All Is Forgiven--Almost

Approximately forty-eight hours ago, I brought Ponzo and Locksley home from the Pet Wellness Clinic hosted by the local animal shelter. Even though Locksley was not due to have his shots updated for another month, I thought it would be good for Ponzo to have some company in the car. Naturally, Ponzo, being the smaller cat, got to go in the larger cat carrier, simply because the carrier had been stored in Ponzo's private room. I had not had the foresight to get the carriers ready the night before. You see, when the intended occupants see me pick up a carrier, that's it, they're gone into hiding in a flash.

I have been unable to figure out how the cats always seem to know who is, and who is not, scheduled to go for a dreaded car ride. That is, unless I do not have a particular cat or cats earmarked for capture--then everyone vanishes without a trace. Anway, that's Emma in the photo; she is wishing Locksley and Ponzo a safe and speedy return home. The other cats, being naturally curious creatures, did not run and hide, but strolled about the room after bidding the two carrier inmates a fond adieu. Had there been a need for me to do so, I could have grabbed one of the others as well. Fairly easily, I think. But I am convinced that the other cats knew instinctively that they would be staying home, otherwise they would have gone into hiding. This I know from many years of experience because I dread the ordeal of first locating, then capturing, and finally placing cats inside carriers. Usually this means furniture needs to be moved, and I end up being exhausted before we even get to the car. My worst experience was when I had to take apart a bed, while I played musical mattresses/bed frame, so to speak, with Ginny; oh, I won the game--at the cost of several nicks in the wall, and I promised myself I would never play that game again.

Ponzo, Locksley, and I survived Saturday's ordeal, but not without an incident at the shelter. It was a very long wait, but most of our time was spent in the car, which was fine with the cats because they expressed no interest in going out to see the horde of barking dogs. When we finally got to go inside the building, I sat down to wait for our turn and I wondered why the shelter smelled. I had immediately noticed the distinct smell of cat urine. Then it dawned on me that the odor could be emanating from one of my cat carriers. When the shelter director came over and said she smelled a tomcat, I immediately apologized, explaining that Ponzo was an unneutered male because he is an FIV-positive feral.... (Yes, I strongly believe in spaying/neutering, and none of my pets are capable of reproduction. And Ponzo's day to be neutered is approaching. In the meantime, trust me, there is no way Ponzo is going to become a father inside our house.)

Nevertheless, when one hears the word tomcat, especially an FIV-positive, feral tomcat, an image of a big cat who likes to fight with other cats comes to mind--at least that is the image I get. Ponzo, on the other hand, is a timid soul, a small cat who steps aside for other cats. He had made his home in drainage ditches, apparently, and had been fed by kind people, but he would bolt if anyone approached him. He was our neighborhood wild cat. And I had the opportunity of observing him before he landed in the cats' underground railroad passageway, which ultimately led him inside my house. So I know for a fact, that if Ponzo is eating and another cat comes along, Ponzo will walk away and wait for the other cat to finish eating before he returns to his meal.

Also, Ponzo has never once sprayed inside our house. He had not sprayed inside the cat carrier in the shelter either. But from fright, Ponzo had urinated and pooped all over himself. The vet and his staff were extremely nice, by the way. They even cleaned the carrier for us. But Ponzo did come home with a memento, a small piece of poop attached to his bushy tail.

Ponzo was happy to come home, but he is now spending a lot of time under the bed, which is where he had preferred to hide in July. But he will come sit on my lap, and he does play with his toys in my presence, only he now chooses to sleep under the bed instead of on it. Fortunately, Ponzo still comes to me immediately whenever I call his name. So, we have not regressed too much. As for Locksley, he was also happy to come home. The remainder of the weekend, however, Locksley would come up to me with a look on his face which I interpreted to mean, "What in the world possessed you to make me go through such an ordeal? Have you gone mad?" Nonetheless, all is forgiven--almost.