Caught a Leftover at Very Old Woman Colony

Slant House Cat House, without lid!

This afternoon, I traveled to the Lebanon very old woman colony. I'd finished the Slant House Cat House. It's Fort Knox in construction! I made it from eave pieces discarded in Millersburg. That's couch stuffing as bedding, from a couch I tore up to get rid of, cannibalizing anything from it I could. It was so heavy to wrestle into my car, but somehow I did so.

I had some straw donated by two women over in SW Albany, whose stray male will be fixed this week.

I felt so bad for them. The roommate is the one I met, who moved here from NY state after she was laid off there, but has not found work so far here. She hopes to go to OSU, get retrained. But the woman she is now rooming with, lost her partner to cancer, then her job, and finally found another lower paying job. But the house is in foreclosure or will be very soon.

I felt bad just being in their house. That is so stressful, to have experienced such losses and now more losses. They have cats, then feed a few strays and they don't know where they'll find a place to live that will accept them.

Anyhow, I took the huge housing unit up to the old woman. Her son had just arrived. He comes up to visit routinely, from Grants Pass. He's very pleasant, but has severe asthma.

I was able to drop trap the final unfixed cat there, a brown tabby. I think it's a girl.

When I first arrived, I asked how the cats were doing. The old woman said they were all fine, then went inside. I looked across the yard and saw something in the grass. It was a dead black cat and very recently deceased, one of two black males I took to be fixed last September, but I don't know which, the younger one or the older one who had a severe constant chronic cold. I would guess it was him.

There was no marks on him. He had not been dead long. He was soaked to the skin. However, oddly, his head was not wet. There's a ditch full of water running behind her place. He must have been in that. He was just laying there, belly starting to bloat out from bacteria. I put him in a plastic bag and laid him by her garage and told her son.

One of the two very old calicos is drooling bloody pus from both sides of her mouth. How many times have I seen that here? Bad teeth. I wish I had a ton of money. If she can't have her teeth pulled, and nobody I know of has the money to pay for that and I don't know any vets that help out animals in need for a discount, she needs out of her misery.

I'll be glad to be done with that one and with this cat getting fixed, and her having plenty of housing units for her cats to stay warm, I'll be done once this one is returned. Yay!!!!! Yahooo!!!

That was the place where I spent a grueling all nighter, catching or grabbing or digging out 36 cats in all, 18 of them kittens. Safehaven took in the older litter of 8 and I handed out the other litter of ten to two Albany women, one of whom turned out to be a scam artist. The latter stole $50 from me, that was supposed to be used to take the kittens to the vet, then went silent. I only heard from her again when I ran into her at the Dollar Store. She said one kitten survived, but that she had others from under a shed outside her place that needed fixed. I made arrangements to get it done, along with two adult outside females of hers, and she never showed up and never answered her phone again. Somethings' seriously wrong with that girl.

Two others, that the other woman took in, survived also, of the ten, which is quite amazing really, considering the mothers' health, the fact she quickly abandoned most of the newborns and the fact she was nutritionally compromised to begin with and didn't have much to give ten kittens growing inside of her.

Of the other 18, four were teens, whom I adopted out, did not return and one male adult was euthanized at the clinic. So, of 36 cats and kittens, taken out in one day, only 13 returned. That's a lot of service to that neighborhood.

There was one tabby I did not catch. I was exhausted, transferring cats out of traps to carriers, trying to keep bottle babes alive, having to leave by 4:30 a.m. I left one trap set and went home to get three hours sleep, before leaving for the clinic, with 19 cats and ten bottle babes.

I returned on my way down to check that trap. Instead of the lone brown tabby left uncaught, inside the trap was a HUGE raccoon. And it was a small trap. I somehow got him out of there, and left.

But now, Ms. Brown tabby is caught and will be fixed and that will be that.Big Orange Tabby who Sat Soaked in a Trap, all warmed up.

The big orange tabby tux who sat in a trap exposed to rain is all warmed up and looking happier.

It is very hard, to round up cats, to fill a specific number of clinic spots. You would think ferals would be the hardest to judge a number that will be caught, but its the owner delivered tame cats who are, because a good half the people who vow they want their cats or kittens fixed, then never show up with them.

Trying to juggle that, find out if they really are going to show up, trying to cover my butt, so they don't dump them on me, by giving false names and addresses, it is very difficult.

Trying to figure out back up cats I can catch, in case the owned cats are not delivered, so I don't end up out half the night before leaving for the clinic, to fill the reservations, it ain't easy.

Take Lancaster Bridge apartments, for instance. I got the reservations this week because people there said they'd have a lot lined up, including the culprit household, that has many unfixed cats. They claimed that man was going to call. He never did, nor did any of the other tenants there with unfixed cats. Not a single one.

One of the most unexplainable bailouts happened years ago. A storage facility's owners, who lived on site, wanted 25 reservations at a Corvallis FCCO clinic for cats they claimed to feed that came over from a neighbors trailer. I didn't know any better and offered to help them trap when the FCCO coordinator asked if I would. They were a pair of lesbians, I remember that, and said they'd even use one storage unit to recuperate the cats in. I delivered them the traps and they promised to feed in one. But when I called that Saturday night, before clinic, I got no answer. I finally went over. The property was locked up, but they finally came out. It was already late. I asked how many they'd trapped so far. "None," the woman said, like she was mad. "We better get started," I said, "you have 25 reservations that otherwise would have been used by other cats to be fixed."

"We're not trapping, we're busy," she snarled. When I expressed outrage, she threw one of the traps over her fence at me. That triggered an all nighter for me, out in search of cats, here and there, to trap for the clinic, as I was embarrassed for the FCCO and the volunteer vets, not wanting all those clinic spots wasted because of a couple of lazy selfish people. I told a nearby business owner about their behavior and he told me I needed to stay away from that pair, that he thought they were nuts and maybe dangerous.

There have been many such bail outs, by people who just don't care who they inconvenience by not keeping appointments.

Nonetheless I had two people from Lebanon with a combined four cats and two more households in Albany, each with a single female cat, all needing fixed. This evening, I can't get ahold of any of these folks. Except for one of the two Lebanon women, who sounded groggy when she answered. She said she hadn't seen the kitten in two days and maybe tomorrow she'd talk to neighbors to see if they'd seen her kitten.

I said "No, sorry, tomorrow is the day you were supposed to meet me with the kitten." She had not called to tell me the kitten was now missing and she wouldn't be arriving to deliver her to be fixed.

The other Lebanon woman's phone number says its out of service. She has not responded to e-mails for a couple of days. Did she change her mind, I wonder, or give them away, I wonder. She had claimed she was going to an overnight family reunion Thursday and might have to get the cats back on Friday. Then she said she had a house sitter who would receive them back. I asked for that person's name, then, and phone number. But I haven't heard from her for two days now, and am very nervous about this one, since she was trying to give them all away. I do not now think I will hear from her again.

I left messages with both Albany women whose females are to go to be fixed. Have not heard back from either. I only leave a message if I don't hear back by e-mail. I know. Lots of people now don't use e-mail. They text or message on Facebook. I should be in the age, and text them.

The number of cats I expected to take, and now doubt will be delivered, are down by four and possibly by six. All the tame owned cats. Therefore, I better get out there with my traps. I can rely on myself at least. However, not sure if the cats involved will cooperate. Some things are hard to count on. Cat round ups are not easy.

What Does One Do?

I apologized to that old guy, who went off on me for bringing the three teens back. Yeah, I know. Pathetic. But I felt it was the only way to get the rest of the cats helped and it wasn't that big of a deal to me, to get yelled at or devalued.

He said he had, in the meantime, borrowed a trap. But nothing stuck I'd told him about trapping. He claims not to have been feeding the kittens, and said maybe somebody else was. I pleaded with him to put out food, that three of them just had surgery, all that. My heart was sinking into sadness.

He'd called this a.m., said there was a big orange one in the trap. I went over. Trap was set without paper lining it, without a cover, out in the open, just where the other cats would see it and be scared to see that right out in the open there. The cat had been in there all night, maybe longer and was soaking wet. Poor cat.

I again tried to explain that wasn't the way to do it, that we'd never catch the mother and the other teen unless he feeds them and doesn't put a trap out like that. I don't think I got through. So I brought the orange boy here, to warm him up. I don't know if he's wild or tame or fixed or not, because he's so cold and scared from being in an uncovered trap in the pouring rain for who knows how long.

I tried to call his church friend then, the woman who referred him to me, whom I know, asking her to talk to him, about feeding the cats and to help him trap or give him encouragement. No answer. I tried to contact her on chat and after my first message, she switched it to the "I'm busy" message.

I'm frustrated, sad, but I can only to the best I can over there. Breaks my heart to think of those teens though and the impossibility of trapping there, without some intervention from his friends who have gone "dark".

The Freddies Coat

The Coat

The coat I got from my Vancouver friend for Christmas is a really nice coat, a fancy coat by all accounts, by my standards. It's a three piece ski jacket, with hood. I liked it. But when I put it on, the sleeves came to mid forearm. I was so disappointed.

There was no gift receipt inside. I contacted my friend by e-mail. She's in the middle of a family crisis of sorts. Her daughter's baby is trying to come out way too early. She's been hospitalized with leaking water, as they try to allow Karson to get more time in the womb before emergence.

She sent me a copy of the receipt and that's when I trucked off to Fred Meyer, anticipating no problems at all. They refused to take back the coat. It was the manager's call. She could have said yes. The problem: the receipt was a copy.

They offered me instead a gift card worth considerably less than the coat was bought for. I was shocked and said "but that's like stealing from my friend." If I'd then tried to get a larger size of the same coat in their store, I would have had to shell out my own money. The coat I was returning, all tags still hanging, would have been hung right back on the rack too at a price higher than what they gave me in return. Seems like a great big huge scam.

When I got home, I called up my friend, to let her know. My friend said she would call Freddies last night and call me back. She didn't call back. I assume she got nowhere. I'm sending the coat by mail back to her today to let her deal with it at the Freddies up there where she bought the coat.

I could have used a coat. But I have two coats now. I have a blue coat I bought in the 80's at Kmart. I've worn it every winter since. I know, I can hear people groan, it's older than many people I know. I am not fashion minded, I'll tell you right now. One can't be in my shoes. I wear what I've got and I'm interested only in function these days. Almost all my shirts are T-shirts and some of those are ancient. If I see clothing, my first thoughts are: How long will that last? Is it made well? Will it hold up?

That old Kmart coat has held up, for decades. I can't argue with its durability. Good looking? Not so much. It looked good once. It's warm still, and sheds light rain, even though not technically waterproof.The Ancient Kmart coat.

The other coat I have doesn't fit, but it's too big rather than too small, so I wear it. I got it at Value Village and it is a Lands End coat, light in weight, not warm, but good when layering! It breaks the wind and if I need warmth too, I add something underneath. It has a few stains which may be why someone left it off there in a donation box at one point. It works for me.Value Village Lands End coat.

I would have loved a stylish functional coat. It wasn't to be. I have two perfectly functioning coats already. I shouldn't be greedy. Nobody needs three coats in their closet.

I am a warm blooded person. I don't wear a coat when others are freezing. I've always been that way.

What makes me happy is that my friend thought of me and took all that trouble to pick out a coat then to mail it to me in the midst of holiday madness and having her own family and being so busy.

Now that is something to think about. With a smile.

As I grow older, different things are important to me. Just to think about someone going through a rack of coats, hundreds of miles from me, with me in mind, warms my soul more than any coat ever would.

Old coats I find are like old friends--comforting, warm, familiar.

Slap in the Face from Fred Meyer in Albany

My Vancouver WA friend sent me a coat for Christmas. It was beautiful, but did not fit. I contacted her about this and she sent a copy of her store receipt, so I could exchange it.

I go to Fred Meyer with the coat and receipt. Wasn't good enough, because it was a copy and didn't have a bar code or something. So it was up to the store manager, I was told, if they'd take it back. She refused but they did offer, really hopefully, a gift card, worth $20 less than my friend paid for the coat.

That is unbelievable! It's stealing. I refused, told them that wasn't right. There was no sympathy or apologies from the manager.

I just talked to my friend, who is going to call the store and try to give them what they need to exchange it at the value she paid out. They said the return exchange they wanted to give was the lowest amount the coat ever sold for. WTF?

I told her I'd tried to tell them, when they asked if I had her phone number, that I only hear from her once a year and that she adopted a cat from a Lebanon collector's house from me years ago! I told her I said that because I was trying to sound legit, not like a thief, and I shouldn't have had to feel that way, because it was them trying to steal $20 from her.

Samson, by the way, a beautiful Chocolate Point Siamese male, I took out of a trailer outside Lebanon that had, in places, three foot high piles of cat shit and a crazy man who called it home, is still doing just fine, although he lives with my friends' ex now.

I still lived in Corvallis when I tackled that terrible situation, at the request of Linn County mental health. Nobody else would help. Suzanne came down to get Samson and brought me about four big bags of cat food. Every year since, she has sent me a box at Christmas, full of fun goodies. I love that family! Her daughter is currently on bed rest in the hospital, awaiting the birth of the newest member! It's a boy, just waiting to enter our world. He's trying to get out early.

Who would have thought, wading around in cat shit like that, breathing in pure ammonia, trying to save about two dozen cats unlucky enough to have ended up there, would have resulted in a life long friendship. I lucked out.

Lost Boy Finds A Porch, Needs a Home

Big long hair neutered male, who showed up in N. Albany, as a starved skinny desperate stray.

I was called by someone I helped a couple months back, taking in four cats to be fixed. They just had a skrawny tame neutered male arrive begging for food on their porch. He once was a big cat! He loves other cats, too. Where did he come from? He could be one of the cats dumped behind Ray's by the Hill Street man who trapped neighbor's cats to dump. I e-mailed his photo to a neighbor of a man who lost two cats, still missing, to his neighbor's cruelty. Maybe it will be one of his.

For now, I gave these folks, whose porch he found, a bag of food, some flea treatment and wormed him. They say he's already starting to look a little better.

A woman called about a black cat with a broken leg. She mistakenly thought I had brought the cat, with some others, to her neighbor, from a West Fir rescue. I actually thought my West Fir friend adopted some cats to her neighbor also, but after e-mailing her, and trying my best to recall that exchange, I think she adopted them out elsewhere.

The Albany woman had contacted her over an ad she placed trying to locate a home for some cats. My West Fir friend then contacted me to ask if I knew the woman. I had thought she ended up adopting them out to her, but she doesn't think she did and I can't remember anything more about it.

I met the neighbor about a year ago, when she was selling used carriers. It was then she said she was caring for cats her neighbor had taken in. I had then also thought the cats the neighbor had were from West Fir, and told her that, but now I don't think she ever adopted those cats. Anyhow, the neighbor woman's cats, from wherever she got them, ended up over at this woman's place because the other woman doesn't feed them, or rarely does, this woman told me.

So she called today wanting me to take in the one with the broken leg, and take care of him. I told her I don't have any money. She described the cat as "one of those you brought over here" which isn't what happened. I wish I could help the cat, but I can't help every cat. I don't have that kind of money. Or space.

Daisy Rumbles with Rumby

Discontent! Rumby tries to settle in atop Miss Daisy, who is not happy.Daisy ferments with Rumby's needy intrusion.Daisy's discontent erupts. First bite!Daisy launches herself at Rumby and takes Rumby down!
Suri, nestled under my comforter, legs crossed.
Window cats Jade and Shaulin.
Shed cat! Zeva, who lives on another block but is always over here, mooching food from my neighbor or me, or living in my other neighbors shed.

I Watched the Debate

There was nothing else on besides the debate. So I half watched it. It was boring. Except this wasn't boring: over half the candidates: Romney, Santorum, Perry and Gingrich, are hawks and expressed interest in returning troops to Iraq. Whoa nilly!

Santorum is the most aggressive hawk. I don't like him. I think he's dangerous. He came across to me as like one of those jocks, from high school, wanting to beat up on everyone who doesn't worship him and who spends time admiring himself in the mirror, like someone on injectable testosterone. I think he'd love to start WWIII!

Santorum is exactly the opposite of how he portrays himself. He works to push the agendas of health insurance companies and other big corporations on the hill now, aa a "consultant". He makes tons of money doing it, too. You would not have to look far to find out who is driving his campaign and it's not little people or middle class people.

Perry seems to have the least brain ability, Huntsman and Paul the most.

Huntsman I could live with. He is presidential, seems honest, if unexciting, intelligent and well studied. Paul has the best foreign policy.

Romney seems like a golden lab to me, tongue lolling, mouth open, eyes happy, oh so eager to please. He'll sit, stay, say anything, and chase a frisbee for your vote.

Santorum seems like a poisonous snake, ready to strike, with venom, wanting to strike, aching to strike out at anyone and everything, yearning for the powers of the office so he can get back at everybody. I think he has issues. Long standing.

Newt has issues too, but he's been de-fanged and knows he won't win. He wants to stay a threat, a contender, a spoiler for his arch rival Romney. He despises Romney's two facedness. Newt comes across to me as a ground hog. I don't know why. I want to pinch his cheeks. They're so cute.

Perry is a happy go lucky untrained pit bull who urinates on every tire, even his owners, who beat him, so he's laying in wait to bite back one day (he doesn't know if he'll get the nerve, but he likes to growl in the mean time). His brain was damaged during birth however, so thoughts of revenge are hard to plan out. They quickly blur around the edges.

Ron Paul is the sour grape, an old shriveled antelope, who wants left alone and wants everyone in the country left alone because we all must want left alone like he does. He's wise, because he's survived a long long time, successfully eluded all sorts of things that wanted to eat him over and over again. His views are crusted over in age though and need uncrusted and cleaned up.

Huntsman is the Koala Bear just emerging through the jungle and all the other unsightly animals. Let's oooh and aaaaw over him awhile. Koala Bears are so cute and they speak mandarin, turns out.

The debate scared me. All those guys talking about starting wars in this country or that, but they won't be over anywhere fighting. They'll be sitting in easy chairs fist pumping a touch down on TV while young men and women die and lose limbs and are damaged forever. They scare me.

At one point in the debate I thought they were going to whip out a measuring tape and compare penis sizes. Mitt Romney, Jon Huntsman and Ron Paul would have opted out. Ron Paul would have said "this is just silly". Jon Huntsman would have said "Oh wait, here now, my father would not approve!" And Mitt Romney would opt out because he doesn't actually have a penis. The other three good old boys would be enthusiastically dropping their pants on national TV to prove who's bigger and badder. That was my impression. I couldn't shake it.

So I turned it off, that TV, shut it down, that debate, cleaned up some hairballs and drank a beer.