Compassion: A Curse and a Blessing

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 looney. 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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To the Rescue

What I’m about to tell you is just between us. Loose lips not only sink ships, they can also land me in the slammer. The problem with that? I doubt jail caters to vegetarians and I’m guessing their sleeping arrangements aren’t as comfy as my king size Sleep Number bed with pillow-top padding.

Jail food

Since you’re finished reading about our dog rescue on Mare Island, I figure this is a good time to tell you about another canine rescue I was part of. Some might call it a dognapping and they wouldn’t be incorrect. But I prefer to label it as a life or death rescue intervention.

Here’s what happened: One of my feral cat caretakers (who we’ll refer to as Shannon) was told by her daughter (let’s call her Kelly) about a dog she discovered living out of state locked in a cage in a basement with no food or water. Pretty cruel, huh? The dog was horribly malnourished and basically ignored by her so-called guardian, a drug addict who we’ll call The Neglector.

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Call Me Stupid

Now that the pup pursuit is over, Gracie and Brownie are living the good life with Toni.

Brownie and Gracie

Brownie and Gracie recuperating at Toni’s

Toni holding Brownie

Toni with Brownie

So this is a good time to tell you the stupid things I did while trying to trap Gracie. Toni and Loretta were unavailable that particular night so I decided to go out alone. That was my first stupid move.stupid

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Holy Crap: The Final Chapter

As promised, this is the last Holy Crap posting. Here’s how it ended:

Gracie proved to be nearly impossible to trap. Worried she’d inevitably be hit by a car (like Brownie), we brainstormed for a solution when I remembered seeing a discarded portable basketball system on the side of a secluded dirt road. view of basketball hoop 2

We rolled it down to where Gracie eats, cut up licorice plants, then placed a 4’ round net under the hoop. After tying ropes to the edges of the net and connecting them with a carabiner, we looped another cord through that and over the hoop. We covered the net in plantings, then practiced “trapping” a large rock. It worked beautifully, so we put food in the middle.basketball set up Continue reading

Holy Crap, Part 4

When I left you last, we’d finally caught Brownie. But little Gracie is another story. That gal’s quite the survivor — smart and stubborn, refusing to enter any type of trap.

I disguised our remote control drop trap with clippings from my garden…no luck.drop trap with leaves

I made a taller prop to hold up another drop trap for her easy access…no go.

We tried using nets, walk-in traps and fat-cat traps. We followed on foot and by car hoping she’d tire so we could net her…still nothing.me with net2

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