SoCS: Dog Collars, Feral Cats, and Classic Trek

Today’s prompt: “collar.” Use it as a verb, a noun, or metaphorically. Bonus points for using it in all three ways! Enjoy!

Add a couple letters to collar and you get collards. Collards get better after they get cold in the ground. I wonder if it’s too late to plant them. They do take up a lot of room. I like them raw in salad or steamed lightly.

Before I started adding letters to collar, I thought about the dog collars handing in what used to be the dog room. We have no more dogs now. They’ve all crossed over the rainbow bridge. But their collars, at least three of them, still hand in the dog room with tags and leashes attached.

Dogs probably would prefer not to wear collars to bed. I used to take them off when we were in for the night. But if you only get out the collars when it’s time for outside or walks, then collars would be very good things!

The dog room might turn into a cat room if I bring home Mama Cat from the church. She’s been there for over 4 years and will go crazy if/when I trap her, but she misses her daughter Gray who is still missing. I worry about Mama who has become less feral in her loneliness. I bet she would really hate a collar. It’s going to be a process, taming this feral mama, but we’re making progress. I might trap her and bring her home at the end of September or early October when I’ll be home for a while. She will probably hate the smell of the dog room. But I hope she will grow to like being here. I’m getting ahead of myself. Time will tell.

I haven’t given up on Gray. Must think positive thoughts that she is safe and loved, somewhere out there. When I get depressed about Gray or politics, Star Trek helps. I believe there’s a Star Trek episode about collars.

That James Kirk. A shock collar won’t stop him from kissing a woman. Or knocking her gently on the chin so that she falls into his arms unconscious. He could’ve talked her into helping him….. But it all worked out. And nobody really got hurt.

I don’t think I would ever use a shock collar on a dog without testing it on myself. Since I wouldn’t want to test it on myself, I wouldn’t use it on a dog.

Remove your collars! Run free!

…

For more Streams of Consciousness, visit our host, Linda G. Hill at:

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Sept. 12/2020

Here are the rules:

1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.

2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence – one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry – it doesn’t matter. Just let the words carry you along until you’re ready to stop.

3. I will post the prompt here on my blog every Friday, along with a reminder for you to join in. The prompt will be one random thing, but it will not be a subject. For instance, I will not say “Write about dogs”; the prompt will be more like, “Make your first sentence a question,” “Begin with the word ‘The,’” or will simply be a single word to get you started.

4. Ping back! It’s important, so that I and other people can come and read your post! For example, in your post you can write “This post is part of SoCS:” and then copy and paste the URL found in your address bar at the top of this post into yours.  Your link will show up in my comments for everyone to see. The most recent pingbacks will be found at the top. NOTE: Pingbacks only work from WordPress sites. If you’re self-hosted or are participating from another host, such as Blogger, please leave a link to your post in the comments below.

5. Read at least one other person’s blog who has linked back their post. Even better, read all of them! If you’re the first person to link back, you can check back later or go to the previous week by following my category, “Stream of Consciousness Saturday,” which you’ll find below the “Like” button on my post.

6. Copy and paste the rules (if you’d like to) in your post. The more people who join in, the more new bloggers you’ll meet and the bigger your community will get!

7. As a suggestion, tag your post “SoCS” and/or “#SoCS” for more exposure and more views.

8. Have fun!

Feral Cats, Part 3

In Feral Cat Adventures Part 2, I discovered Mama Cat was pregnant again, just as I was getting her 6 month old kittens spayed. Part 3 became a poem. I didn’t mean for it to be so sad, but that’s how I felt about Mama Cat, though she is doing okay now. The kittens are making progress, and we might still have a happy ending.

Wild Mama

Who knows how many kittens came in that first litter.

Two remained to be semi-tamed.

But you, you wild thing,

You just did what came naturally.

You must have been off catching mice

While I was making friends

With your two survivors.

You must have been out doing wild things

With the tom cat behind the churchyard.

I don’t blame you, girl.

You just did what comes naturally.

And I was just trying to help

Control the population

So it wouldn’t become a colony.

Did I try to help too much?

Should I have let you have your second litter

Where you felt safe,

Even though the storm was coming

And the tom might have devoured them.

I took advantage of your hunger

Just trying to help,

And trapped you in the box

With your babies still in your belly.

They took you away

Tried to make you comfortable and safe

But you didn’t feel safe.

The babies had to come

And you had to protect them.

Doing what comes naturally,

You attacked those who were trying to help

Because you didn’t understand.

You used the only weapons you had,

Biting as hard as you could

Tearing through the flesh.

Scratching and biting again.

So the law came down

And took you all to jail.

You were so confused.

Terrified by the others,

The smell of fear around you,

And the barking dogs.

You couldn’t focus on your babies.

Until they put a cover up

Then you felt safer, but still afraid.

You waited

and did the best you could.

For ten days.

They asked me to help

And of course, I said yes.

They took the babies.

And I took you to the place

Where you went to sleep and woke up to pain

And no babies.

I carried you in the box

to a place closer to home.

I tried to talk to you

Tried to feed you.

Your yellow eyes staring holes through my heart.

You only wanted freedom.

The next day, I opened the box.

You waited until my back was turned,

Then stepped past my poultry pate peace offering,

And hurried away.

I didn’t know if I would see you again

Or if you could ever forgive me.

But feral cats multiply quickly.

And you will have no more babies.

> <

Mama Cat did come back to the church courtyard yesterday. She seemed happy to see me and readily accepted food now that she is free. Her two older kittens, who I released back at the church after they were spayed, are slowly becoming more social. The younger kittens are being bottle fed in the home of a couple who volunteered for this mission. I get to take two bottle feeding shifts today. We’ll see how it goes.

Feral Cat Adventures Part 2

“Patch”

A couple of months ago, I wrote about our old feral church cat, Moses, who turned out to be Miss Moses, since we found out she was a girl. Miss Moses had cancer eating away at her mouth, and though she continued to eat plenty of canned cat food, she became more emaciated. She was sleeping a lot, and still feral, would not accept care for her skin and ears. We decided that it was time to say goodbye to Miss Moses on Sunday. Her body is now buried in a semi-secret spot, but her spirit has crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

Leaving food out for Miss Moses attracted another feral cat who started hanging around our church about a year ago. The new cat, a very feral black and white, later showed up with kittens, so I started calling her Mama Cat. When her two surviving kittens looked about 5 months old, I realized we needed to take action to keep our feral cat colony from exploding.

Getting used to the carrier with food inside. Hungry Mama makes a rare entrance, while Patch looks to see if there’s room for her.

After a few weeks of getting the kittens used to me and used to eating in the carriers, and two nights in captivity, our  big kittens were spayed and got rabies and distemper shots. They each got the tip of one ear clipped and blue tattoo lines under their incisions to show they’ve been spayed.

The black and white kitten, who we’ve named “Patch,” has a bad eye which will likely need to be removed. Patch has become quite friendly and allows me to pet her, even without the enticement of food. But she she will not allow me to pick her up yet without squirming like crazy. Her bad eye is better and no longer leaking, but will probably still need to be removed at some point. Her less social sister, Gray is coming along slowly.

Patch and Gray

As I was preparing to get the kittens ready for their trip to the spay/neuter clinic, I didn’t see Mama cat much. When I did see her, she looked bigger in the belly making me wonder. When I was in the midst of getting the big kittens spayed, it became obvious their mama was pregnant again.

The lesson learned: Don’t procrastinate! Neuter and Spay!

(Feral Cat Adventures, Part 3 will be coming soon!)

UPDATE 12/10/16:  Patch got her eye surgery and was adopted by the vet-tech who fell in love with her. Mama Cat and daughter Gray are fat and furry and doing well at the church. I can pet them while they eat, but that’s as far as we go which is okay.

Patience and the Kindness of Strangers

Moses is a feral cat who’s been hanging around our church for at least three years. I don’t know who started feeding him first. It could have been me, or it could have been Mary, or it might have even been our music director, Chris, who still says he doesn’t like Moses, but who feeds him the most, and who worries about him the most.

For the first year we fed Moses, he wouldn’t let us get within a few feet of him. If we came too close, he’d take off. During a ridiculously cold spell, Mary and her husband, BW, put a styrofoam cooler lined with a blanket out for him, and Chris found Moses sleeping there the next morning. The following winter, they built Moses a wooden house lined with styrofoam.

Over the past couple years, a few of us at church worked to gain his trust by gradually moving closer. In time, he got to the point of letting us be as close as we wanted as long as we didn’t try to touch him. If we reached toward him, he’d bolt. But in recent weeks, Moses has accepted pieces food from our hands, and Mary has been able to pet him ever so gently while he eats.

Moses has always looked scraggly and has been losing weight in spite of a good appetite. This past Sunday, he seemed lethargic and let Mary pet him more than usual, even without food as an incentive. Mary made a decision to try to wrap him in a towel to take him to the vet. He wasn’t too happy at first, but Mary held him firmly and was able to bring him into the parish hall. She sat down in a chair, holding Moses firmly in the towel which did little to block the moisture that seeped through as Moses peed on her.  It’s a good thing Mary is patient and loves cats.

We found out the animal clinic connected to a large pet store was open on Sunday and decided to take our chances that they’d see us as a walk in. I drove Mary’s car while Mary held Moses. Even though the vet was dealing with an emergency patient, they agreed to work us in. We waited for quite a while and chatted with others in the waiting room who asked about our snugly wrapped feral cat.

When we got into an exam room, we were told it would still be a while, as the vet was still busy with the emergency. Mary let Moses go and he found a cool hiding place on the floor and drank some water from a bowl. We noticed he had a bad place on his mouth we hadn’t seen before. It looked like some tissue was missing from his upper lip.

After about 30 minutes, the vet came in. She listened to what history we had about Moses, and we warned her that he would not be cooperative. The young, confident woman got down on the floor and introduced herself to Moses, then she calmly caught him by the scuff of his neck, like a mama cat would, (not recommended for amateurs) and put him on the exam table.

Then, Moses let her pet him. He settled down and didn’t struggle. He even purred and “made biscuits” kneading a blanket on the exam table. We were amazed and dubbed her a cat whisperer.

Holding the back of his neck, the vet used a tongue depressor to open his mouth. (Also, not recommended for amateurs.) She said it looked like ulcers, but it could be cancer, and his teeth were not in good shape.

Thank you, Dr. Wallis!

The vet recommended blood work, IV antibiotics, and sub-cutaneous fluids. (In spite of his water bowl at church, he was dehydrated.) The blood work ruled out diabetes and some other problems but did not test for feline leukemia. There was only so much to be done in one unscheduled visit on a Sunday afternoon. But it was a start.

When we went to check out, we were informed that a woman we had talked to earlier in the waiting room had anonymously paid $40 toward our bill! How awesome is that?!

Mary and I each having multiple pets, and wanting to honor Moses, took him back to our church courtyard which he knows as home. When we let him go, he took off for the bushes. I checked on him the next day, and he let me pet him ever so gently while he ate his cat food.