Here's something you might be interested in.
I know the saga of the cat has gotten old, but I really feel like I need to let you all know how it turned out. I know I said I would keep my decision private. That was because I became concerned by the content of one of the comments. As the comments played out, I realized that my concerns were unwarranted.
Animal control has had Clyde (yes, that's what I named him) for the last week. They sedated him on Thursday, and gave him a full examination. I called again on Friday to go pick him up. When I got there, I spoke with the vet who treated him. He was dehydrated, had multiple sores around his neck from the spool, and was, from their definition, not in great shape. I was standing there, in the middle of animal control, asking this vet what I should do with him. This is what she said. "Well, you can release him back, but what if he has kidney disease? He does have dehydration. But then, some cats just run slightly dehydrated, so it could be normal. Then again, he could also become a target for other animals because of the sores. But we gave him antibiotics, so those should clear up soon." By now my head is spinning. They wear their emotions close to their sleeve, and give you no advice as to what to do when presented with this situation. I ask her "but what should I do?!" She says "well, that's a philosophic question. Is he better off being released in his condition only to be perhaps hit by a car or die of some disease, or is he better of dead?" You see where this is going. I got the impression that she was hoping I would just give up and tell them to go ahead and put him down. I started crying. I asked "but what would you do? JUST SAY IT!" She started to say something and then firmly shut her mouth.
I thought back to the cat when I brought him in. He was feisty, and did not look thin or too beat up. He was just extremely scared and angry. It suddenly dawned on me. I'll take him to my own vet. I took matters into my own hands, told her I was going to call my vet, and if they would examine Clyde, I'd be back to get him the next day. Driving back to work, I was getting pissed and really concerned, because so much time had lapsed between when I found him and animal control's reluctance to release him to me. I was also worried that my vet would say no way, and then what?
Well, I called my vet, told them the tale of Clyde, and asked if they would treat a feral cat. She said bring him on in, Saturday at noon. Almost all the vets in San Diego work with animal control and The Feral Cat Coalition. Yes! Now we are getting somewhere. I had to time it perfectly, because I did not want too much time between his adoption and his appointment. I love our vet's office. They are the greatest people and I've trusted them with the care of our pets for years. So I go to animal control this morning, and the Feral Cat Coalition has an information booth set-up outside in the courtyard. I start talking to them about Clyde, and how this has been such an emotional issue for me. They told me that animal control's job is to protect the public. Which made perfect sense. Of course they would. That's what they are there for. Feral cats go against what they are trying to accomplish, although they do work closely with the Coalition to spay and neuter. The Coalition, on the other hand, deals with what is an enormous problem, in the best way they know how. To trap, neuter, release.
I finally get Clyde after filling out his adoption forms. He hisses at me. I also get a lovely little care package, with a CD "You and Your Newly Adopted Cat". I had to laugh. We load him the car, and I sit in the back seat with him. For some reason, he calms down in the car. I get to the vet, and wait. The waiting room is filled with dogs, barking and being rambunctious. I feel bad for poor Clyde. Hasn't this poor guy been through enough? Captivity is extremely stressful for ferals. Then my husband, who is paying for our cats' food, steps back from the counter and accidentally kicks his carrier. Good grief. They call us back to the exam room. The vet looks at Clyde and says hi. She does the soothing kitty sounds, and she remarks that he does not seem that wild. Right then he reared up and gave her a ferocious hiss and a swat through the carrier. "There we go!" she laughed. After looking closely at him for several minutes, she said "this cat's not in bad shape at all. He's been treated for everything wrong with him, and we will give him an extra shot of antibiotics just to be safe. But he is definitely feral". I asked her if releasing him back to his home would be the best thing for him. Her answer? "Absolutely. Today."
As we drove back to Clyde's digs, I felt happy with the outcome. I think I did what was best for him. Relieved from my duty as potential executioner, I gave him a second chance. As I opened the carrier and saw him run back to his home, I felt better than I have all week. And I think he did, too.
I know the saga of the cat has gotten old, but I really feel like I need to let you all know how it turned out. I know I said I would keep my decision private. That was because I became concerned by the content of one of the comments. As the comments played out, I realized that my concerns were unwarranted.
Animal control has had Clyde (yes, that's what I named him) for the last week. They sedated him on Thursday, and gave him a full examination. I called again on Friday to go pick him up. When I got there, I spoke with the vet who treated him. He was dehydrated, had multiple sores around his neck from the spool, and was, from their definition, not in great shape. I was standing there, in the middle of animal control, asking this vet what I should do with him. This is what she said. "Well, you can release him back, but what if he has kidney disease? He does have dehydration. But then, some cats just run slightly dehydrated, so it could be normal. Then again, he could also become a target for other animals because of the sores. But we gave him antibiotics, so those should clear up soon." By now my head is spinning. They wear their emotions close to their sleeve, and give you no advice as to what to do when presented with this situation. I ask her "but what should I do?!" She says "well, that's a philosophic question. Is he better off being released in his condition only to be perhaps hit by a car or die of some disease, or is he better of dead?" You see where this is going. I got the impression that she was hoping I would just give up and tell them to go ahead and put him down. I started crying. I asked "but what would you do? JUST SAY IT!" She started to say something and then firmly shut her mouth.
I thought back to the cat when I brought him in. He was feisty, and did not look thin or too beat up. He was just extremely scared and angry. It suddenly dawned on me. I'll take him to my own vet. I took matters into my own hands, told her I was going to call my vet, and if they would examine Clyde, I'd be back to get him the next day. Driving back to work, I was getting pissed and really concerned, because so much time had lapsed between when I found him and animal control's reluctance to release him to me. I was also worried that my vet would say no way, and then what?
Well, I called my vet, told them the tale of Clyde, and asked if they would treat a feral cat. She said bring him on in, Saturday at noon. Almost all the vets in San Diego work with animal control and The Feral Cat Coalition. Yes! Now we are getting somewhere. I had to time it perfectly, because I did not want too much time between his adoption and his appointment. I love our vet's office. They are the greatest people and I've trusted them with the care of our pets for years. So I go to animal control this morning, and the Feral Cat Coalition has an information booth set-up outside in the courtyard. I start talking to them about Clyde, and how this has been such an emotional issue for me. They told me that animal control's job is to protect the public. Which made perfect sense. Of course they would. That's what they are there for. Feral cats go against what they are trying to accomplish, although they do work closely with the Coalition to spay and neuter. The Coalition, on the other hand, deals with what is an enormous problem, in the best way they know how. To trap, neuter, release.
I finally get Clyde after filling out his adoption forms. He hisses at me. I also get a lovely little care package, with a CD "You and Your Newly Adopted Cat". I had to laugh. We load him the car, and I sit in the back seat with him. For some reason, he calms down in the car. I get to the vet, and wait. The waiting room is filled with dogs, barking and being rambunctious. I feel bad for poor Clyde. Hasn't this poor guy been through enough? Captivity is extremely stressful for ferals. Then my husband, who is paying for our cats' food, steps back from the counter and accidentally kicks his carrier. Good grief. They call us back to the exam room. The vet looks at Clyde and says hi. She does the soothing kitty sounds, and she remarks that he does not seem that wild. Right then he reared up and gave her a ferocious hiss and a swat through the carrier. "There we go!" she laughed. After looking closely at him for several minutes, she said "this cat's not in bad shape at all. He's been treated for everything wrong with him, and we will give him an extra shot of antibiotics just to be safe. But he is definitely feral". I asked her if releasing him back to his home would be the best thing for him. Her answer? "Absolutely. Today."
As we drove back to Clyde's digs, I felt happy with the outcome. I think I did what was best for him. Relieved from my duty as potential executioner, I gave him a second chance. As I opened the carrier and saw him run back to his home, I felt better than I have all week. And I think he did, too.