So, I am, once again, trapped in Harrison AR, where the KKK is listed in the phonebook. Needless to say this is not one of those fun "Oh I had a great time, and I got a great haircut" trips like I used to have to New York (every six weeks).
No, this is real work - both on and off the clock.
Had an exciting weekend though. On Saturday Kieran came over to visit and we had a fun time playing video games and talking about stuff. A little after six I went out to the car to get the dog's bowls from the back. It's about 5 degrees outside, and from under the car I hear this pathetic "merrrrooooow". It's a kitty cat. I pay very little attention to it, but it follows me. I open the door to the house, telling the dogs to stay back. They don't, of course and rush out to meet the kitty. Things look okay and sniffy for a second, then they go nuts. Kieran and I manage, finally, to pull them off the poor cat and get them inside. I assume the cat must be messed up.
Turns out, there is not a scratch on it, though Pumpkin later turned out to have a cat claw stuck near his mouth.
About 45 minutes later I go out to get some food for dinner. The cat is still on the front porch, and looking very sad. I go over to check on it. It's freezing to death. Literally. There is ice on it's coat and at least one of it's paws is ice-cold, and I am thinking "frostbite". I gather it up telling it I will take care of it (I am VERY allergic to cats). I put it in the car with me and go to get the food for me and Kieran - the whole way there it sits in my lap and goes "MROOOW!" every few seconds. I feel bad.
After getting the people food, I stop by the pet store and buy some cat food, and ask about cat rescue places. I get a number, and head home.
Once I get home, I set aside the human food and take a dish of water and a bowl of the cat food upstairs. I figured, weak cat, get wet, easy to eat food. God that stuff smells bad. Hold the cat way up high as I walk in to the house. Dogs are interested, but not nuts. They look at it with suspicion, but no specific ill-will. Get the kitty set up in a warm closet upstairs, and it starts to scarf down food like it's starving - it probably is.
After giving it a little while to settle down, I take it downstairs where it sits with me for a bit, till Kitsune gets too close and it starts to hiss. I figure better to avoid conflict, and take it upstairs and put it in the closet again.
At this point, my eyes are itchy, my skin is itchy, and I take a benzedrine, which seems to help. Kitty sleeps, I sleep, dogs sleep. Kieran stays up playing video games.
In the morning I try the rescue place again, still no answer. Since I am leaving town, Kieran and I have no choice but to take the kitty to the SPCA, to await it's death sentence.
I know that when I get back I am going to check on the kitty. If it's still there (one day before execution) I know that I will have to pick it up and find someway to take care of it, whether that means keeping it of getting it to a rescue place that doesn't euthanize.
Funny, if my dogs hadn't tried to kill it, that kitty would probably have frozen to death last night. Also funny, I think that with a little care the dogs will get along just fine with the kitty, who is old, and I think will be named something like "Mittens" or "Scurvy McScrufferson". No doubt past relations will be pissed off that I have a cat, when I said for years I could not because of allergies. Well, that is still true, but I never had to save and take care of one before. And well, that's what I do. Better it's a cat than a relationship.
God I am a softy.