For the past week-and-a-half, our small hospital has been hosting a very special feline. Her name is creatively lacking, perhaps, but something soulful about this old girl made “Momma Cat” seem so apropos I didn’t have the heart to veto it.
Momma Cat is a cool kitty not just because she’s easy-going and grateful, but also because of her impressive provenance. This cat survived five days in a trap as a cold front moved in and pelted her with rain, leaving her shivering and hungry while she waited to be sprung by her captors.
In the end her jailers never arrived. Instead, a neighborly dog walker finally noticed that the cat he’d seen in the local church’s trap early Thursday morning...was still in there when he passed the same way the following Tuesday.
Outraged at the evident disrespect for animal life, he brought her in to us, trap and all, but not before barging into the church’s main office to announce they’d be paying for this poor, mistreated cat’s veterinary care. The stunned receptionist very likely had naught to do with the inhumane events, but I confirmed she’d gotten the memo before getting to work on the emaciated and dehydrated Momma Cat.
NB: Not that I planned on denying aid. I made the phone call by way of determining how free a hand I’d have with my workup.
Extensive labwork, a weekend of IV fluid therapy and a whole week of nummy food. What else could a stray kitty want? I guess she might want to get back home to whomever spayed her and fed her on a regular basis but the chances of that outcome seem pretty slim.
For now, here she sits, convalescing nicely and offering me an excellent example of a negative corollary to an oldie-but-goldie Dolittler post entitled, “How to trap cats for fun and profit.”
P.S. Anyone in Miami want a sweet old kitty?
