"Harry Krause" wrote in message

All our cats were "rescued."


Same here. About 7 years ago, we adopted a tabby from an MSPCA shelter
nearby in MA, to complement our [late] 90lb Elkhound/Samoyed mix that we had
adopted a couple of years before in Fairfax County. As soon as we opened
the cage at the shelter to check him out, he jumped up on my son (about 11
at the time), laid his head right against his neck, and started to purr so
loudly the whole room stopped and turned. That was a no-brainer! He is
still my son's cat, and is having a hard time acclimatizing to his absence
at UMass. About a year or so later, in April, I was at the vet buying yet
another very large sack of dog food when I noticed a cat wandering along the
walls that they had for adoption. This cat was still half-shaved and
limping from surgery, and of an obviously foul disposition -- most
unfriendly!! Immediately recognizing a kindred spirit, I inquired re the
particulars. Seems the critter (probably feral at the time) had been
brought to the vets door on New Years Eve by a motorist who had hit him. Two
broken legs, fractured pelvis, plus some internal damage. In the process,
our friend bit one of the vet techs. Through some combination of MA legal
requirements and the fact that it was a holiday evening, it was determined
that they had to try to keep him alive over the weekend until the
appropriate Mass office reopened to give them permission to perform the
rabies test. Dave (the vet) decided that if they had to try to keep him
alive, he would give his surgical staff a training environment, and try to
save him outright, which they did. Pins in one leg and pelvis, internal
repairs through surgery, R&R at Dave's own home for a couple of months,
follow-up procedures, then up for adoption at Dave's clinic. By this time
our friend, who had been named 'Oscar the Grouch' by the staff for good
solid reasons, had had quite enough of TLC, was a truly nasty SOB, and of
little use as a pet for kids. I figured we'd get along just fine. I
brought him home [shocking the bejesus out of my wife and kids] and he went
under the sofa for three days. For about 6 months he would beat the crap
out of Oslo, the elkhound, at any opportunity, and was not particularly
friendly at all. After eighteen months we heard our first tentative
purring, and now, 5-6 years later, he is a total wuss, purrs and kneads all
the time, and has become the most dedicated lap cat in existence. Oslo the
dog was lost to a brain tumor a few years ago, but the two cats now do an
admirable job of holding down the furniture during the day, and entertain us
with their WWF re-enactment at least three times a week. Ah,.... the good
life....