Rehomed

Just to say that we’re pretty much hanging out at: http://8livescatrescue.wordpress.com/ now. Please come and join us there.

standing at the cat flap

We’re kind of standing by the cat flap at the moment – trying to make our minds up. If you have a pet porte microchip flap you’ll be able to relate to this – standing outside, making the flap beep and click the catch open, but not actually coming in, so it locks again …. and then repeating the whole process again seconds later. If you’re more low tech, it’s standing half in and half out the door whilst your human waits for you to look up the garden, sniff the air, come back in and check your food bowl, have a scratch and think about whether you want to go out.

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So we’re half blogging here at accidental fosterer, and half ready to make the jump to our new blog at 8 Lives

Hopefully, as cat lovers you’ll be used to this kind of indecision and stick with us whilst we make up our minds.

… and the start of the next chapter

First of all I want to say thanks to those people who sent me messages of support following my previous post. It meant an awful lot to me when I was feeling so down to know that you value the work I do and are there for me in so many different ways.

It might have been a good time to stop all the chaos of having a house full of cats, tidy up, shampoo and mend the carpets and get back to whatever ‘normal’ used to be. However I’m not sure what I’d do without my second home at the vets, and the familiar sound of stampeding kittens as they race across the landing in their clogs.

Some things have started to come together – some of them from crazy co incidences:

1) A few years ago I bumped into a friend whom I’d not seen since we were in our teens. We’d each moved from completely different areas of Sheffield to now live 10 minutes walk from each other. He’d taken on a cattery business, I’d got into cat rescue. He’s keen to help cats less fortunate than most of the ones who are his guests. I’m keen to exploit this 😉

2) One of the many vet practices I’ve frequented whilst fostering offered some excellent deals to the rescue I was fostering for. The rescue declined them, however the vet was happy to offer them to me.

3) I have some lovely friends in cat rescue who have introduced me to other people, or I’ve stumbled across them on facebook. Feel like I’m building up a great support network.

4) Some of the humans who have adopted foster kits from me have stayed in touch, some of them for several years now. Food parcels, emotional support, art work and all kinds of everything very gratefully accepted from them. [I especially love getting pics of my ex foster people, now ruling their own households]

Feels like there maybe should be a trumpet fanfare introduction here -but its more a tentative suggestion. We’re looking at becoming “8Lives” cat rescue. The 8 is about focussing on Sheffield 8 postcode – otherwise I’m going to be tempted to help every poor soul from Aberdeen to Aberystwyth. It’s also a reflection that most of the felines who come into rescue have lost one of their 9 lives already.

I’d love to be able to rescue every poor stray in the area, and help everyone around here who needs to re home their pet either temporarily or permanently due to domestic violence or illness. I’m not going to be able to. However, if I can help some of them ….

End of an era

This week has seen the conclusion of just over 18 months fostering for Cat Action Trust 1977. It’s not been a happy ending, sadly all too often in rescue it seems that personalities and politics get in the way of the job we all set out to do.

To balance the heartache of recent events I’ve been thinking back to some of the lovely cats and people I’ve been fortunate enough to meet over the last 18 months.

A quick tally tells me I’ve had 33 foster cats through CAT77, 6 of those were born here, one of them (new born kitten) sadly died here, and three of them have become permanent residents.

Duke

Obi & Amara

Gabriel

Star

Smudge

Honey & Amber

Alfie

Fluffy

Fidget & Flipper

Dizzy & Dunlop

Spook

Box

Cookie

Gaia & Gizmo

Pumpkin

Pirelli

Panda

Marmalade

Stanley

Snowflake

Cassie

Choc, Chip & Cuthbert

Murphy

Aminah & Amigo

There’s been about 45 vet appointments, fifteen being double vet runs for neutering (early morning drop off, evening pick up) and another 30 appointments for vaccinations, poorly kittens etc. I think its fair to say that the most notable of these was the trip with 8 kits with upset tums all the way to Doncaster, only to run into a serious traffic jam on the M18. You might think it couldn’t get worse, but the conclusion of the consultation was that I should gather stool samples from each of them over 3 days and take it back for analysis.

I’ve also met some lovely people whilst doing over 30 home checks, from Bakewell to Stocksbridge, and Walkley to Ripley. Then there’s all the wonderful people who have come to meet my foster kits and adopt them. I’m especially grateful to those who have taken the time to stay in touch and let me know how the cats are going on. The tummy upsets, trashed plants, torn curtains all seem worthwhile when I get a pic of a once terrified feline now sprawled happily on someone’s sofa.

I tried to estimate how many doses of anti biotic and wormer and eye drops and ear drops were involved …. and what proportion of it ended up on the bathroom floor. Who knows? I do know I got one heck of a lot of experience of medicating cats when the 8 tummy upset kits needed anti biotics twice a day for 10 days.

How many boxes of pouches have they consumed between them I wonder? How many toys have they trashed? How many hours of cleaning, feeding, playing? Yards of duck tape used in vain effort to mend and protect carpet? How many times have I said “get down” “leave that” “stop it”?

So many things just can’t be counted … like the joy they’ve brought me. Bless them all … may they and their humans have long and happy healthy lives together.

rescue party

Young Morris has landed himself a fab new home, and will be moving in after his humans’ holiday.

I think it went to his head a bit because when they came round to visit him again this evening he got brave and jumped over the back fence with the older kits. … and then couldn’t get back. I know its a great home for him because his humans instantly forgave his rudeness in clearing off and were concerned about him getting back.

There are a limited number of ground level ways through hedges and netting that the older residents know, and they tried to show him, but he wasn’t listening. The bigger kittens, Amigo, Aminah and Flipper put heart and soul into the search, following me round to both neighbours to see if I could get him round that way. All the little monkeys taking liberties with their sudden access to next door’s veg plot. Thank goodness I have such lovely neighbours. But we couldn’t get hold of Morris.

So with me climbing on the bench at the end of the garden, and leaning over the fence, the older kittens tried to show him how to jump. Flips and Aminah got on the shed roof and demonstrated how to jump across, but poor Morris was too scared.

rescue party

So Amigo went over and set up a game of chase encouraging Morris to race up some of the tress to build his confidence and climbing skills. Still no joy though Amigo did manage to retrieve a football that had been stuck in the back neighbour’s tree.

Came back inside and tried the waiting game … but still no Morris. So as it was going dark I went out in my jimjams with the step ladder to put over the fence. That adds more evidence to the neighbour’s estimation of me being the mad cat woman I guess, but I’m pleased to say that young Morris is now safely inside and in bed.

Congratulations Smudge – kits 6 weeks old today

Smudge is making a lovely job of being a mummy and her kits are growing up fast. Here they are on their 6 weeks birthday:

smokey spice smidgin and simba

Interesting, having very recently had Cassie and her kits, to see the differences. Both very good mums and happy healthy kittens. Cass was always snuggled with her kits and they took their time growing up. At gone 4 weeks they still hadn’t climbed out their flymo box, and 6 weeks were only just getting around to eating solids. This gang had their eyes open at less than a week old and young Spice, despite being the last born of the litter, was scrambling out of the basket at 3 weeks. They’re 6 weeks old today and have been tucking in to solid food for some time now. Oddly enough, it was little Smidgin, the only girl of the gang and the one who I was so worried about with not putting weight on in the early days who was way ahead of the others in starting on solids.

Sadly they’ve missed out on being headline news just recently with all the angst about Daisy and then Mog. Here are a few of the highlights of recent weeks.

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Friends Reunited

Fascinated by a couple of threads of life coming together this evening:

Bill: This is Lizzie’s cat who for reasons we talked about in a previous post is now coming to live with me. He’s been living in my bedroom for nearly two weeks now. I’ve worked on gradual exposure to the other residents and hangers on in the household. Started with swapping blankets to bring the different smells together, and then to short bursts of him coming downstairs to ‘mingle’, usually late at night when people are settling down for a snooze. It’s gone reasonably well so we decided today was the day to take the plunge and let him out for the first time. He padded straight off down the drive and I wondered if he was on his way back to Biff’s which is only a 5 minute walk away. But after a little while he came back, went off again in another direction, came back and hung around with the other cats quite happily for several hours.

bill and jango

I was a bit concerned that there may be some aggro between Bill and Jango, both big tom cats, but they seemed to be fine. Oddly enough the thing that upset Bill the most was little Morris. Morris just loves other cats and can’t resist running up to them and rubbing around them …. this freaked poor Bill who’s never experienced anything of the sort from Daisy.

Tom: This is the young man I took to be neutered yesterday. He went back to the cattery overnight after his op and the plan was to release him in the morning when he’d had chance to recover. Then because he was so friendly we re thought it and thought it would be better to keep him at the cattery and advertise for a home for him. I was going to go over to the cattery in the morning and get some photos of him for the advert. Unfortunately we didn’t communicate this to the person who went to feed him in the morning and they let him go! Then there was no sign of him all day.

bill and tom hanging out in the garden

Come the evening I’m pottering around in the kitchen and the cats are running in and out the house, and who do you think arrives for dinner? Yep – Tom! He was chatting to Bill a fair bit so I think they must remember each other from when they both used to hang out at Biff’s some years ago.

So Tom had his photo opportunity after all:

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More ups than downs …. just

It’s been a bit of a tough week with rescue politics and various crap. However there’s some good news.

Rocky is settling well into his new home. He loves his new humans and is having a very purry time. It was lovely to see the humans so excited about the new member of their family. This is one young man who has dropped on his feet.

playing with his new toys

chilling in the humans’ bed

The other good news is that the people I found who could get me onto the allotment to see to Mog are just lovely. Despite the allotments covering a huge area, their plot turns out to be one row away from where Mog hangs out, and their lovely dogs came from the same rescue that Mog did! How small a world is that?! Not only do I feel like I’ve found a way forward with Mog, I feel like I’ve made some new friends. I was able to feed Mog this evening, and put some Stronghold on her.

Have to say … the allotment holders have been lovely … lots of people concerned about Mog and willing to take my phone number in case they spot her and she’s not ok.

If that’s not enough good news and co incidence for now, I took a ginger stray to be neutered this morning. He’d been hanging out by Meers Cattery, Friends of Ferals got a neutering voucher from the RSPCA and I took him up to Peak Vet for his op. I’m pretty certain its Tom the ginger who hung out around my house for a while, and was hanging around Biff’s house a couple of years ago. He’s the most gorgeous ginger boy. Watch this space for more pics of him:

Shouting & Shuffling

Think those words more or less sum up the last week in the accidental household:

Biff phoned me Saturday morning with some of the worst news cat lovers can share: “Daisy has gone missing!” If Daisy is out more than 10 minutes at a time, and can’t be seen from the kitchen window, something is amiss. It seems there had been a scuffle in the night that Biff had turned a blind ear to in the belief that it was a rodent assassination. However given the absence of Daisy, poor Bill was suspected of foul play.

daisy with bill

There had been lots of other plans for the weekend, but everything put on hold whilst we searched for her. Over the next couple of days we did endless circuits of the estate, variously rattling boxes of treats, wafting the aroma of recently cooked fish, and in desperation putting up posters. Although my thoughts inevitably turned to the people who do awful things to cats, the people we met over the weekend were without exception absolutely lovely. Its an odd claim to fame but I believe by the end of the weekend I’d looked into and under more or less every shed on the estate. Realised just how many people around here have cats and care about them. Special thanks to the neighbour who spotted Daisy at gone midnight on Saturday and came over to let Biff know. That really gave us hope for Sunday’s search.

daisy in a more relaxed moment

I suspect I was shouting “Daisy” in my sleep that night. As to the “shuffling” …. Bill was exiled to my bedroom on Sunday just in case he stood guilty as charged with upsetting Daisy. I’m used to new furry people coming to stay … its like a hotel here – stacks of dishes, litter trays, beds etc. It’s surprising how odd it feels to have Biff’s boy to stay though.

bill

Thankfully Daisy turned up in the early hours of Monday morning. She’s not said what happened or where she’s been but she’s very frightened. She crawled under the bed covers and hid for a couple of days, then progressed to hiding under the throw on the sofa. Bill still in exile in my bedroom, and thoughts of him staying here long term. If he’s got any plans for bullying he’ll have them knocked out of him by my gang.

The other half of the shuffle is that we’re hoping that my Mog might move in with Biff and Daisy. Two timid girlies together might work out, once Daisy has had chance to settle from her ordeal.

It’s slightly happier news about Mog today. Thanks to Sheffield Forum we’ve found a lovely woman who will let us onto the allotments to find and feed Mog, and several kind people who know her on there have taken my number should she be in any trouble and need me. So we’ve been on there shouting “Mog .. Mooo .. og ….. Mo og” for a second time this week. It took more shouting than earlier in the week, but she came from more or less the same place and was fine. Not so hungry as last time, but had her picnic with us and purred a bit. Either she’s an excellent hunter or someone is feeding her. Thanks to some lovely people out there she’s going to be ok until we can find something more permanent for her.

my precious girl

if only they could talk …

It’s a bit of a cliche and one that I’ve questioned many times.  I’m really not sure I’d want them to talk – I can imagine a complex list of complaints about the smallest of details of what’s not right in their little hairy worlds, a stream of phone calls whilst I’m in Tesco with requests for ham, extra cheese, dreamies etc, and them blackmailing me to not divulge what I’ve muttered about the NHS in the privacy of my own home.   On the whole, their lack of chatter is something that goes in their favour as far as I’m concerned.

But sometimes ……….. sigh …… well ……… sometimes its different ………..

I adopted Mog over 2 years ago.   Still quite a young cat she’d been living outside in someone’s garden for several months before she came to me.   I thought she’d be really happy to have found herself a nice warm home, and indeed for the first couple of weeks while she had to stay in (until she was settled and had been spayed) she seemed it.  I live close to woods and allotments and since she’s been allowed out she’s spent more and more of her time over there.  She was the first cat I had after the Midgecat and it took some getting used to.  80% of the time when I got home from work Midgecat would be sitting in the window watching for me.  15% she’d come running to my car as I parked it.  4% she’d be nowhere to be seen, but by the time I’d got in the house, taken my coat off and put the kettle on she’d come crashing in through the cat flap.  That 1% when she’d not appeared by the time I’d made my coffee I’d start getting very anxious.   It’s been a nightmare of anxiety and rattling of treat boxes but Mog has slowly and painstakingly lengthened that period to approximately 4 days!

mog – out there somewhere

I say “approximately” – if its summer, nice and warm and dry I relax a bit and can manage almost a week without hysteria.  An absence of 5 days in the winter had me frantic, as did 10 days up to yesterday when I’d not seen her. Each time an expedition into the allotments has been necessary.

It’s a bit of an episode getting onto the allotments. Quite reasonably they’re secured by railings and padlocked gates. Through past adventures with lost cats we’ve met a couple of really kind cat loving allotment holders who have let us have access. We went off looking for them yesterday but neither of them at home. Finally managed to track down another person with a key and we set off with a food parcel for her.

Mog comes home so little that its easy to believe she simply doesn’t like us or want to be with us. But on this occasion as with the previous time we went to the allotments looking for her, she came when we called her. She seemed pleased to see us and scoffed the packed lunch we’d brought for her. Then after the pleasure of seeing each other again there comes the awkward moment of having to say goodbye. I daren’t grab her and take her home in case that stops her coming to me when I call her next time.

mog eating her packed lunch

Despite the allotments covering a huge area, and us having come in through a different gate both times we’ve done this, we’ve found her in the same spot each time, and she’s followed us quite a long distance to the gates each time – clearly wanting to be with us. But she knows her way home, her den on the allotments is almost visible from my road …. yet she doesn’t come home and doesn’t come when I call her from the road.

It’s hard to describe the awful feeling of leaving a cat you love and appears to love you, at the allotment gates, especially when its wet or cold.

heartbreak by the gates

And that’s where the talking comes in.   So many questions I want to ask about these absences, though it boils down to: “Are you stopping out on the allotments because you want to be on the allotments, or are you there because you’re not happy at home?”   If she just likes being out then fair enough, I don’t like it but I’ll learn to live with it.  But I want to know where she’s sleeping and what she’s eating and whether its safe. Ideally I’d like her to call me or text me daily (at least) to let me know she’s ok and/or if she needs anything. If she’s unhappy at home I will do anything in my power to make it better for her. Would she prefer her own Moggyflat in the conservatory?  Should I heat an outdoor kennel for her?  Would she like a new home with fewer cats?  I’d much rather have her here and happy, but if she’d prefer a different home I’d try to sort that for her.

In this instance I really do wish they could talk.