Charlie P. (NY)
Gold Member
- Feb 3, 2006
- 13,003
- 17,106
- Detector(s) used
- Minelab Musketeer Advantage Pro w/8" & 10" DD coils/Fisher F75se(Upgraded to LTD2) w/11" DD, 6.5" concentric & 9.5" NEL Sharpshooter DD coils/Sunray FX-1 Probe & F-Point/Black Widows/Rattler headphone
- Primary Interest:
- Metal Detecting
We had a "visitor" cat in our barn this past summer (not infrequent - we like out in mattress, bald tire & cat drop off land) who had been hanging around and in July we noticed a kitten under our front porch. Well, that put a different spin on things. Not long thereafter I was watching the kitten under our boat tarp and mentioned it to THE ADMIRAL . . . but she said "No, it's out back." Two kittens. Eventually we spotted a third. Two black & one gray.
Then one night I was putting the chickens to bed (closing up the coop doors) and one of the black kittens was on the floor of the coop. It looked bad. Something had grabbed it by the neck and a 1" flap of skin was hanging loose underneath the neck; blood all down his chest. We formerly raised sheep (and I'm a klutz) and I keep a pretty extensive first aid cabinet in the basement for man & beast. I scooped up the poor little waif and got him into the cellar and we used peroxide to clean up the wound and "wound powder" (a sulfa-type coagulant and wound dressing - I use it on myself and it is phenomenal) to stem the blood and form a "crust". Not knowing whether it was possibly rabies or other illnesses & misc. parasites we didn't want our five house cats exposed to I made up a spot in the barn where "ma" could hopefully find it (it's a cozy corner where we had seen them and "ma" prior) and placed the kitten back outside.
Well, he rallied. And it didn't hurt that I also left a pile of cat food in the barn. Occasionally I played "mom" myself with a warm mouse from one of the "tin cat" traps we have in the barn. It got to be that whenever I went outside thereafter I had a little shadow. He also enjoyed helping my wife when she was knitting on the deck. We named him "Tink"; which is the opposite of knit and kind of how his help with the yarn went. If I sat on the outside deck I could count on a little furball curling up in my lap. The other two stayed distant and skittish. "No more cats" THE ADMIRAL kept saying.
We found a home for one of the black cats (a female) so that was one less worry. The gray one and Tink had got so they came for their cat foo in the evening when I closed up. Easy to grab her then. The gray one remained pretty much to itself. When we figured they were about 13 weeks old we decided we better do something before we had another round and tried to find organizations that might neuter and spay "wild" cats. No such luck. So we ended up making arrangements with our vet for a "rough and ready" visit with no preliminary bloodwork or the normal precautions (though we did have the FIP feline leukemia test done at the time). Tink was easy to catch. The Gray one (who we had by then labeled "Gracie") we figured we could lure in to the food dish and Tink would be easy to get a hold of afterwards.
Hoo Boy! Happily I decided to wear leather "roper" gloves. I managed a death grip on Gracie and this tiny, 2-1/2 lb kitten went full Berzerker and was NOT going to go down quietly. She bit my index finger so hard I had a bruise the next day. I never bruise. Felt like a pair pf pliers. And the clawing and raking and shrieking was astonishing. Of course I wasn't going to let go at that point so I tried to be firm without crushing her and stuffed he into a cat carrier. Whew! I came off without a scratch - much to my and my wife's amazement. Tink got his own box because the carrier was moving like an unbalanced heavy load in the drier. Spay & Neuter . . . $423 - poof!
A day later we brought them home and put them in the basement in a chicken brooder box (just until they healed up because . . . "No more cats!"). Well, they healed, the tests were all negative, we had antbiotics and wormer to put in their food, and we asked friends, neighbors and strangers if anyone wanted a cat. No takers.
Well, that was three weeks ago. Of course, we now have seven house cats.
Astonishingly Gracie seems to hold no grudge. She has been up on my lap most evenings. Both of them have that appreciated tendency you sometimes get where they do not use their claws to play or find (or leave) a lap. I figured she'd be under the couch and distant. Not at all. She doesn't much care for Duffy, our Airedale (who wants to play in the worst way - but plays rough). Tink just loves everyone and, amazingly, both get along with all of the older cats. Especially amazing because our older crew tend not to like each other very much. Two males that are buds but the females ALL don't get along with Moe - our large three legged black cat - and tend to choose neutral corners in the house. Tink looks like Mini-Moe and they sleep together, right along with Gracie.
Moe is a story in himself. Six years ago we got a call from a vet's assistant at S.P.E.A.K. who lives nearby and said they had just done some pro-bono surgery on a drop-off kitten and it needed a bit of recuperative care. Being idiots we went to look. You never saw a sadder example of a kitten. He looked like something you would pick out of a coyote turd or pool filter. And the vet guessed it was a dog or coyote who had shaken him to pieces.
I measured 13 inches of stitches on this little scruff. Front leg gone, back, hip and belly shaved and repaired, plus neutering while they had him apart. I figured we wouldn't have to make him comfortable for long (normally they charge $60 to "place" a kitten - we donated $45 because it was only 3/4 of a kitten).
He turned out to be a big and sweet galoot. To us. Pesters our three (older) female cats to no end. Still kind of pitiful to watch him walk but he runs just fine.
The other night THE ADMIRAL was tussling with our dog (who has a fierce sound play growl) tugging on a Wubba toy and Moe decided "Ma" was in danger. He came in howling and lit after the dog and surprised everyone. My Wife was so proud of him for defending her. I kind of was as well.
Cats are like kids. You get back in proportion to what you give them.
Then one night I was putting the chickens to bed (closing up the coop doors) and one of the black kittens was on the floor of the coop. It looked bad. Something had grabbed it by the neck and a 1" flap of skin was hanging loose underneath the neck; blood all down his chest. We formerly raised sheep (and I'm a klutz) and I keep a pretty extensive first aid cabinet in the basement for man & beast. I scooped up the poor little waif and got him into the cellar and we used peroxide to clean up the wound and "wound powder" (a sulfa-type coagulant and wound dressing - I use it on myself and it is phenomenal) to stem the blood and form a "crust". Not knowing whether it was possibly rabies or other illnesses & misc. parasites we didn't want our five house cats exposed to I made up a spot in the barn where "ma" could hopefully find it (it's a cozy corner where we had seen them and "ma" prior) and placed the kitten back outside.
Well, he rallied. And it didn't hurt that I also left a pile of cat food in the barn. Occasionally I played "mom" myself with a warm mouse from one of the "tin cat" traps we have in the barn. It got to be that whenever I went outside thereafter I had a little shadow. He also enjoyed helping my wife when she was knitting on the deck. We named him "Tink"; which is the opposite of knit and kind of how his help with the yarn went. If I sat on the outside deck I could count on a little furball curling up in my lap. The other two stayed distant and skittish. "No more cats" THE ADMIRAL kept saying.
We found a home for one of the black cats (a female) so that was one less worry. The gray one and Tink had got so they came for their cat foo in the evening when I closed up. Easy to grab her then. The gray one remained pretty much to itself. When we figured they were about 13 weeks old we decided we better do something before we had another round and tried to find organizations that might neuter and spay "wild" cats. No such luck. So we ended up making arrangements with our vet for a "rough and ready" visit with no preliminary bloodwork or the normal precautions (though we did have the FIP feline leukemia test done at the time). Tink was easy to catch. The Gray one (who we had by then labeled "Gracie") we figured we could lure in to the food dish and Tink would be easy to get a hold of afterwards.
Hoo Boy! Happily I decided to wear leather "roper" gloves. I managed a death grip on Gracie and this tiny, 2-1/2 lb kitten went full Berzerker and was NOT going to go down quietly. She bit my index finger so hard I had a bruise the next day. I never bruise. Felt like a pair pf pliers. And the clawing and raking and shrieking was astonishing. Of course I wasn't going to let go at that point so I tried to be firm without crushing her and stuffed he into a cat carrier. Whew! I came off without a scratch - much to my and my wife's amazement. Tink got his own box because the carrier was moving like an unbalanced heavy load in the drier. Spay & Neuter . . . $423 - poof!
A day later we brought them home and put them in the basement in a chicken brooder box (just until they healed up because . . . "No more cats!"). Well, they healed, the tests were all negative, we had antbiotics and wormer to put in their food, and we asked friends, neighbors and strangers if anyone wanted a cat. No takers.
Well, that was three weeks ago. Of course, we now have seven house cats.
Astonishingly Gracie seems to hold no grudge. She has been up on my lap most evenings. Both of them have that appreciated tendency you sometimes get where they do not use their claws to play or find (or leave) a lap. I figured she'd be under the couch and distant. Not at all. She doesn't much care for Duffy, our Airedale (who wants to play in the worst way - but plays rough). Tink just loves everyone and, amazingly, both get along with all of the older cats. Especially amazing because our older crew tend not to like each other very much. Two males that are buds but the females ALL don't get along with Moe - our large three legged black cat - and tend to choose neutral corners in the house. Tink looks like Mini-Moe and they sleep together, right along with Gracie.
Moe is a story in himself. Six years ago we got a call from a vet's assistant at S.P.E.A.K. who lives nearby and said they had just done some pro-bono surgery on a drop-off kitten and it needed a bit of recuperative care. Being idiots we went to look. You never saw a sadder example of a kitten. He looked like something you would pick out of a coyote turd or pool filter. And the vet guessed it was a dog or coyote who had shaken him to pieces.
I measured 13 inches of stitches on this little scruff. Front leg gone, back, hip and belly shaved and repaired, plus neutering while they had him apart. I figured we wouldn't have to make him comfortable for long (normally they charge $60 to "place" a kitten - we donated $45 because it was only 3/4 of a kitten).
He turned out to be a big and sweet galoot. To us. Pesters our three (older) female cats to no end. Still kind of pitiful to watch him walk but he runs just fine.
The other night THE ADMIRAL was tussling with our dog (who has a fierce sound play growl) tugging on a Wubba toy and Moe decided "Ma" was in danger. He came in howling and lit after the dog and surprised everyone. My Wife was so proud of him for defending her. I kind of was as well.
Cats are like kids. You get back in proportion to what you give them.
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