"NO GOOD DEED

goes unpunished.”  Boy, Judge Judy sure says it concisely.  I’ve heard her on numerous occasions, sharing this golden oldie, along with a couple of other sayings, which I don’t hear as often, one of which is, “Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining.”  I like that one too.  I have to say she has reality nailed down pretty tightly.

What precipitates my sudden onset of cynicism and jadedness you ask?  Well, tonight I tried to save a cat.  Uh huh, a cat who obviously did not want to be saved, to which my various scratches and one rather jagged thumb puncture will attest.

Hmmm, so how did that situation evolve?  During my daily walks in SCA, oh for about the past month or so, when Sofie, The Wonder Dog and I would get to a certain area, near the Wood Shop, a little brown striped tabby would make a run for us.  At first, I was apprehensive that she (and no, I didn’t get to check that as fact), would take a swipe at Sofie and I shooed her away.  After all, they are both around the same size, at least height-wise.  Sofie’s a bit longer, I think.  If I had to choose who would emerge the victor in a confrontation, the cat would win hands down. No wonder with the shredders they have at their fingertips.

Pretty soon, Puss Puss, as I had started to think of her, would inevitably appear every time we went that way and she would stalk us for a good piece down the road, trailing us respectfully, not too far behind.  I felt honoured that she liked us enough to do that.  Being owned by three mature felines, all strays who have been rescued by a local shelter and adopted by me in two moments of insanity, I can honestly say that I understand cat behaviour more than the average joe.

A few weeks go by.  Sometimes, she doesn’t appear and I start to worry (natch!) that something, like a coyote for instance (see my earlier story, Sandycove, The New Wild West) managed to catch her napping and make a meal out of her. 

I speak to a few of the people who live in her neighbourhood and it turns out that Puss Puss seems to be known to most of them.  All of them, like me, are worried about her and the fast approaching cold, wet weather.  One man I speak with, Randy, really likes Puss Puss but says it’s up to his wife, Esther, as to whether or not she’ll get taken in by them.  He’s concerned about their upcoming annual road trip to Florida for the winter and being able to overnight with a cat in a motel.  I’m not quite sure why, they have two dogs, Chihuahuas both and they travel fine with them.  So, what’s one more?

The other night I meandered over to the Wood Shop for my weekly dose of carving and the company of two old codgers, whom I have grown rather fond of, over the past couple of years.  Both in their eighties, I feel oh so young and limber when I hang around with them.  Even with hearing aids, the one old fart doesn’t hear very well and when you talk to him, full volume is required.  Some of the conversations are rather interesting but grotty as I get to listen about prostrate problems, heart attacks, having to get up 5 or 6 times a night to pee.  Sometimes I think they don’t remember I’m there.  Oh and gotta love the special viewings of extra long, extra, extra thick and yellowed, raggedy toes nails in ancient sandals.  Gosh, can winter come soon enough to hide those suckers?    

As I get out of my car and gather my things for the trek into the Wood Shop, I see Esther striding down Lake Trout Lane and it sure looks like she’s searching for Puss Puss.  I called over to her and asked her if she was going to take Puss Puss in and give her a forever home.  She said she couldn’t because they go to Florida every year.  I still don’t get that logic. 

After carving’s finished, the two men enjoy their ‘guy’ time by sipping on really bad cups of instant coffee, black (no cream ‘cause there just wasn’t any and usually isn’t).  They always ask me if I want a cup and I always decline.  I drink instant at home but can’t stomach the thought of drinking the ink they call coffee.   I drive home and formulate a plan to help Puss Puss find a forever home.

I call a new friend of mine, Lorna, when I get home and explain about seeing Puss Puss again and ask her if she was serious about taking her in (I had filled Lorna in a few days earlier), if we could catch her.  Lorna, who has had cats in the past seems to be a bit hesitant, I think because of her dog, Nyla but concurs that Puss Puss probably won’t make it through the winter.  We agree that the capture would be attempted two nights hence and make a plan to meet around 6:00 p.m.

Life changed that evening and hasn’t been the same since.

To Be Continued …

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