Saturday for Strays

“No good deed goes unpunished” I told the lady standing at the door of the clinic today. The clinic is closed on the weekends; I had stopped in Saturday afternoon to get some forms printed out for church. As I sat in my office, at the computer, I thought I heard a muted “tap, tap, tap”. I listened, there it was again. I was alone, it was late afternoon and I had no one to help me. Due to my physical disability, I was hesitant to answer the door, yet the noise persisted.

I decided to go see who was tap, tap, tapping at my door. As I rounded the corner, I saw a lady walking down the front steps. I looked down and there was a box, covered with a towel, on the stoop! I knew that meant something dead or alive. So I unlocked the door, just as the lady was driving away. Angry that another person had just dumped an animal at the clinic (not an unusual incident), I hollered “Hey, come back here!” I was surprised when she did.

I peeked under the towel as she got out of her car. There were three newborn kittens; two dead and stiff and one, nearly dead, barely moving. I listened to her long story of a stray cat who disappeared after having these kittens under the neighbor's porch. I then explained to the lady the various options available to us. Everything I suggested was met with “I can’t do that because…” And of course, there was no money to pay for anything. The lady kept saying “I was only trying to do the right thing” when I answered her with the above statement.

Frustrated and tired, I looked into the box and knew I had to take care of this poor creature, so I told her I would put him to sleep and pay for the cremation myself. I realized that the above statement about good deeds applied to myself. My husband had just given me the “no more charity, the clinic has to make money” lecture last week, one of his favorites. Oh, well, what can a poor animal doc do?

Vincent is the most recent addition to our home menagerie. He showed up at the clinic the day before Thanksgiving last year; he was so tiny that he barely fit in the palm of your hand. He appeared to be about 4-5 weeks old; too young to be weaned, Vincent had a hearty appetite from day one.

Ray fell in love with him, so we took Vincent home at Christmas. He had to get big enough to fend for himself with all our other critters. It was time for a kitten; our four other kitties are 10-14 years old.

We had forgotten how wild and crazy and just plain fun kittens are! Vincent certainly keeps everyone at home in an uproar. However, it is unusually quiet since yesterday. Vincent is at the clinic; Dr. Scott, CVC's surgeon, neutered and declawed Vince yesterday. Today when I came in, Vincent was sooo happy to see me. He is doing great and eating like a little piglet.

I will keep Vince at the clinic for a few days to allow his feet to begin healing before I take him home. We all miss our little buddy!