What did the jellyfish say to the beach goer?

Last week, I went to Fort Lauderdale with my friend Dina. While I didn't *find* any animals there, I did meet one. I can't say it was a pleasure, but I know it didn't intend to meet me. This is a photo of my souvenir taken a week after we met.

At least I didn't have to find its owner!

Local Family Wins the Feline Lottery

Four-and-a-half long hours later, the would-be owner replied: “Can I come over tonight?” And 45 minutes later, she arrived! I whisked her back to the bathroom (as I do all guests). She loved Tommy (no surprise there).

His neutering surgery was the following day. I’d been feeling guilty about scheduling this since we hadn’t even found a home for yet. But it seemed like things were finally falling into place. The would-be owner and I agreed that it would be best for him to have a few days of rest post-surgery, but tentatively talked about them taking him to his new home on Saturday. (!!!)

When she left, I felt like the weight off a Hummer had been lifted off of me—and I danced around like a crazy person.

Tommy came through the surgery with flying colors. It was sad to see the note on his carrier said “store room.” I realize he had to be kept separate, but it’s sad to think of the poor guy recovering from surgery in a store room. Despite his day, he seemed to be feeling good about things. He was 2+ pounds heavier than two weeks earlier and his fur was getting thicker and softer. And he had good reason to be feeling so good...

This past Saturday, Tommy went to his new home! He has a great family, including at least three pre-teen/teen kids doting on him. They came to pick him up with the father and the kids were SO excited to meet him and get him home. And he has a cat-loving dog brother. It was bittersweet to say goodbye, but so wonderful to know that he was going to be cared for by this great family (who also reimbursed us for most of our expenses, which was very generous and unexpected).

Last report was that “Tyler” was settling in fine and enjoying sitting on the back of the sofa, looking out of his Lincoln Park picture window. I hope he enjoys the view for many years to come.

And has he been spraying?

Are you kidding me? You actually think I would bring that up?! ;) Let’s just say that they promised to get in touch if things weren’t working out. So, while I hope to get another update...for now, no news is great news. Tommy has a home and a great new family. In the words of Sheri: Yahooooooooo!!!!! My thoughts exactly.

Thank you to all who helped us along the way!

My response to "the" question

So, I had to answer "the" question. And honestly. There was much care...and physical and emotional (yes, it's possible) sweat...in composing my response. Thanks, Em, for the final thumbs up. I might still be tweaking. ;)

My response:

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I will answer your question honestly, but hope that you will consider my full response in regards to the situation.

Tommy did spray a couple times in our bathtub last week. We decided it was likely he was doing this in response to his litterbox which, although we scooped first, still contained litter with the scents of other cats. Last week, we put the litterbox through the dishwasher and added all fresh litter. There have been some drops in the bathtub since, but the amount is dramatically reduced.

Male cats who are not neutered spray. That's a fact. Tommy will be neutered tomorrow. This will eliminate the testosterone that makes him feel the need to mark his territory or attract mates. It's my understanding after discussing with our vet that, in most cases, neutering stops spraying. If a cat continues to spray after the surgery, the spray does not contain the same chemical makeup as pre-neuter spray. This would be considered a behavioral issue that can be addressed. It is also likely that the scents of the cats living beyond the bathroom door have contributed to his desire to spray, even just a small amount, while being isolated in our bathroom.

[name], please consider what I've said above in your decision. Please also consider that you are likely our last chance for finding him a home. It's maybe not fair to you to let you know this, but I'm the only advocate Tommy has and he deserves to have that be known. Your email came at a time when the "adopttommy" inbox had received no activity for days and the hope for finding him a home was at an all-time low. His testing positive greatly narrowed the field for him in terms of being adopted in a world of many homeless non-special needs cats. It's a terrible catch-22 that the no-kill shelters that would normally be his last hope cannot take him because of this positive status.

I realize there are many variables at play here, but there are no known answers unless we give the situation a try—give Tommy a chance to try.

Please let me know if you are still willing to move forward...and we can maybe go forward with a meeting tonight.
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Yes, I realize I reused some of the language I used below, but come on!? Aren't you as ready as I am to get to the ending?

Tommy, Part III

A woman emailed me last Saturday about Tommy. Her friend had received Sheri's petraits email about Tommy, printed it out and brought it to a lunch they had planned. Her email came at a time when the "adopttommy" inbox had received no activity for days and the hope for finding him a home was at an all-time low. His testing positive greatly narrowed the field for him in terms of being adopted in a world of many homeless non-special needs cats. But this one was my responsibility. It's a terrible catch-22 that the no-kill shelters that would normally be his last hope cannot take him because of this positive status. I am really not trying to be dramatic here, but the situation was grim. And what we were having to contemplate for Tommy would be extremely traumatic to me. Anyone who wouldn't feel this way....well, I don't know why you're reading this blog right now. Shouldn't you be out hunting?

I had been forced into the "what now" phase I so dreaded. Clearly, it was not a long-term solution for anyone involved for him to remain living in our bathroom. Though I will say that both cat and humans involved adapted surprisingly well to the situation. Shout out to former crappy onwner from Tommy: being fed and loved, albeit in a bathroom, is much preferred to living with you. Who would argue?

Back to the prospective home for Tommy! Multiple positive emails went back and forth through Sunday with mentions of coming to meet Tommy on Monday. Things were going swimmingly, until I received an email containing the following:

"One last question raised by cat owners I'm asking--do you see any signs that he likes to "spray"? That's one habit I just can't handle..."

My impulse was to respond "Nope. No signs at all, everything's great!" This was quickly taken over by my conscience. She deserved to know that he had sprayed a few times, because if this was a deal breaker, which it sounded like it was, it would be better to address it now than later. My reply (next blog) was one of the most well thought-out emails I've ever written. I considered every word as though someone's life was on the line. Unfortunately, this was really the case. Talk about pressure.

This just in (and then out)

Okay, I feel like I'm in some weird Jim Carrey movie or something, which is funny cause I can't stand the man. However, he has done a few movies where he suddenly has some "gift" to contend with that keeps cropping up in his life. For me, it's animals in need. I don't even have to look for them!

On my way to work this morning, a cute pug of a dog named Buffy RAN across a busy intersection. F-O-U-R lanes of traffic. For those of you who are local, hey who am I kidding...nice to see you again, Deb...it was around Caldwell and Lenox, right by the golf course. Luckily, everyone reacted in time, since the light had just turned green. Buffy made it to the other side and ran straight up to a woman walking her dog. I pulled around the corner and got out, thinking that the woman might need some help. I will say here that, when I made the decision to stop, I could already see that the dog had a collar and tags. I didn't stop to be the rescuer. I considered the other woman the main rescuer and myself the sidekick. I didn't realize sidekicks could be so bossy. I felt like a professional when instructing head rescuer Candy as to our next steps.

• We need to get him in my car.


• We need to call the number on the tags (she didn't have her cell phone).


• We need to drive to your house and you can keep him until we find his owners.

I was afraid she was going to resist this last part, but she hopped in the car and told me her address. I'm not authoratative by any sense of the word in any other area of my life, but I guess animals bring it out. It's kind of fun.

Less than an hour later, Buffy was home.

It was kind of cool. I never find anyone with a collar/tags or microchip, so this was fun new territory that wouldn't include weeks of craigslist postings and an inbox full of check scammers each morning. Plus, I was just Candy's bossy assistant. It was nice to have an almost-instant happy ending.

When I called my husband to tell him I had rescued a dog, his question was a suspicious "Where is it now?" He was relieved to hear that I was still on my way to work--alone!

Tommy, Part II

We took Tommy to the vet the weekend after we found him. This was before we had located the owner. We were becoming quite attached to Tommy and decided that if nobody stepped forward as his owner or as the perfect adoptive family, we'd welcome him into ours. We were eager to get a clean bill of health to allow us to start introducing him to the interested cats outside the bathroom. The vet commented that we had "found a good one." We agreed. What we found out next didn't change that, but required a completely new plan of action. His blood test came back positive for feline leukemia and FIV. This was a huge blow. It wasn't a death sentence for him, but it meant that he could not live with other cats and there was no keeping him. He would be competing, unfortunately, against many other homeless cats with no special needs. We had rescued Katie, one of our cats, two years ago and, when we couldn't find her owner, kept the kitty we had come to love. This was new territory. Scary territory.

Since we could no longer offer the safety net of keeping him, we had to contend with the fact that we had to find him a new home ASAP. It wasn't fair to him to keep him cooped up in our bathroom for much longer. The people who would have likely stepped up to help him (feline lovers or no-kill shelters) could not take him, as he posed a serious threat to other cats.

There were a few tears in the hours after his diagnosis, but I rolled up my sleeves up and got to work--because Tommy couldn't. I talked to many people in the Chicago shelter arena and one name kept coming up: Sheri Berliner. She's a local pet photographer (http://www.petraits.com/) who is also a very dedicated advocate for homeless animals in Chicago. As such, she takes photos of shelter dogs and cats in her studio setting, emails them to her list of 3600 local animal-lover contacts and posts them on petfinder.com. Her success rate in finding homes for homeless animals is phenomenal. The combination of her passion, talent and innate ability to capture the true spirit of an animal is evident in every photograph she takes. Even more amazing, she responded to my email within hours. And took Tommy's photos that same night. She wrote a bio to accompany Tommy's photos and so, twice-over, truly captured him. She is not interested in a quick fix, but rather a forever home. It shows.

With Sheri's photos and the hope that they would touch that one special person we needed to reach, Tommy's adventure continued. I was prepared for the worst, but hoped to find that needle in a haystack. There was a reason he found us.

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?