My husband is a hoarder. He saves napkins, and collects hats. It doesn't really have to have a theme, he just saves everything. Last summer this mangy, flea infested cat (bottom picture), showed up at our back door. I begged my husband NOT to feed him. We already have another cat, ok, I'll take credit for her, but we don't need another cat. I am not a cat person. We have two dogs, and one cat. That's enough for this little petting zoo.
Later that afternoon, I started feeling bad. I hadn't really looked at that cat, but it didn't matter at that point. I sat beside my husband and said, "ok, if that cat shows up again tomorrow I don't care if you feed him." I also mentioned to my husband that I was not taking that cat to the vet, that could be someone else problem.
So of course, as luck would have it, he showed up the next day. When I actually saw him, my heart sunk. I called the vet to get an appointment later in the week. We put some food in a dish out in the screen room, and he ate it like he hadn't eaten in days. He sat looking up at me, so I picked him up (when no one could see me, because I don't like cats). He was so thin, I could see every bone in his spine. I called the vet again to see if I could bring him that afternoon.
When we got to the clinic, they asked me what was wrong with him. I said I can give his history starting early this morning. They asked me what I wanted them to do. I asked that they test him to see what diseases he had. I said, kind of an afterthought, "if he's okay, I'll probably take him home with me."
Well, he wasn't fine. He was flea infested and had a horrible bacterial infection. He had chewed off most of the hair on his front legs and across his shoulders, where he could reach. The vet gave him a shot so he would stop digging and chewing at the fleas. We treated him for the fleas and started ten days worth of antibiotics.
The picture above is Noah inside my suitcase. The bottom picture he weighted seven pounds, minus most of his hair, and lots of fleas. The top picture is four months later, no fleas or infection and almost twenty pounds.
I was packing for a short trip, and every time I came back in the room, he was inside my suitcase...again.
He has the sweetest personality, sits on my lap at night while we watch movies. Right now, he's stretched out on the rug in front of the couch, here in my office. He looks pretty happy this morning. He's a beautiful little guy.....I mean, If I liked cats....
I hate cats. Your story reminds me of the black kitten that my brother-in-law dropped off at my parents' house as a joke because he knew my mother didn't like cats. When my younger twin brothers, about eight at the time, begged me with, "can we keep him?" I told them that they would have to ask their mother because I didn't live there and didn't want to make that decision. She took the kitten in, into the house, and a series of cats afterward. The joke was on my brother-in-law.
As I ate lunch I watched my neighbors' black cat on my fence eyeing the birds in the tree. Since last summer this little, well fed and taken care of, cat has taken over my backyard as his/her realm. I'm glad because I don't have to feed him/her and don't have any cat hair or smelly kitty litter to worry about in the house.
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My husband is a hoarder. He saves napkins, and collects hats. It doesn't really have to have a theme, he just saves everything. Last summer this mangy, flea infested cat (bottom picture), showed up at our back door. I begged my husband NOT to feed him. We already have another cat, ok, I'll take credit for her, but we don't need another cat. I am not a cat person. We have two dogs, and one cat. That's enough for this little petting zoo.
