions about herbie (sex? colour? approximate age? claws?). she reiterated their policy: they add the cat to their “found cats” department, where it’s held for five business days in case the owner(s) come to claim it, and then put it up for adoption if it remains unclaimed after that. she said we could put a hold on the cat if we wanted to adopt it after the found-cat period is over, but i said i’d think about it.

she then called for an attendant to come out to take the cat. “then you guys can leave,” she said happily, as though reassuring us we didn’t have any further responsibility.

“oh,” i said. “do we have to?”

and she said no, no, that we were totally allowed to stay if we wanted.

unfortunately, that information clearly wasn’t conveyed to the guy who came out from the rear of the shelter to get herbie. he opened up the carrier, pulled herbie out (because herbie didn’t want to come out) and held him for a few seconds to look him over. i explained that we’d found him outside, and that he was super-friendly. “and he hasn’t stopped purring. he’s probably purring right now,” i added.

“nope,” said the guy. “he’s not purring now.”

:-|

then the attendant turned and started carrying herbie away. i began to walk after him.

“i guess we follow you?” i said to the attendant. and he turned around and said, “nope.”

“oh. so... that’s it?” i asked.

“yup,” he answered, and then just disappeared with herbie.

that was it. the end.

we didn’t get to say goodbye, didn’t get to provide them with any other info about him, didn’t get to help him (herbie, not the attendant) settle in, nuthin’. in an instant, the cat was gone.

and i found it very upsetting.

too sudden. too fast. too abrupt and clinical. i understand that’s par for the course at an animal shelter, since staff members *have* to treat the animals in a comparatively detached way just to maintain their emotional sanity, but i wanted to make sure my little friend was okay, and not scared.

i wanted him to know that we weren’t just dumping him, but that we were leaving him there to get the medical help he needed (he’d scraped up the bridge of his nose at some point and looked like he might have ear mites or an ear infection) and maybe even get him back to a home he once loved. i wanted to reassure him.

most of all, i just wanted to say goodbye.

instead, i just walked back to the car with my mom and the empty carrier.

and had tears running down my cheeks all the way home.

we called the animal services centre later that afternoon, and were told that once he’d been vet checked and given an official I.D. #, they’d call us back to give us his info so we could keep track of how he was doing and follow-up with them to see if he’d been claimed or adopted out. i felt better after that. i may go visit him later in the week.

but i really don’t think adopting herbie is in my future. i’ve done nothing but think about it, and about him, for the past 48 hours. weighing options, listing pros and cons, researching everything from scratching posts to organic food to area vets, examining the realities, feeling guilty, feeling relieved, feeling sad, feeling content. it’s been a bit of a roller coaster.

and i slowly realized, for a number of reasons (about which i’ll blog tomorrow, so i ask that you please hold off on the “JUST BRING HIM HOME!!!!!” comments for now), adopting him is an idea that's wonderful in theory, but unrealistic in practice.

tonight, i’m just glad he’s somewhere safe and dry, being fed and watered and healed.