The joys and sorrows of being an animal activist, supporter and general compassionate Being, make for what in the "real" world could be construed as Mood Swings. The incredible emotional roller coaster of it all would leave us gasping for a free moment to breathe, but of course for rescuers, there is never that moment.
About 26 years ago, when I first returned to Hell's Kitchen, it was after a long absence. The neighborhood was rather run-down and, in its own way, quite likable. But one didn't walk around at night very casually, so when returning from Lincoln Center one dark, rainy night, I found myself suddenly thrust into the next chapter of my life.
In those days, you walked in a determined way, eyes straight ahead, no eye contact, the usual drill. And lo! a cat jumped right into my arms and said "Take me Home with You." I looked around, nobody there, so I continued walking, with her (I named her Polly) and at each corner, I'd say, "well, you can turn around and go home, just let me know." And Polly just stayed put.
Once home, I put her in a room separate from my guys (lovely mushes with us, vicious, vindictive and violent with strays) and we watched tv together, had our meals together and all was well. BUT, being the good citizen I am and the naive, totally ingenuous, debutante cat-rescuer I then was, I felt obliged to post up signs, tracing my steps from the night before.
Sure enough, I began getting calls, all pointing to a cat missing from a local shop run by a man we'll call Ari. Ari wanted his cat back, and although my heart told me that had he cared for Polly better, she wouldn't have escaped into my arms (and home), I let him come to see her and when she didn't mind going back to him, let him take her back. He didn't offer to reimburse me for anything I'd done for her, nor thank me for looking after her. He promised to have her spayed and not keep her locked in the dark back room where she'd been.
I foolishly gave her back to him and went in frequently to check on her. She was in the back room again, wasn't spayed, although I offered to pay for it and arrange for a nice vet to check her. After a few weeks of this futile effort, I went in one day only to be told that they'd given her to a fish & chips shop somewhere else because they were fed up with me pestering them.
Needless to say, I have felt guilty about this for these past 25 years and even named a future rescue cat: Polly, I have learned not to post up FOUND signs but to look for LOST CAT signs, to use the internet to help find owners, and not to return some animals to people who didn't look after them in the first place. I've learned a lot since that fateful experience, and I now rescue, place and agonize over scores of cats each year.
With the climate changes affecting "kitten and puppy season" and now, the economic reversals, leading to lost homes, jobs etc., the situation is obviously much much worse. So our job is increasingly difficult, which is why we have set up the non-profit rescue and information service,
All Sentient Beings, Inc. We hope to better inform the public on Pet Trusts, Healthful, Holistic Pet Care and more. As well as continuing our ongoing battle with the numbers of abandoned animals.
Where you can help, would be to send in your own stories on this blog, we're always interested in how you found (or lost) your animal, what you're doing about the many unwanted animals in your neck of the woods and how some of these innocent, sweet (sometimes) and helpless creatures have changed your life. Welcome to that Roller-Coaster of All Things Feline!
Post Script: the second Polly, who died in 2005, made it into the recently-published book, "The Ultimate Cat Lover," the Best experts' Advice for a Happy, Healthy Cat ...by Marty Becker and others. My story is "The Cat from Hell's Kitchen."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I've read this 3 times now and the impact is the same each time. Thank God we have people who really care for our furry friends.
Denis
Western Australia
First let me say, when I read this I was very touched, as I always am, when I find someone who cares about our precious furry friends as much as I do. As far as Polly’s owner goes, why on earth would this man even bother to claim Polly if it was so easy for him to just give her away? I am very confused! Gregg’s story reminds me of an experience I had when I rescued a kitten whom I later named, Ink Spot.
I came upon Ink Spot as I was coming back from my local Supermarket. I was carrying way too many bags and was barely making it. Suddenly, this small skinny black kitten darted out into the middle of the sidewalk. I could quickly see why. There was a newspaper in that spot and he could hardly wait to urinate on it. He looked so happy to finally have an appropriate place to do his business. I felt so bad because it occurred to me that he probably didn’t have too many appropriate places to do much of anything on. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that aside from the fact that he was skin and bones, he also had a big chunk of fur missing on his back. For several blocks, he continued to follow me and I continued to drag my heavy bags.
When I got to the street, I realized I had a problem, he was going to follow me. I couldn’t bare to let him cross the street. So, I put my bags down to rest for a minute, waited for a red light, picked up Ink Spot with one hand, gathered the heavy grocery bags in the other, and ran across the street as fast as I could. Actually, I’m sad to say, he was so light he hardly added any extra weight at all. I took him home, gave him several flea baths, finally found the only thing he would eat [boiled chicken], and nursed him back to health for the next month.
After a month went by and having no success finding him a home, I went into a local pet store and inquired as to whether or not they knew of anyone who could help Ink Spot. They kindly volunteered to take him themselves. They said that they were no-kill and that they would neuter him and find him a home. After asking many many questions, I entrusted them with Ink Spot.
It was so difficult to part with him and each day I would bring him boiled chicken so he wouldn’t feel I abandoned him chicken and all. Then one day during a conversation with one of the employees, I mentioned how special Ink Spot was because of his cute little extra toes that made his paws look like mittens [he was a Polydactyl cat]. For me this was a big selling point. The man looked at me strange and said “oh yeah, really, I didn’t notice that.”
The next day, I went to the pet store with the container of boiled chicken in my hands, and headed for Ink Spot. No Ink Spot. When I inquired to his whereabouts, I was told matter-of-factly “Oh yeah he was adopted.” I then asked many questions to which I received dismissive looks and vague answers. No one could look me in the eyes. I remember my hands turned so cold that the container of boiled chicken suddenly felt hot in my hands. I was crushed!
I blamed myself for mentioning his adorable god-given toes and regretted the fact that I trusted in them just because they said they were trustworthy. I can’t stress enough…information, information, information! Utilize the superhighway to the fullest, please don’t entrust the life of a furry loved one without first exploring ALL of your options.
Post a Comment