Now that I think about it, we probably should have known. Mom felt an urgency to getting Licorice inside. She said she had a feeling he was sad or depressed. He didn't seem to have the same spirit he used to have when he would meow (endlessly) outside our door. Someone MUST have talked to him A LOT because he is a HUGE talker. Since he always talked to me, I didn't notice anything off about him but she had a gut feeling about it. It just turned out to be the wrong warning.
With Mom's feelings of urgency we started turning talks into actions. Money was withdrawn in advance to be set aside for the appointment. The laundry room was mostly cleaned out in case we had to quarantine him due to minor stuff like parasites or lil infections. I MADE myself go to bed super early (for me, so like before 2a.m.) so I could wake up and shower before it was time to feed the strays when it was light out (6:30a.m. usually). Okay so I got up a smidgeon later than planned but I was out of the shower before it got light anyway. I stayed outside after kitty feedings to wait for Tundra to leave and so Licorice wouldn't have to spend ALL morning in the carrier. Well I stayed out as long as I could and since I can't stand or crouch outside forever and it was kinda nippy it wasn't too too long.
The easy part was getting Licorice in the carrier. I put a lil dish of treats in the back and since he already lets me grab him, I just scooped, guided, and let him walk into the carrier. He was so distracted with the treats he didn't even care that I closed the door behind him. That was the easy part.
The moment the treats were gone, he started crying....for the next two and a half hours! He paused for breath or when I reached in to pet him (which was every so often or when he got super loud while Mom was working). In between shush/pet sessions, I ate breakfast, packed snackage (for both of us), a book, and the paper I'm writing the draft of this on, and got ready to go. Mom's break was at 10:15a.m., so she dropped Licorice and I off for what we thought would be a longish visit. Oh and wow, I thought Oreo hated car rides! Maybe he still does, but Licorice was louder than Oreo ever was! Or maybe it just seemed that way. Poor traumatized Licorice.
Licorice is a 10lb, neutered, 4-5 year old male that did surprisingly well in the vet's office apart from the crying while in the carrier. But it still wasn't meant to be...
....
Friday, October 14, 2011
AND that's where I left off. I don't remember why I stopped. Maybe texting too much with Mom and Dad about how she was almost off work or maybe just too upset to continue.
Licorice was tested positive for Feline Aids which isn't as bad as Feline Leukemia but would still lead to regular medical care and costs we weren't able to deal with or afford, not to mention the testing and vaccinating we'd need to keep up with our own cats. I spent a couple hours at some tables outside the nearby Starbucks writing that and crying that we couldn't keep Licorice. After an hour of continued cry-meowing, Licorice finally settled and tried to sleep. When Mom picked me up, we took him straight to the shelter. If someone adopted him who could afford to, great. If not, at least he wouldn't suffer outside anymore or unloved for too long. I meant to call back and see if someone had adopted him, but I was too afraid of the answer. And they'd told us no black cats were allowed to be adopted during October (to prevent sickos from taking him to be cruel or something for Halloween) if he was still around then. The fact that he was infected is means Snickers is likely infected too. We will eventually take them all straight to the shelter now....
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