Compassion: A Curse and a Blessing

Okay, so you probably noticed my last post ran for two weeks. That’s because I was in France with my besties, cruising for two glorious weeks along the Seine River from Paris to Normandy, which I’ll be blogging about. But until then, here’s a rerun from 2022. I hope you enjoy it…

I believe I have an overactive compassion gene. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that’s a particularly bad trait, depending on how you look at it. For one thing, it means I’m not a psychopath since they tend not to have an ounce of compassion, let alone a conscience. So yay for me!

The reason I even brought this up is because I’m in animal rescue, specifically cats. Not that I don’t rescue other creatures. I’m what you would call an equal opportunity savior. Wait. That sounds pompous. Let me rephrase that. How about equal opportunity rescuer? Yeah, that’s better.

Now, you’re going to think I’m a bit loony. And you wouldn’t be far off, especially when I tell you what I did the other day…So I’m having lunch at home when I reach for my glass of water and notice a fly inside, swimming frantically in circles. I’m not entirely certain flies swim but whatever it was doing, it looked frantic.

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Oh, Rats!

Well, this is a bit embarrassing.

I have rats. As in the kind that are disgusting, not the cute domestic rats my associate Donna has as pets. Her rats actually have personalities, like you and me. They don’t talk and they can’t shop or go to a movie with you but overall they’re pretty entertaining.

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Izzy and Simon

I don’t know why we find domestic rats cuter than sewer rats, which are considered vermin, but there you go. My guess is the moniker, sewer, doesn’t enhance their image. But the thought of vermin taking up residence in my walls gives me the Creeps with a capital C. Unfortunately, I’ve had the Creeps a lot lately.

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A not-so-cute sewer rat
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How I was Rescued by Seven Kittens

So Wednesday morning I’m on the freeway bringing kittens to get spayed and neutered at a local veterinary clinic. Naturally, I’m late because the freeway is a parking lot. In the back of my SUV, seven of the 11 kittens we rescued from Kern County are serenading me with a chorus of meows.

What lucky kitties. Our feral cat rescue rarely deals with domestics but when we learned these were scheduled to be euthanized for lack of adopters, we decided to help. And that’s how I found myself on the freeway Wednesday morning.

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Welcome Home, OC

I’ve been on a cat kick these days. Not exactly a surprise since they occupy a good part of my day. But each story is unique and in this tale, the life of OC (Orange Cat) is exactly that. I promise next week my post won’t include anything containing fur or with four legs.

Many years ago, OC showed up in a small colony of ferals living behind a movie theater. We trapped him, scanned his microchip, and returned him to his registered guardian who had 20-something ferals. Seems OC isn’t a social butterfly, so he hightailed it back to his preferred stomping grounds.

Over the years, our dedicated group of volunteers fed the cats their daily meal. As time passed and colony cats died, OC was like the Energizer Bunny who just keeps on going. So eventually, he lived out there alone.

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The Doggie Heist

As you may know, I’d do just about anything to help a neglected or abused animal, even if it means getting arrested. In fact, it’s #12 on my bucket list. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not looking forward to it, but it’s probably inevitable. Fair warning: this post isn’t humorous but it has a happy ending.

Being in feral cat rescue for 20 years, I’ve had my life threatened, been chased, harassed, flipped off, even had our equipment destroyed and stolen. Fun stuff. But I’m not intimidated, nor are my cohorts. We’re fearless (which might not be smart) because when an animal is being abused or neglected, we take action.

In our area, Animal Control can’t remove a pet who has food, shelter, water, and who seems to be in good physical condition. So when they were called to check on this dog (let’s call her Sadie), she appeared to be okay. But when her physical condition deteriorated, our phone rang. The caller was worried Animal Control might have to return the dog. But us? Not a chance. There was only one solution:

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