Happy National Feral Cat Day!

Happy National Feral Cat Day!

Did you even know there was such a thing? I didn't, until this year when I suddenly became involved with the plight of the feral cat. I didn't ask for three strays to show up on my front porch one day last March, but once they were there, my little ol' heart couldn't turn them away. These three cuties were still young and were much friendlier than a typical stray cat, but they were clearly the product of an unchecked neighborhood cat community that would continue to multiply unless someone stepped in to do something. That someone turned out to be me.

Did you know that feral cats who have already been fixed can
be identified by their ear tip, like this cutie I met in Virginia?

Thus began my trip down the rabbit hole. I wanted to get these three little squirts, whom I named The Lull Street Stray Cats, spayed and neutered so that they wouldn't multiply. My original intent was to release them back into the neighborhood. I did quite a bit of research and discovered that Trap/Neuter/Return programs, or TNR, have proven to be the most successful in managing feral cat populations. The most recent statistics provided by the American Humane Association show that in the United States, over 70% of cats turned into shelters are euthanized. Instead of turning these cats into animal control where they would most likely die, I found an organization called FixNation here in Los Angeles that provides free spay/neuter/vaccinations to homeless strays and feral cats in the region, as part of their TNR program. What they're doing for homeless cats in Los Angeles is truly amazing. They have sterilized over 100,000 cats and are on the front lines of helping to reduce and control the homeless cat population in the area, and educating the public on how to treat these cat colonies humanely.

I ain't gonna lie to you, suddenly finding myself responsible for these three little lives was a little overwhelming. It's not as simple as putting the cats in a box and whisking them off for their appointments. You have to take a class on how to trap them correctly, there's paperwork to fill out, there are decisions to be made and it is time-consuming. On top of that, I soon began to think that The Lull Street Stray Cats were just too friendly to condemn to a life on the streets. I realized that they were so well-socialized they deserved to have homes. Luckily, FixNation also provides low-cost spay/neuter/vaccinations as well as free microchips for those cats who will ultimately find homes. Considering the average cost of fixing one cat can range between $60-$200, I was grateful that I found a place that caters to bleeding hearts like mine and offers services that cost well below what a private vet would charge. In addition, I discovered that the Los Angeles Department of Animal Services offers free $30 vouchers to help with the cost of sterilizing a pet. They are given out first-come, first-served at several local shelters, and there are no income restrictions to qualify.

Even with all these financial incentives, it was still going to be a bit daunting to pay for all this, so I decided to run a crowd-funding campaign on IndieGoGo. I am lucky to have wonderful friends with generous hearts, and through donations was able to pay for all the services the kitties needed.

The Lull Street Stray Cats had their visit to FixNation and took up residence in my house for about a month until I could find them all homes (that's a story for another day). I'm happy to say that one of the little furry nuggets wiggled his way into our hearts and has found his forever home with us. His name is Murray, and quite frankly we couldn't imagine life without him now.

There are still feral cats in my neighborhood that need to be spayed and neutered, and I am committing myself to the task of taking them to FixNation and releasing them back into the neighborhood. It seems the best way to keep the neighborhood cat population low and to give these cats a fighting chance at a decent life.

I hope you'll consider being an ally for stray cats in your neighborhood. If you'd like more information about how to care for feral cats in your neck of the woods, please visit Alley Cat Allies.

I'm Your Venus...

I've really been wanting a cat.

Mars - the best kitty blanket.

You see, my little stinker, Mars, passed away almost exactly one year ago.  He was both cute and a terror.  He was my first cat.  He was with me for 14 years.  He taught me alot about cats.  He saw me through grad school, a divorce, a move to Jersey City, several boyfriends, a move to Los Angeles , and basically was there while I turned into a human adult.  He rolled with the punches.  He was really good at just being a cat.

saying goodbye to Mars...

Mars got really sick at the end, and the last few months with him were wonderful...bittersweet, but wonderful.  He had to be put to sleep on the closing night of a show I was in - The Vagina Monologues.  It was a pretty terrible day saying goodbye to this cat, this creature that had become my friend and seen me through a multitude of major life changes, and leave all of that behind to go onstage.  But, the show must go on.  And go on it does.





Fast forward one year.

I'm in The Vagina Monologues again.  I'm experiencing major deja-vu.  And I'm feeling this extraordinary need to have something in my life to love. Frankly, 2012 has not been such a great year so far and I need a little sunshine. I'm thinking it's about time to have a cat in my life again.  Adam - who can best be described as "cat tolerant" - has finally acquiesced on the notion of getting a new feline friend.  So I immediately go on the hunt.  "This time", I think, "this time I will do it right".  I will take my time.  I'll define what I'm looking for.  I'll find the cat that will fit best into my family life.  And, most of all, I'll trust my gut. I go to many adoption days.  I meet lots of cats. I pet them.  I hold them.  I talk to them.  I look online.  I read about different breeds.  There are so many lovely cats - but none that call out to me.  I start to worry that I'm making a big mistake, I'm moving too fast, I'm jumping into something that I don't really have time for, have room for in my life.  I'm starting to obsess that I'm obsessing about cats!  I don't want to be the cat lady!  I'm going to be 37 in a month, it's a quick and slippery slope...

I wait until The Vagina Monologues closes.  I decide to go to the Super Pet Adoption event at the La Brea Tar Pits.  I know I want a rescue cat.  And I figure, this event will decide for me.  There will be so many cats there, if I don't find the right one there then I won't find it anywhere.  I go by myself, on the last day, during the last hour of the event.  I walk into the cat adoption tent.  People are everywhere, there are stacks and stacks of cages with dozens of cats from dozens of shelters and rescue groups and it is overwhelming.  My nose starts to run uncontrollably.  I start to worry I've developed an allergy and it would be wrong to bring a cat home.  I walk up to the first row of cages and am immediately met by a very helpful albeit aggressive woman who wants to know exactly what I'm looking for in a cat and which cats in her group will be a fit for me.  She volunteers at the Downey shelter.  I meet several really great, sweet cats.  I learn that all the cats from Downey are scheduled to be euthanized the next day. I didn't know I was going to get the hard sell here, that my heart would be tugged at with such force.  But I go with my original plan - I'm going to look at all the cats, and see if there is one that seems like the right one to bring home.  I walk around some more.  Some cats are from shelters, some are from rescues and live with a foster family.  All the cats need a new home, some more desperately than others.  So many cats! 

I walk by a row of cats from the Castaic shelter.  And I'm stopped in my tracks by this face:

I'm struck by how much this cat reminds me of Mars.  This cat has all the things I loved about the way he looked - black and white, long hair, pretty face - and a black nose to boot!  So I walk over to get a closer look.  This is Bubbles (ugh, awful name) and a girl kitty (was really hoping for a boy).  But I just stand there for a few moments and look at her.  A very nice volunteer named Bridget comes over to give me the low-down on Bubbles and answer my questions:  a climber?  don't know, talkative? not really, good with other cats/dogs? not sure.  Bubbles has been in the shelter for a month as an owner surrender, and as they could remember it was because the owner had passed away.  She had come in with another cat who was adopted right away.  Bubbles was not particularly responsive to me, but something kept me standing there.  I pet her, and she didn't bite or hiss.  I brushed her with the same result, didn't seem to bother her.  Taking her to the meet & greet was out of the question as she did not do well in a carrier on the car ride there.  So no holding her.  Bubbles kind of gave me the cold shoulder.  Bridget said she thought Bubbles was depressed.  She said "Bubbles, perk up!  You're blowing it!".  But by that time I had made up my mind.  This was my cat.  I couldn't explain it rationally, but my gut said this was my cat.  I was nervous, scared I was making a terrible, rash decision, but before my head knew what had happened my mouth had said "I'll take her".  Some paperwork was filled out, some cash exchanged, and I was on my way with a box that had a cat inside.

Holy crap, I have a cat!

The car ride home was an unhappy one for the now-unnamed cat (Bubbles had to go) and poop was involved (hers, not mine).  But we made it home, and I brought the cat into the bathroom to slowly introduce her to the house.  That lasted about 2.5 seconds.  She wanted out, so I let her.  She walked around the whole house, checking it all out.  She didn't hide.  She even played with the feather toys that Mars had always loved.  Adam came home, and met the new addition.  She didn't run away, she didn't hiss...  All seemed good.  That night she decided she wanted to sleep under the bed, which given the circumstances seemed like a perfectly good idea.

At 5:30 the next morning I woke up to the sounds of the cat emerging from under the bed.  She stretched, shook off her sleepiness and immediately jumped into bed with us.  She turned on the purr machine, and pranced around the bed in a sort of blissed-out, kitty-paws, trance.  She snuggled up between Adam and I, and I thought before Adam kicks us out I'm going to take our new friend into the living room to get to know her.  I'd been thinking about names, taking suggestions from friends, and decided to try them out on her to see what she thought.  I sat on the couch and called "Venus!" and she stopped in her tracks, looked sharply at me and literally ran and jumped into my lap.  "Well, I guess we know what your name is".

watching the birds...

 It's been a week now, and Venus has claimed us.  She is appropriately named.  Whereas Mars was a fighter, she is a lover.  She is incredibly affectionate, and has even won Adam over.  She's got her spots in the house she likes, typically in the windows peering out at the birds. She has behaved perfectly, and has found her voice - she makes these cute, funny little squirrel sounds.  And she purrs constantly.

on my desk, helping me work

She matches my boots (box).

I really don't want to be the cat lady, but I think it's a role I'm meant to play.  I'm completely smitten with this cat.  I don't think I could have chosen a better match.  She seems really happy to be here, and I am absolutely delighted to have her.  Even Adam has taken a shine to her.  I keep catching him petting her and talking to her...so unlike he was with Mars!

This cat has my heart in her paw, and I'm so glad to have been able to give her a new, loving home!

Go Happy!
Amy

That's Amore!

I'm a bit of a girl when it comes to my favorite movie.  When I was a kid, I desperately wanted to be both Italian and a New Yorker, so it's no wonder that I had seen Moonstruck over 30 times by the time I finished high school.  Oh, how I wanted to be Cher, and have big, jet black hair, and wear a pretty dress and go to the opera with a hot, passionate guy.  Even if he did have a wooden hand, I wouldn't care.  He would touch me with that wooden hand and I would go crazy, I tell you.   "Hollow me out so there’s nothing left but the skin over my bones!" I would cry.  Then I would have a good, stiff drink and cook him a steak.  And two days later we would be engaged.  It would be awesome.  This is what I had come to expect from love.

Oh, how wrong I was.

I have learned over the last few months a different meaning of love.  See, I have this cat, his name is Mars.  Some of you may have met him.  He is a curmudgeon.  His typical mode of communication is the persistent, loud meow or the more menacing hiss.  He'll stand at your feet, meowing insistently for attention, and the moment you bend down to pet him he'll bite your hand.  He acts like he doesn't want you around, but if you go out of town for a few days he'll pee on your bed.  Just ask any of my former roommates.  I'm surprised some of them still speak to me.

Well, Mars is almost 14 now (he'll be 14 on tax day, how fitting).  And now, not only is he a curmudgeon - he's a stinky, pooping, peeing, barfing curmudgeon.  If it is foul-smelling, it has come out of him.  In copious amounts.  In my living room. 

Until lately.  You see, Mars has been constipated for the last few days.  And boy, is he not happy about it.  And he has let me know it.  He meowed nonstop for an entire day, and walked around the living room straining, just trying to get that poop out.  So I did some research online.  And I discovered that, just like people, you can give a cat an enema.

Oh yes, you read that right.

So I went to Walgreens at 2am to get the proper supplies (and some Ben and Jerry's for me, because fuck it, if I was giving the cat an enema, I deserved some fucking ice cream afterwards).  I did all the research, prepared the feline enema solution, watched the online how-to videos, and steeled myself for what was about to happen.  I scooped Mars up, plopped him in the tub, and proceeded to, well, try to get him to show me his ass.  Ha!  He knew what was up, he had my number.  And as much as I tried, he was just too squirmy.  I needed reinforcements.

This is where Adam comes in.  The next day, we repeated the same scenario, this time with Adam holding Mars and me in the tub with him.  In went the enema, and in a few moments....out came some truly vile-smelling things that I won't horrify you with the details.  Needless to say, Mars was sequestered in the bathroom for a few hours while he....worked it all out.  By the time it was over, my entire apartment smelled like the inside of a cat, and he desperately  needed a bath.

What's the moral of this story?  Well, to me, it's that love isn't about sex with hot guys and going to the opera.  Love is figuring out how to work out all the shit - figuratively and literally.  Love is giving someone an enema and cuddling with them on the couch later.

This afternoon, Mars and I watched Moonstruck, and I felt the love.

Go Happy!
Amy

Reality? Check.

A few observations since beginning my "funemployment":

1.  There are alot of people at the gym at 10:30am.  Who are these people?  What do they do?  Are they unemployed like me?  Do they have night jobs?  Are they trust fund babies? (Probably no on that last one - I go to Bally's, a distinctly low-budget gym).  Having been holed up in a windowless cubicle from 9am - 7pm for the last three years, I'm amazed that there are people out and about during the day.  Riding bikes.  Shopping.  Having coffee.  Hell, there is more traffic on Santa Moncia Blvd. at noon than at 9am.  How is this possible?  And why has it taken me so long to join this terrifically sunshiney world? 

2.  In the 13 years that I have had my cat, I often find hairballs at least once or twice a week.  I have never actually witnessed him doing it, however.  No longer.  Now that I'm home during the day, I got to see it first hand.  It's pretty impressive.  One second - nothing there.  Next second - giant sticky, smelly mess on the floor.  Like magic.  Like it came through a wormhole.  Wow. 

3.  I have the ability to waste an enormous amount of time on Facebook.  Thank you, ny friends, for being  endlessly fascinating.

4.  Daytime TV is depressing.  I'm sorry Rachel Ray, but I find you kind of grating.  And don't even get me started on Oprah or Dr. Phil.  I'd rather gouge out my eye with a rusty spike.

5.  When I don't know what to do, or I am avoiding doing what I should be doing, I clean.  My apartment is going to be fucking spotless within the week.

6.  If I don't get out of my apartment regularly, I'm going to gain 20 pounds in a matter of days.  Food is my elixir for boredom and stress.  And the yogurt place across the street is constantly calling my name.

Still trying to sort this new reality out, but I'm definitely in it.

Go Happy,
Amy