Strays and Snowstorms
After a snowstorm, earlier this year, I began clearing my driveway.
Amid the scrapings of shovels along the street, I heard a plaintive
"Meow." Then another. My "Kitty in trouble" radar went up, and I
searched for the source.
Several houses down, a large, black and white cat peered from atop a
garage roof. A neighbour and I rescued the cat, set it on the ground,
and wondered how the big guy got up there in the first place.
Then the cat followed me home.
I should have continued shoveling, but instead, I let the poor thing
in the house where he proceeded to eat and make himself completely at
home. Only problem was, I already had a cat and she was terrified of
the newcomer.
The male cat (alternately named Buddy and Benjamin), was extremely
friendly, affectionate and intelligent. And he wanted to be boss.
After five days, a visit to the vet, 50 unanswered "Found Cat" notices
around town, multiple sprayings inside my house, and an incredible
amount of stress in my own cat, I took Buddy/Benjamin to the OSPCA
(The Ontario Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals).
The shelter near my home has great facilities--large rooms,
comfortable bedding, clean litters, windows, and lots of cat toys.
Despite that, I cried as I filled out the forms and paid the Society
to find this wonderful cat a new home. I promised myself that if he
wasn't adopted within the month, I'd buy him back and live with the
consequences.
During the following week, my daughter and I visited him, and he
seemed to have settled in with the other cats quite well. I watched
his progress on the OSPCA website (where they had named him "Eddie"
for some reason), and by week two, he'd been adopted.
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