A Foggy, Uncomfortable Place

It could be the upcoming change in seasons, but lately I’ve experienced a series of disturbing events that make easing into a purposeful post difficult. Instead you get to feel uncomfortable with me. Obviously, what I need is a sanctuary. I’d even settle for a tree house.

Dear reader, I’ll just get to the point. The other day, I woke up to maggots on my kitchen floor. Not what you were expecting? Me, either. Imagine my shock when I saw these mealy, wormy maggots, curling and unfurling, and standing up on their own. These creatures from the nether world had invaded my kitchen. I felt disgusted and dirty, and wanted to bleach and scrub everything out of existence. Maggots are unsettling to me and unwelcome in my house. This is no way to start the day either. Are you feeling grossed out? I hope you weren’t eating anything.

How could this happen? I recalled that a few days before I had a tossed a bag of rancid potatoes into my garbage. Big mistake, as I should have thrown them outside. I cringe at the thought that I almost used these potatoes in my beef stew. Luckily, I had my senses about me, took one whiff of their foulness and tossed them outright, even though I just bought them the previous day at the discount grocery superstore, the same store where I sighted moldy cheese on the shelves. I’m not shopping there anymore.

Now I must purchase a new trash can, as the other one cannot be recovered, and avoid the outside trashcan at all costs until trash day on Thursday, which couldn’t be here fast enough.

Later that day, I talked to my mother who had just undergone a surgical procedure in which she shared an upsetting story about the medical care she received. She told the hospital staff that the anesthetic they wanted to give her had not worked in the past. Instead of listening to her, they gave it to her anyway. So, she spent of the remainder of the procedure feeling a lot pain she shouldn’t have experienced, among other things that went wrong. In this case, the healthcare system failed her by simply not listening, casting her off as elderly woman who doesn’t know better. My mother had been a practicing nurse for over forty years. Do you think they could have at least had the decency to listen?

On another note, increasingly my seven-year-old son dreads going to school, hates it, in fact. I didn’t feel this way about school until at least high school. Why is this happening so early? What action do I need to take to keep him on track? I have this feeling I must turn it all around now, today.

At the end of my evening, I turned on my kitchen light to see our pet hamster, Little Claws, being chased by two of our cats. Why wasn’t he in his cage? Who left him out? And, here I thought they were all friends. Now, I will never trust the cats alone with the hamster again. I nearly had a dead pet on my hands, mauled to pieces. No, thankfully, this didn’t happen.

It’s both heavy and light, but everything unsettling. I’m writing a creepy story and maybe I can tap into this. I’m waking up at 5:00 am to write in the quiet of the morning when I am alone with my thoughts and have not yet spoken to anyone. It’s a treasured time, although a little foggy, but I think the closest I have to a sanctuary.

Maybe what I need at a time like this is a nice bouquet of flowers. Here’s a pleasant thought. I don’t even care that the cut flowers are slowly dying, slowing dying in a vase, and if neglected, may result in a lot of muck and bugs. On second thought, I’ll pass. I think I prefer the smell of bleach.

Fat Kitty City: A Special Place

I visited an enchanting place today. It’s called Fat Kitty City and it’s the only cat sanctuary in all of Northern California. My family and I took our kitty Spud to the sanctuary to get neutered.

Spud looked a little worried, but I know he’s in good hands. We met Spud at the local pet store where Fat Kitty City brings cats for adoption.

Little Spud; also known as Spuds, Spuddy, Spudley, Spudinsky, Spudman or just Tater. His secret name must be Butterscotch although he would never tell.

Their sanctuary is magical, nestled in the hills, down a windy narrow lane, about two miles from the main road. Cats roam freely here inside a spacious gated property. There are about 180 cats, with approximately 25 feral cats who wander outside the gate. The feral cats, of course, know it is their home and probably would not survive anywhere else.

Ed and Cindy, a husband and wife team, live in a house adjacent to the property. Together, along with many volunteers, they care for the cats and kittens and provide medical services, food, shelter, and a place for these cats to call home. While many of the cats seemed happy and adjusted, I’m sure they would love to have a forever home. Some are permanent residents due to their physical needs and conditions. Ed and Cindy know all their cats by name, with the exception of eight of the feral cats.

A success story that’s hard to ignore

Winner, miracle cat, won my heart.

Meet Winner. He pulled at my heartstrings. A woman phoned into the sanctuary one day to report about an abused, tortured cat. Someone had poured gasoline on him. When he arrived, his ear was hanging off and bloodied, and they thought he might lose his eye. He also had bloody cuts on his back. He was in such bad shape, the sanctuary could not yet release a photo of him on their website.

I met him three weeks after the sanctuary rescued him from his ordeal. I seriously bonded with him in a matter of minutes, petting his chin, followed by his purr and a throaty, cracking meow.  He was still recovering then, with a bloody ear and scabs on his back. With a lot of TLC and medical assistance, Winner pulled through. His progress was nothing short of a miracle. I find it amazing that Winner still trusts humans at all.

I considered adopting him, although I’m not sure how he would fare living with my two young boys. He seemed a little jittery around them. But, indeed, he is a Winner.

Kitties of all kinds

Ed likes to joke that they have all kinds, both the pretty and the ugly. Yes, some have nicked ears or are missing eyes or tails. Most cats here are older, but sometimes there are kittens.

Bosco, the elder, is 97 in human years.

The oldest cat living on the property is Bosco. He is over twenty years old, although they are not entirely certain. He eats just wet food now since he has no teeth.

Ginger narrowly escaped death.

Meet Ginger who was gloriously saved. She had only 15 minutes to live before she would have been put to death. The sanctuary came to her rescue when she was nine months old. I learned that the cats at shelters around here only have about two days to land a home. They give cats with special circumstances more time. Ginger is almost two years old.

When you arrive at the sanctuary, cats greet you slowly and warmly. You pet one, and then a few more. Within a few minutes, they surround you, following you around on the grounds. I understand that when they feed them at dusk, all the sleepy ones wake up, and more than one hundred cats are at your feet. That would be something to behold. I may have to return for that. You leave feeling as though you have made a few friends.

Please visit their website at fatkittycity.org for more information.