I have many adventures in feral cat rescue and meeting interesting people is part of the adventure. Now don’t get me wrong; interesting isn’t always so great. Take, for instance, two bozos I’ve had the displeasure of dealing with who work at a local college.
Slinky, an elderly feral our nonprofit has been feeding for 10 years, lives under a bridge at the college. But the head honchos (the bozos) have always prohibited us from offering him shelter. Why, you ask? Because they have their heads up their butts. I’m talkin’ way, way up there.
The two main culprits are a woman administrator whom we’ll call Ms. Ratchet and the college VP, a man we’ll call Dick. You may infer from that name what you will. These two people don’t seem particularly bright to me, which makes me question our educational system. But let’s see what you think…
These supposedly well-educated individuals have the asinine belief that Slinky is transmitting fleas to the staff. No, I’m not high. (But when I heard that, I wished I was.) Never mind that the cat resides 50 yards from their office and rarely emerges from under the bridge. And, might I add, the campus is situated around creek beds, rolling acres of hills and, yes, an abundance of flea-carrying wildlife.
Now hold on to your hats….to hear Ms. Ratchet’s account, Slinky’s fleas practically lie in wait for staff to arrive, whereupon they pounce like Sumo wrestlers with a taste for college employees. Evidently Slinky’s fleas are not particularly discerning.
But I have to hand it to Ms. Ratchet; she was able to say that with a straight face when it took every fiber in my being not to roll on the ground in laughter and ask in disbelief, “Are you flippin’ kidding me?!” Alas, she was not.
Sadly, there’s more. Next to the campus office is a daycare center with the usual accoutrements in the playground, including a sandbox inside an 8-foot chain-linked fence. Ms. Ratchet accused Slinky of defecating in the sandbox even though raccoons regularly forage for remnants of peanut butter sandwiches after the kids leave. Raccoons, one would imagine, are the ones relieving themselves there.
How likely is it that Slinky would travel far from the security of his den under the bridge to deposit his business in a sandbox when he has an abundance of perfectly fine dirt at his disposal? Not very likely. Besides, he’s a big scaredy cat. I’ve rarely seen him venture outside the bridge area.
So now we learn Ms. Ratchet is insisting we stop feeding Slinky and Dick called to complain to Marin Humane. Never mind that Slinky keeps rodents away just by his presence and that he looks forward to, and depends on, the volunteers who bring his meal each day.
Doesn’t matter. They want him gone.
I just know that phone call is coming…Stop feeding...you’re trespassing…we can have you arrested. Yada yada. Same baloney, different day. Here’s some breaking news: There’s no way we’ll let Slinky starve and he’s too old to be relocated elsewhere. Slinky is staying. If necessary, we’ll contact the media.
Something tells me having volunteers from a feral cat rescue sitting in jail for feeding an elderly cat won’t bode well with the public. At least that’s what I’m counting on. But let’s look on the bright side. Should I find myself in the slammer from protecting an animal, I’ll be able to cross it off my bucket list (#12). How exciting is that?!
Like I said, there are many adventures in feral cat rescue.
Thank you for caring for Stinky. Old Mrs. Ratchet and Dick are jerks.
You got that right!
You need to hire a hit man to take care of those two.
I might know of one.
Give me his name and number!