This May Be a Dumb Idea…or, the Saga of the Cat (Part 1)

There’s a situation  here that’s gradually working its way up to “saga” status, and as there’s not much else in my running world to blog about (as marathon training is not so exciting and I’m too busy to think up an imaginative post) I’ve decided to share. What’s the good ol’ blogosphere for if not the mass sharing of various sagas? Sagas? That doesn’t look right. What’s the plural of saga?

Not important. As many of you already know (or can probably guess from the fact that my “About Me” devotes a sentence to my cats), I am a cat person. I like dogs, and other animals too for that matter, but nothing tugs at my heart quite like a cat. I currently own two cats, which husband says is the limit. He feels that having more animals than people in a household is problematic. He’s also concerned about increasing the litter box usage and keeping the relative peace of our house unbroken by catfights. All valid points, and I know that our girls are past the age of welcoming additional felines into their mix. Just in case you were curious, the girls are Sassafras and Callawassie. We call them Sassy and Cally, and just in case you’re REALLY curious here’s some pictures:

Sassy is the elder, larger, and sassier feline.

Sassy is the elder, larger, and sassier feline.

 

While Cally is the smaller, meeker, and sweeter (but still silly) of the two.

While Cally is the smaller, meeker, and sweeter of the two.

So I really, really, really have no intention of adding a third.

But see, there’s this cat. He lives in a culvert beside the squishy trail, and I’ve seen him before. I figured he was feral because every time I spotted him he’d run away. On Monday afternoon, however, Running Buddy and I were in the middle of an easy 3-miler when I heard a “meow” from the bushes. I’m not even sure RB heard it, but being the closet crazy cat lady that I am, I had to turn around and check it out. “Kitty?” “Meow!” And out comes this little black and white cat, who runs right up to me. I start talking to him in that embarrassing “hey, you know the animal doesn’t understand you, right?” fashion (RB didn’t laugh at me…she’s a true friend) and before I know it he’s rubbing against my legs and begging to be petted. So I do, because I’m a pushover. RB was all for me taking him home then and there, but I explained to her that you don’t just pick up a cat and carry him half a mile and set him in a car and expect to escape unscathed.

So we left him there, and it just about broke my heart. He was obviously someone’s pet, to be interested in attention rather than food. And even though this is South Carolina, it’s still the dead of winter. So now I have a project. I go home and explain to Scott that if I find the little cat again, I’m catching  him and bringing him home to foster him. He’s……….excited……….or at least willing to go along with me after I explain that my intention isn’t to keep the cat. I just can’t leave him to the elements and wild animals and potentially mean people.

So that’s the plan. And then things get crazy and suddenly it’s Wednesday (another RB running day) and I still haven’t put the cat carrier into the car. Lazy girl! As RB, ME and I start our fartlek, I think, “if I see the little cat again, maybe that’s a sign that I’m supposed to help him.” We’re in the middle of a rest interval, with me rambling on about nothing as usual, when out from the bushes comes the cat. Oh, boy. Now, I bet this little guy does this to every passerby, but I’m hooked. “Do you think he heard me?” says the total sap. Sure, RB assures  me. He loves you. So I pet the little cat and I’m redetermined—this cat will be rescued.

But then I drive home. I start having doubts…What if I can’t catch him? What if he won’t use the litterbox? What if I get him in the house and he screams all night and keeps Scott up? What if he has feline leukemia and I don’t properly quarantine him and the girls catch it? What if he’s actually someone’s cat and they just let him play outside, which I hate but is actually none of my business? Whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif????

Ack. So annoying. But how about this one…what if there’s a sweet little cat who’s been abandoned for whatever possibly legitimate but still terrible reason, and he dies because even though people see him every single day no one ever stops to help? There’s a cat carrier and a couple of cans of irresistable cat food in my car today. I hope this is the right thing to do.

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One response

  1. I’m a cat person too. I have four. I would probably save him and find him a home. My hubby (boyfriend at the time) and I went to the movies at Cherrydale which is next to the GVL county animal shelter. We saw a cat very very starved. I broke down in tears and wouldn’t go into the movies until that cat had something to eat. We got one of the local restaurants to give us some hot dog meat. I was determined if we came out of the movies and that cat was still there that it was coming home with me. He would have been #5. We never found him but everytime I see a feral cat I’m on a mission to save him/her.

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