![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
There's a cat in my garage.
Aug. 30th, 2007 11:20 amAt least for a few more hours, until Chris gets home from work.
I left work about twenty minutes ago, and an orange-and-white cat was pacing next to the van, meowing. Not a kitten anymore, but not full-grown either. No collar.
Logic: "It's probably someone's pet anyway. Just go on home."
Inner Stray Magnet: "Here kitty!"
Cat: "Friend!!" *scurries over, purring*
Logic: "Oh no."
I might not have brought the cat home, except that we were right on Main Street and . . . yeah. Not a good combination.
Planned on putting him/her in the bathroom, but unfortunately the cat has a bit of a flea problem. I called mom to see if she wanted to adopt one more, and she said she'd talk it over with dad (he's not as much of a cat person as mom and I are). If they decide not to, then we'll take the cat out to our vet.
Several years ago, when my aunt and uncle and cousins and I were taking a walk, we heard this squeaking noise and started looking for the source. Found an adult cat dead in the ditch, and a very, very young kitten down in the storm drain. So we gather around the curb and my aunt has my uncle hold her ankles and lower her down so she can get the kitten. So much dirt and grimy water on the poor thing we could barely tell what color it was (orange) until we gave it a bath. At the time none of us could take in any more, so that one went out to the vet to be adopted.
And mom and dad got their third cat after a thunderstorm one Fourth of July-- when mom went out to repair her garden, a white kitten darted out from under the truck parked across the street and ran right up to her.
So I come by my Inner Stray Magnet naturally. :-)
Update: Went to our vet. They didn't have room. Went to the local Humane Society. Again, no room. Mom and dad said no thanks, and we can't afford another cat right now. At least not an indoor one. But since we do have a very large backyard and don't live near a busy road. . .
Poor Chris. I told him I had a surprise for him out in the garage--
Chris: "Is it a new Harley?"
Me: "Hon-- how long have you known me?"
Chris: *sighs* "Where'd you find it?"
So now we have a backyard cat named Harley. ;-)
I left work about twenty minutes ago, and an orange-and-white cat was pacing next to the van, meowing. Not a kitten anymore, but not full-grown either. No collar.
Logic: "It's probably someone's pet anyway. Just go on home."
Inner Stray Magnet: "Here kitty!"
Cat: "Friend!!" *scurries over, purring*
Logic: "Oh no."
I might not have brought the cat home, except that we were right on Main Street and . . . yeah. Not a good combination.
Planned on putting him/her in the bathroom, but unfortunately the cat has a bit of a flea problem. I called mom to see if she wanted to adopt one more, and she said she'd talk it over with dad (he's not as much of a cat person as mom and I are). If they decide not to, then we'll take the cat out to our vet.
Several years ago, when my aunt and uncle and cousins and I were taking a walk, we heard this squeaking noise and started looking for the source. Found an adult cat dead in the ditch, and a very, very young kitten down in the storm drain. So we gather around the curb and my aunt has my uncle hold her ankles and lower her down so she can get the kitten. So much dirt and grimy water on the poor thing we could barely tell what color it was (orange) until we gave it a bath. At the time none of us could take in any more, so that one went out to the vet to be adopted.
And mom and dad got their third cat after a thunderstorm one Fourth of July-- when mom went out to repair her garden, a white kitten darted out from under the truck parked across the street and ran right up to her.
So I come by my Inner Stray Magnet naturally. :-)
Update: Went to our vet. They didn't have room. Went to the local Humane Society. Again, no room. Mom and dad said no thanks, and we can't afford another cat right now. At least not an indoor one. But since we do have a very large backyard and don't live near a busy road. . .
Poor Chris. I told him I had a surprise for him out in the garage--
Chris: "Is it a new Harley?"
Me: "Hon-- how long have you known me?"
Chris: *sighs* "Where'd you find it?"
So now we have a backyard cat named Harley. ;-)
