Laurel's Unplanned Cat Rescue Service

A few weeks ago, I found a cat behind the SO’s house. This is not really an unusual occurrence. In general, the area behind the SO’s house is kind of like feral cat central (lots of woods), and none of the cats let me get near them. This is why I occasionally feel like I’m feeding a marauding band of homeless cats Meow Mix if Kitty Cat Jones dines al fresco.

(In my mind, they’re a gang kind of like The Outsiders, and they talk to each other in lots of, “What were you thinking man?” and “Ain’t nobody going to care about a bunch of greasers.” Yes, I know I’m nuts.)

This cat was different though. Scraggly, covered in fleas and crying, she didn’t seem like she was built for life on the outside. When she let me pick her up, I knew she was different. (And as soon as I realized she was de-clawed, I knew she was most certainly not running with the other gang.)

I treated the cat for fleas, and because of the intense crying, took her pretty quickly to my vet.

(As a not-really cat person, I still have no idea how I end up with so many cats.)

“Now what is your goal here?” the vet asked. (The vet my friends call SuperVet based solely on the way I talk about him. Really, I love this man.)

Knowing that two dogs and one cat was more than enough, and a second cat was probably a deal-breaker in my relationship, I explained that I wanted to get her better so that I could either find her owner or find her a new home.

“The let’s get started,” he said, and we agreed on a plan of action that involved a feline leukemia/HIV screening, steroids and cortisone.

Since the rescue kitty tested negative for all major diseases, she came back to my house later that day, and we started the work of putting some fat and some hair on her. So far, it’s going pretty well. Or, at least, I thought it was going pretty well.

The SO says, “I think this is one of those cats that will just never be pretty.”

(For awhile, in the early days, holding her was kind of like being in the Family Guy episode where Peter is surrounded by sickly cats and holds one at arm’s length saying, “No, no, you’re cute,” while wincing.)

My friend’s husband says, “She’s going to be one of those she’s so ugly she’s cute cats.”

Either way, she’s got a great little personality.

Of course though, in keeping with the tradition of ever changing cat names at our house, she’s already on name number three.

I started with Katniss because I was reading The Hunger Games and wanted to give her some appeal in the teen market/demographic.

A few days later, I went to Amy Whinehouse because she looks a little like Amy Whinehouse during the rough days, and she is kind of in rehab at my house.

Now, as of Saturday, she’s Buscemi (in honor of Steve Buscemi) because the SO says her looks would destine her for life as a character actor no matter how much talent she had.

So, Katniss Amy Buscemi continues to fatten up at my house. I don’t know if she’ll ever respond to a name, but at least no one is holding her at arm’s length anymore.