the song is "Mean To Me" by Ahlert/TurkSnickers My handsome blue-eyed boy, with a scabby nose On January 22, 2001, I was asked to go to a county animal control shelter to pick up a couple of dogs for the rescue group. This is a very small shelter with only one room, and the cats are kept in the same area as the dogs in a "cat pen" - a dog kennel with chicken wire on the outside to prevent the cats from slipping through the bars, and with wooden cubicles mounted on one wall for the cats to hide in. I couldn't help looking in the cat pen, and I spied a gorgeous, tiny little flame-point Siamese hiding in the back of one of the cubicles. I asked the animal control officer about the cat and was told "Oh, that cat's wild and not very nice. Her time's up in a couple of days and, since she's not adoptable, we'll euthanize her." I protested, and said I wanted the cat. The response was, "Oh, you don't want that cat! She's really not very nice!" I replied that yes, I did want that cat, that I'd tamed feral cats before, and even if I couldn't tame this one she'd be welcome to live with us. I was meeting someone at the vet's office to give her the dogs, so I just took the kitty in with me to be tested for FIV/FeLV and to be checked over. While waiting for the vet I opened the cardboard carrier expecting to find one really ticked-off cat; instead, she was cowering, trying to make herself as small as possible. I reached in very slowly and, when there was no hissing or spitting or trying to bite, I tentatively touched her on the back and gently stroked to her tail. When there was no protest I continued to stroke her, eventually working my way up to scratching her ears. When she still didn't protest, I picked her up out of the carrier and cuddled her. By the time the vet came in, she was purring. So much for wild - she was just scared. The vet checked her out - other than fleas she was in pretty good shape, at least 6 months old, and only weighed 5 pounds. She also had a badly scabbed nose and several claws broken off all the way down to the pad (probably from trying to get out of a live trap). The vet commented that she seemed to have a rather large belly, so we scheduled her for spaying 3 days later. When I took her in that morning, a vet tech checked her over and said "Well, we won't be spaying this kitty today." "Why?" I asked. "Because she's a he! We'll neuter him." I cracked up, and couldn't stop laughing about it for several hours afterward. I'd been calling him "my little fairy princess"! I just assumed animal control had correctly sexed him. The vet never checked, and I didn't either. It didn't take long for him to integrate. He had to have been a dumped pet - he enjoys petting too much to be a feral kitty and he "tamed" very quickly. He and 'Mingo have struck up a friendship and 'Mingo takes good care of his new little buddy. Snickers is on the shy side but not fearful - he comes for cuddles, flops over on his back to give me better access to his tummy, grooms my eyebrows, and talks to me in a quiet little voice. He spooks easily - if there's a loud noise or if a dog comes bursting into a room he's gone in a flash - but he's a pretty social little fellow who seems to enjoy the company of other cats. His nose has healed and the fur is almost grown back, his claws are growing back, and the scabs on the tips of his frost-bitten ears have fallen off and I can see new fur growing there. He's really a gorgeous cat. And I really enjoy having a meezer around again.
I was meeting someone at the vet's office to give her the dogs, so I just took the kitty in with me to be tested for FIV/FeLV and to be checked over. While waiting for the vet I opened the cardboard carrier expecting to find one really ticked-off cat; instead, she was cowering, trying to make herself as small as possible. I reached in very slowly and, when there was no hissing or spitting or trying to bite, I tentatively touched her on the back and gently stroked to her tail. When there was no protest I continued to stroke her, eventually working my way up to scratching her ears. When she still didn't protest, I picked her up out of the carrier and cuddled her. By the time the vet came in, she was purring. So much for wild - she was just scared.
The vet checked her out - other than fleas she was in pretty good shape, at least 6 months old, and only weighed 5 pounds. She also had a badly scabbed nose and several claws broken off all the way down to the pad (probably from trying to get out of a live trap). The vet commented that she seemed to have a rather large belly, so we scheduled her for spaying 3 days later. When I took her in that morning, a vet tech checked her over and said "Well, we won't be spaying this kitty today." "Why?" I asked. "Because she's a he! We'll neuter him." I cracked up, and couldn't stop laughing about it for several hours afterward. I'd been calling him "my little fairy princess"! I just assumed animal control had correctly sexed him. The vet never checked, and I didn't either.
It didn't take long for him to integrate. He had to have been a dumped pet - he enjoys petting too much to be a feral kitty and he "tamed" very quickly. He and 'Mingo have struck up a friendship and 'Mingo takes good care of his new little buddy. Snickers is on the shy side but not fearful - he comes for cuddles, flops over on his back to give me better access to his tummy, grooms my eyebrows, and talks to me in a quiet little voice. He spooks easily - if there's a loud noise or if a dog comes bursting into a room he's gone in a flash - but he's a pretty social little fellow who seems to enjoy the company of other cats. His nose has healed and the fur is almost grown back, his claws are growing back, and the scabs on the tips of his frost-bitten ears have fallen off and I can see new fur growing there. He's really a gorgeous cat. And I really enjoy having a meezer around again.
