Several of you have been intently following the saga of Not Our Cat (Prince). I’ve got a novella of an update here that ultimately has a happy ending – but has been chaotic, to say the least. If this doesn’t interest you, scroll on, friend…scroll on (but it’s a good story)…
So about 6 weeks ago, I’d posted that we’d decided to “call it” on Prince being ours – we’d gotten a brief verbal OK from the neighbor, and no response to a letter we’d put in her box seeing if we could make it more official. We put our own collar on him. A few days after that, he came back one night without the collar. A few days after THAT, rob encountered the neighbor on the street while he was loading gear, and she said that she’d had a change of heart and really couldn’t “give Prince away.” If and when she left the neighborhood (vague mention of moving this summer), she planned to take him with her. But she said she was OK with him continuing to essentially live at our house, for now.
At the time, I was pretty angry. I rewrote about 4 versions of another letter to her that I never ended up sending (at this point, I had never actually spoken to her myself). I cooled off, and we just decided to go with the status quo for a bit (I couldn’t imagine now refusing him the care we’ve been giving him), and would see if we could engage her in further conversation. A vet tech friend advised me that it wouldn’t be a good idea to take him to a vet without her explicit permission, unless it was life-threatening. I contacted another neighbor who lives between us, and was able to find out her first name – an unusual Slavic one that I’m not surprised rob couldn’t remember when she told it to him. We’ll call her L here…
Fast forward to this past Monday. Prince had been out in the big storm the day before, and came in that night wet and bedraggled, but seemed fine (this is not an uncommon state for him). Monday morning we found him hiding under an end table that’s become his “thunderstorm hidey spot.” After a bit, he came out but would not eat his usual dry food breakfast. He did eat a bit of wet food, but over the next couple days it was clear that something was wrong. He was hiding, listless, not seeming to drink water, would eat a bit of wet food but not the usual amount, seemed to maybe have some mouth issues, a slightly drippy nose, and was not his usual belly-flopped affectionate self. We also noticed a small bald spot on the back of his neck that we hadn’t seen before, and he didn’t want to be touched there. My theory was that maybe L gave him a flea treatment and he had a reaction to it and/or ingested some, and/or just had a really rough experience in the storm.
L seems to rarely be home, so I rolled up my Googling Sleeves. I track down her last name and am certain I’ve found the right person. Eventually I found her facebook account, and messaged her on Wednesday. She responded right away and I told her what was going on. She said she had not given him any flea meds, and would make a vet appt for him. I asked her to keep me posted on when and where. She also said that she had seen him today and he ate for her. I said “hm, that’s weird, he’s been in since last night and I only let him out right before I messaged you.” Minutes went by and then she said “oh sorry, I guess that was last night. My house has been crazy lately.” Hmmmmm….
After not hearing from her by the next morning and Prince not seeming to get any better, I poked her again. She said she’s been working on getting him an appointment but has limited income and is trying to find a pro bono vet. Aha. A…*HA*.
I said we would be happy to pay for the visit and diagnostics, but that we really need to get him to a vet soon. I haven’t seen him drink any water for a few days now. I’ll spare the details of the additional back and forth and me having to poke her a few more times after not getting the promised responses. Shortened version:
She acknowledged that it’s probably best that she turn Prince over to us because she doesn’t have the financial means to care for him right now. I end up calling the local emergency vet because we can’t get him in that day anywhere else. They can take him. I crate him up for the first time (no problems, just expected whining). I meet L and her 8 year old son in the vet’s parking lot. The carrier is now on the ground outside my car, and as I’m lifting the handle to bring him inside…
The carrier fails. Its door swings open, and Prince scrambles out. AAAAAHHHH!! He zooms across the parking lot and gets under a parked SUV. Two vet techs that saw what happened spring into action and join us in circling the car. Eventually, L is able to grab him by the scruff and drag him out. He is whisked away to the back because he’s now fully freaking out. And I’m trying not to. Good gravy, I am so glad we got him!
Well. After all this excitement, the doctor can’t find anything really abnormal. A slight fever, mild dehydration. Possible mild upper respiratory infection but not enough to warrant antibiotics or other meds. No mouth issues; teeth are in good shape. We recount a shortened version of his backstory and ownership transfer. They give some subcutaneous fluids to help with dehydration, and send me home with instructions to keep him inside for a few days and monitor him. When we get home, I expect him to run away, hide and seethe at me for what I’ve done to him. Instead, he comes out cautiously, goes into the kitchen, rubs on my legs and eats not only the other half of his wet food, but almost the entire bowl of dry food he hasn’t touched all that week. What a stinker! He’s clearly still a bit traumatized, but hopefully on the upswing and I think the fluids helped.
It took a semi-crisis, but at least now L and I have talked and have an agreement. I found out more about her situation. She’s going through a lot. She seems like a caring person, but has too much on her plate and hasn’t been able to admit that she can’t care for this animal. She’s apologetic about all the trouble. I certainly worry about her other 4 indoor cats and dog, but…that’s not my business. She told me someone else on the block threatened to call animal control on her because she keeps Prince outside (bc he gets bullied by her other cats…yes, as big as he is!!). It still makes me a little angry, but I figured the constructive thing would be compassion and patience, and that seems to have paid off. I wish we lived in a world where we could really know and feel comfortable calling on all our neighbors, but…bit by bit I guess.
Assuming he recuperates well, I plan to get him to the non-emergency vet later this month to get up to date on shots, (he needs everything, apparently), a thorough checkup and advice/plan to get him happily transitioning to be an indoor cat, as we all agree that’s what he needs. There will be a lot of whining, but hopefully we can do it. Not sure yet if I will just try to go cold turkey or still let him out occasionally. Advice welcome! We’ll see how these next few days go keeping him inside.
I’m exhausted y’all, but we’re officially cat parents now. Here is Himself resting after his ordeal today.
Fine! For now.
