FASHION: MY NEW T-SHIRTS

(Sometimes, if I think it has a wider appeal, I'll reprint a piece from my Cat rescuing blog. Often it will be changed in some way, either slightly rewritten or the emphasis changed which is the case here. Most, though not all, of it is exactly the same and it's still really about cats. Well, no, actually it's really about me.)

I said-

"I picked up this 8-week old kitten this morning.

"Along with an 18 month old black and white un-neutered male. Apparently the adult cat had been left behind when his owner moved and the new owner took him on along with  young kitten but then changed her mind and passed them on to the young woman who handed them over to me because her two young sons were allergic to them.

"Anyway, I took them to Carol's. Carol rang Roker Park vets to see if they would keep the boy in overnight and neuter him in the morning, which they would, so I took him down. He's a bit nervous but quite placid really."

"You talk about nothing but cats," my wife said.

"Rubbish," I said. "I sometimes talk about kittens, maybe mention dogs, and occasionally things like guinea pigs. Of course I don't talk about cats all the time."

"Everyone in the shop thinks you do," said my wife.

"It's a charity shop raising money to rescue and re-home animals," I said. "I do the cat side of things. What else am I going to talk about to tell them how the money they raise is spent?"

"Lots of things," my wife said.

Of course there's no answer to that. My interests, however, are far wider than cats as any regular reader of this blog  can attest. But, no, it is true that, given the chance, I will talk about cats. My first genuine memory is of carrying home a ginger kitten in a wicker basket. Apart from term time at college for three years and the first three and half years Susan and I were married, I've never been without a cat or (as things are now) eight.

So, as I apparently wear my heart on my sleeve, I've now decided to wear it on my chest as well and have just bought the following two t-shirts.

Much to my surprise, Susan likes the first one but, much to my surprise, dislikes the second, considering it unsuitable for me.

But I don't care. I'm too old and too uncaring of what strangers think of me to be embarrassed by looking like a weirdo/fashion disaster, though I don't think I do and like the cat-face shirt more though I do like the play on words/allusion of the other. I would have shown you photos of me wearing them but Susan refused to take the pictures.

(That's actually a lie, but I thought it sounded funny.)

ANIMAL RESCUE: SHIT SATURDAY

I've been doing a lot of cat rescuing and other animal-related stuff lately and I've been feeling stressed and irritable (see previous somewhat intemperate post for an idea of my mood) and in need of a few days break, plus I had some personal paperwork stuff to sort out before the end of the month. So I decided to take a break for five days starting Saturday just gone.

So of course Susan has me loading the van in the pouring rain to fill it with stuff that's been hanging around for a while to take to Barnardo's in the city centre where I then unload it in the pouring rain. After that I went home for coffee and a nap and switched off my phone.

The landline phone woke me from a doze at one point but I ignored it. Shortly after that Susan arrived and told me that Carole had an emergency with a cat and, as all the vets were close, I had to take it to the PSDA emergency vet service at Heworth.

I went over and Carole was quite worked up, saying she'd never seen anything like it and got me to touch the side of the cat's head.

"It's an abscess," I said, a burst and very large abscess. Carole said the cat was only two years old and had been told that by its former owner. 

Half an hour later and I was with the vet and it was apparent that there was more wrong with it than just the abscess. The abscess itself was enormous and hadn't just appeared overnight. The vet said it was also affecting its inner ear. The ears themselves were speckled dark black. The long haired ginger cat's coat was heavily matted, a sign of stress, and the cat itself was very thin. And, far from being two years old, the vet told me it was a geriatric cat in which case the weight loss was a sure sign of a cat on the way out.

"Am I being horrible if I ask you to put him to sleep?" I asked the vet.

She said, "No, I think it's the best thing."

He didn't react at all when part of his leg was shaved or when the needle was inserted and his breathing stopped before even the last drop had been injected into him.

I called in at the shop on the way back to tell Susan and Andrea what had happened and then went home thinking that was that for the day. Sadly, not. Teatime and Susan had gone to visit her mother in the home when Little Bob started crying. I thought it was just him psyching himself up to do a poo but the crying went on. I picked him up and saw that his right eye had swollen up and his lower inner eyelid had also swollen and covered his eyeball. Little Bob was distressed and in pain. I rang Susan and told her to come home as we needed to take him to the emergency vets. 

In the end, Susan was too stressed so I just took Little Bob on my own. Just as well as there were a number of idiotic drivers driving far too fast in the dark on wet dual carriageways which meant trying to change lanes was a nightmare. Poor Little Bob was screaming his head off the whole time, though he calmed down once we got there. The same receptionist was on duty and we had a bit of a problem because they couldn't find Animal Krackers account, head office was closed, and her boss was off . This had happened earlier as well but this time they needed a deposit from me to cover both sessions -luckily I had my wallet with me as I had to pay £110.00 on my Visa card. The cost of the poor ginger cat alone was over £200.00.

The vet was reassuring when she checked the kitten over. It was probably caused by a cat scratch on the eye and the swelling can go down quite quickly. Unless it was an abscess behind the eye in which case the eye itself would have to be removed. Given the way Little Bob and Daisy play fight then a scratch is definitely the most likely. I hope. The vet gave him an antibiotic injection and an anti-inflammatory to reduce the pain and swelling. Then back down wet dual carriageways with lunatics driving far too fast and home.

Thirty six hours later and Bob isn't complaining, though his eye is still swollen and I'm about to take him to our vets to be checked out.

It would be nice to think that that's the only animal-related activity I'll be doing this week other than looking after my own cats but I am taking one cat to his new fosterer and hopefully permanent new owner this teatime and I'll be very surprised  if other things don't crop up.

If I suddenly stop blogging, it's because I've cracked up through stress and I am stress and anxiety-prone so that isn't really a joke.

HARRASSED & HECTIC

Been one of those weeks.

Last Wednesday, Eric the joiner (who's been doing jobs for us for nearly 20 years) and his son Adam arrived to create a new bathroom for us and he only, not quite, finished yesterday, so the house has been chaotic and for the last three days I've been peeing into a glass vase in the kitchen during their working hours. Still, now that he's almost, but just not quite put a couple of finishing touches, finished, it's looking pretty good. Here's a picture of what it partly looked like last week.

And, yes, that is my thumb upper left.

Saturday and Animal Krackers had a stall at a local community fete in the grounds of a primary school. We had a tombola, a lucky dip with parcels for boys, girls, tiny tots boys, and tiny tots girls, and lots of cuddly toys (buy a ticket and get the one with the matching number). We ended up taking over £200.00 which wasn't bad, plus it helped raise our profile.  Here's us.

About 12.45 I wanted to take a break and pop home for lunch when I met Gordon, one of our founders, who told me a kitten had been handed in at the shop and the staff in weren't great when it came to looking after it so off I went. She's about four months old and everything a naughty little kitten should be. We've had her at our house for five days and the chances of her being re-homed are getting lower the longer she stays.

On the other hand, last week Carol asked me if I could give a young cat she had a little one to one TLC, I could keep it in a cage in the garage. So I did. Here's her picture. Sweet little thing, isn't she.

Purrs and rubs herself against you until the moment she launches an attack with her claws. My nephew Alex, who was helping put up some standalone bookshelves saw me with my face dripping blood and a neighbour with teeth buried in the back of my hand. Apparently she lived with some junkies who thought to share their habit with her which might explain her behaviour. Whatever the reason, she is actually a dangerous cat and I really don't know what to do with her.

Right this minute there is a small elderly terrier-type dog in a large cage in our dining room where she is recovering after having had an operation to remove a tumour almost the size of a football from her belly. You can just about see the tumour by her hind leg in the photo.

Just after I uploaded the photo a few minutes ago, Susan shouted for me to come down. The dog, Trixie, was on her feet and had knocked over her water bowl. It's clear she's stressed and doesn't know where she is or where she wants to be. Susan is very upset but, as I told her, there's nothing we can do except wait for nature to take its course. We've done all we could for her and now she'll either get better or she won't.

The reason she's here is because Susan saw her went she took some food to West Hall, a commercial dog kennel which the council pays to take in strays. The strays, like Trixie, get the poorest conditions. Trixie had been in this state there for nearly two months. Despite a vet saying she should be put to sleep, nothing has been done and there seems to be no documentation so we know nothing about her. We brought her home yesterday after having her checked out by one of our charity's vets. I took her out for a walk in the rain late last night and again early this morning and then she went for her operation.

There's other stuff been going on but right now I'm not in the best of moods so I'll leave it at that.

CAT RESCUE: Getting it wrong.

Seaham is a small coastal town just a couple of miles south of Sunderland. Like many north east towns it used to have a pit (as in coal). Coal mining in the region was very strong. Even Sunderland, world famous once upon a time for its shipbuilding had several pits including one where Sunderland Association Fooball team now play; it's filled in and covered by the Stadium of Light.

Faded glories, all gone.

The main street of Seaham facing out to sea is quite attractive with its mix of the new and the old Victorian buildings. But behind it is a picture of a struggle to overcome decline with its blend of new buildings, council housing, and rusting, but some still functioning, factories.

It was in the ground of one of these factories that a nice lady feeds feral cats at the same time every day. I'd come to pick up the one cat that wasn't feral (pictured above) but was in, she said, declining condition. So we turned up and so did a feral black cat. Then a little feral female tabby which usually hung around with the one I'd come for. After half an hour and when I was just about to give up, it arrived. Allowing me to stroke it, I grabbed it and bagged it, took it home, placed it in the cage, gave it food and water and left it overnight.

Next morning, swimming at 7.30, 8.15 collect female cat for neutering and deliver to vets. Unfortunately, this little sweet house cat didn't want to go in the cat carrier, though go it did, but when I arrived at the vets it had burst out and hidden under the passenger seat. Five minutes later and some noticeable blood loss, I handed it over.

Home and I got the rescued cat into the van and headed to Stray Aid (see previous posts). The reaction I got wasn't what I expected. Instead I found myself on the receiving end of a lecture about rescuing stray cats when there was no way of ascertaining that they were indeed stray. That this could open us up to being sued for catnapping (no joke). I offered to take it back but Sue the vet (pun unintended), not the person who delivered the lecture that being her husband, was concerned about the cat's condition -it being very apathetic.

To cut a short story even shorter: it had feline leukemia and was put to sleep.

But basically, when someone gets in touch and say she's (it's always a she) worried about a stray cat, we (that is me, as representing Animal Krackers) can't, in law, do anything expect tell her to get in touch with the RSPCA who are allowed to rescue stray cats; except they'll probably do nothing.

I'm not feeling happy about the entire thing and will probably take it up another time.