Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Six down, four to go...


I couldn't catch the silver-grey tabby.  It didn't follow the cleverly laid trail of kitten treats to its trapped siblings in the cat cage... in the garage.  The mother cat showed up.  Along with the father/brother/uncle cat.  I couldn't turn in the captured siblings to the animal shelter.  I just couldn't.  All I could think was that I'd abducted these two completely innocent kittens and if I were to take them to animal jail (where they might possibly be put to sleep, because who wants a feral kitten?)  the mother cat and father/brother/uncle cat might well be emotionally scarred forever with the loss of the two kittens - who had nothing to do with my blood loss - while the silver-grey demon kitten was out running free.  The silver-grey kitten in turn would then have a complex about being the cause of its siblings' demise.

I opened the cage.  They bolted.  Guilt covering my very DNA, I put down a can of cat food.  The mother cat and father/brother/uncle cat came and ate some food while watching me - prepared, I think, to finish what their child/sibling/nephew had started yesterday. I gave them space.

They give you rabies shots in your large muscle groups.  In my case 1 in my bicep, 3 in my right thigh and 2 in my left thigh.  I have been advised that these puncture points could become sore.

Now David thinks that this might stop a person from approaching stray animals.  David... is wrong.  I may well re-approach the original silver-grey tabby in the hopes that we can salvage our blossoming relationship.  Kittens are pretty much crack to me.  I may have to be restrained if this family of feral felines continues to live near our home.  Yep, I just got 6 painful shots (completely deserved) for being too impetuous in my approach of stray cats.  I shall now be more stealthy.   Lesson learned.

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