Tommy, Part I

We found Tommy on 3/25. He was meowing as loudly as a moo from a cow. He was the hungriest kitty I'd ever seen. His back legs trembled just to perch himself in front of his bowl of Cat Chow. Yet, he was so appreciative and friendly. He meowed appropriate thanks and appreciated belly rubs from the get-go. This was SOMEONE'S cat. Someone would be missing him and worried about him. I thought, "I HAVE to find his family."

Well, I did. After posting Tommy’s face and story all over the internet and the real world, seven days later, I finally got the call I thought I’d been waiting for. His owner saw the signs we posted in the neighborhood and left a gleeful...think almost s-i-n-g-i-n-g...voicemail message. "He's mine! I'm sure it's him! I can pick him up tomorrow!" It was a great feeling...until I called him back. My heart hit the floor as he described this outgoing, friendly cat as timid and “retarded”. I asked when the cat had gone missing to be sure we were talking about the same cat, as this description certainly did not jive with the cat we had found. He volunteered that:

• He thought the cat had gotten out three days after we had found him


• He lives close enough to us that I could throw a rock and hit his house


• His cat was “bony” (a strange description for a cat who was only missing for a day or two)
  
• He had chosen the ironic name of Lucky for the helpless animal he was starving to death.

I'm not the greatest with logic problems, but this was, unfortunately, an easy one to solve. The more he said, the more I knew—this was his cat, he had been terribly neglected, and he wasn’t getting him back. I was shocked to find myself at my original goal and wanting to run the other way. The guy ended up telling me to keep him, which was probably the first lucky thing to happen to Lucky so far in his life. They were moving in a few weeks and weren't planning to take him anyway. Nice, huh? It did make my job of not giving him back easier. Next post: the vet visit and WHO took that photo?