Last weekend, an old acquaintance contacted me on Facebook. She used to live across the street. They had moved to a bigger property and house a few miles from here. We cat sat for them a few times, but then just lost contact, for whatever reason. She was the neighbor who trapped a very pregnant Lonee Gail so long ago; she's where Lonee got her middle name.
Well, life goes on and circumstances change. She's single now and lives up in the Los Angeles area. She recently had her elderly parents move in with her. Her mom has a nine year old cat named Rocky and the landlord does not want the cat in his condo. He wants it gone. He'd told her that if he gave her a twenty-four hour notice, he could enter the premises and remove the cat. Well, that's illegal as all get out, he couldn't remove the cat. But he could evict her. He wanted the cat gone within twenty-four hours.
She asked if I knew of anyone who could help her (okay, okay, just keep your thoughts to yourself right now, we all knew how this was going to turn out, so just shut up about it, okay? ). I put out feelers on Facebook. A photo and a plea and a "please share" note. And rescuers know it's all about the backstory. Sad backstory, better chance that kitty will have a home. This is what I posted on Facebook, along with a photo of him last Saturday:
|Rocky needs a home, can you help? He's in Sherman Oaks, California.
Rocky is a nine year old kitty who needs a home. His owners have to give him up. They had to move in with their daughter. His dad is in hospice. His mom dearly loves him and is heartbroken, but the landlord doesn't want him there and has told them that as long as he gives them a 24 hour notice, he can enter the premises and remove this kitty.
They've tried local rescues, but the rescues all say he's too old for them to take, that it's too hard to place senior kitties. (As someone with three twenty year old cats, this just amazes me...nine years old? Senior?)
He's neutered, an affectionate lap kitty (and at fifteen pounds, it sounds like he can fill a lap) and seems to get along well with the daughter's Yorkie.
Please help him find a forever home.
There was a lot of sharing and one solid offer by Sunday. But things were getting scary up in Sherman Oaks. She has ten months left on a twelve month lease. Her landlord is an obvious asshole (a human asshole, not the same as Charlie) and has no sympathies for her situation.
Lots of messaging between Gail and me. I'm in tears. I feel so badly for her mother, I know how much my mom loved her cats. At times, I think they were the only things keeping her alive (well, beer, too, that kept her alive). And she loved the hell out of Bobby, I watched the two of them together the day before her brain melted. He made her laugh like I hadn't heard in years. So, I know how important these little furry four footed critters are. So, Sunday night, Brian said "he can come here" (was there really ever any question about this happening?). Because we know he'll have a good home, I'll keep in contact with Gail (and by association, her mother). I'll post pictures and stories and updates on my weblog and on Facebook (all of my blog entries go to FB, too). I tell her.
There was some back and forth and originally, she was to bring him down on Wednesday, but the fear of the landlord brought them down on Monday. It was a three hour trip, one way, a long drive for humans, longer for a kitty cat in a carrier. Her mom hadn't wanted to come inside, but I felt it would be good for her to see where her beloved Rocky was going to live. And to see the backyard, where he could chase whatever he felt like chasing. We let him out of the carrier right away (don't do long introductions here).
I think she was as happy as circumstances allowed. We'd let them know that if they moved and lived in a place where cats were allowed, Rocky could go back to them. That's only right.
So, Rocky checked out a couple of rooms, there was some hissing and growling. He spent a few minutes under my desk on some boxes (and threw up). He went into Brian's bathroom and lay on the shower floor.He got on the bed and laid down on a blanket. He growled. He growled at me when I petted him. He was very upset, very afraid. He ended up in the office, on top of the stereo. He spent twenty-four hours awake. I don't know if he got down during the night, because yesterday morning, he was back on the stereo. I got a step stool and tried to get him to eat, but he was having none of this. So, I got out the big guns. We quit giving the cats food with fish in it last year. Fish is NOT good for cats. But in a pinch, tuna is very tasty and has flipped the appetite on switch in many a difficult situation. This was one of them. With stepstool in place and open can of tuna in one hand, I rubbed a little tuna juice on his lips. He licked it off and turned his head away from me. I took out a very small piece of tuna and put it on his lips. He licked it off, looked the other way. I gave him another piece. He didn't turn his head this time, but he started to eat the few pieces in front of him.
He ate a fair amount, then I backed off, taking tuna and stepstool out of the office. And an hour or so later, he was fast asleep. No longer on guard. He finally relaxed.
Some photos. As always, clicking on them will take you to a bigger photo. If you want to see it even bigger, click on the photo you're taken to...(updated and changed software).
This morning he starts to relax
Yeah, he's just chillin' now...
And then there's this little video: