Where he came from:
Back in February, 2006, I was wandering through PetSmart. I make a point of never looking at the cats and kittens they have in cages for adoption because I can't bear it. But, for some reason, this time, I noticed a cage, way up on the top row, with a bunch of cartons and boxes in front of it - you could see the corner of the cage, and the note about the cat inside, but not the actual cat. The note said that his name was "Jerry", that he belonged to the Humane Society, and that he had been brought to them when his family was being evicted. He'd been "swept up" with 30 other cats. It also mentioned that he was "exotic looking." And for some reason, I just HAD to see him. So I shoved the boxes aside and stood on my tiptoes, and looked inside the cage, where I saw the most pitiful little animal I have ever seen. He was literally just skin and bones. He would have been white, except for the urine stains that covered every inch of his body. His eyes were oozing black stuff. His back knees banged together when he tried to walk. Even through the glass, I could see that he was having trouble breathing. I looked again at the cage tag, and noticed that it said he was 7 months old and weighed three and a half pounds. It made my heart hurt just to look at him. I already had three cats and a husband who carries on like a maniac every time a new cat shows up at the door.
When I went to check out, I said to the cashier, "That little white cat on the top row is sick. Isn't there someone to look at him?" And she said, "Oh, I'll go look." And she wandered off toward the back of the store. And for the rest of the evening, all I could think about was that pitiful kitten. I called the store manager when I got home and said that the cat was clearly sick, and what were they going to do for him? She said that she'd contact the Humane Society. I asked for the name of the person in charge of the HS adoption program, and then I called her and left a message. The next day, I went back to PetSmart, and got the manager to get little Jerry out of his cage and let me visit with him. It was even more awful than looking at him. He could hardly walk. He cried when he jumped down. He cried when you touched him. His breathing was ragged. His eyes were a mess. Every bone in his body stuck out. I said to the manager, "You are going to send him back to the Humane Society for medical care, right?" She said, "Oh, yes. I'll call them as soon as you leave." When I got home, the woman from the Humane Society had called and left a message. She announced that the PetSmart manager did NOT feel that Jerry needed medical care. I almost fell on the floor. The HS woman then said that they had a "very qualified volunteer" who visits the caged cats every night, and this person would be asked to make a decision on whether or not Jerry gets seen by a vet. I asked her if I could just take him long enough for my own vet to see him. She said no. I was pretty sure that he'd still be sitting in his cage at PetSmart the next day....
And he was. I absolutely could not leave him there. Aside from the terrible condition he was in, he was putting all the other cats and kittens at risk. On February 8, 2006, I told the manager to get him out of the cage. I paid his fee, put him in the car, and drove straight to my vet. He said that Jerry - hated that name! - had lost more than a third of his muscle mass because of malnutrition. He had severe conjunctivitis, most likely feline herpes, and a severe upper respiratory infection. He was shocked that a cat in that condition had been neutered three days before and then stuck in a cage at PetSmart. He gave me antibiotics and eye medication and instructions to feed him by syringe every two hours with a high calorie canned food. I started with AD, but he wasn't crazy about it. He loved the EVO canned, though, and soon was eating - on his own - two five ounce cans a day. His nose dripped constantly, even after he started living like a normal cat. He loved to wander around and see where all the other cats were so he could smash up against them. He never laid down without having a paw on someone.
And he is a wonderful cat. He has the sweetest personality. He sits on my chest and just stares into my eyes. He loves to snuggle. You never see him alone. He is always mashed up against either me, or one of the other cats. He seems to have such a need to touch them. He is such a tender little guy. He pats my cheek. He loves to hop up and wedge himself into my elbow and nap. I am absolutely besotted with him. I never wanted a white cat - too much pink. But he was absolutely the most loving little cat ever. His back legs were a little weak in the beginning, but as he began to eat better and more, he got stronger. Within a matter of months, he could hop from the floor to the top of the cat tree. It was wonderful. Having him around was such a sweet experience. My husband, who refused to even look at little Milkshake for two weeks, suddenly realized what a charmer he was, and began reporting to me every day about all the smart things he was doing. It just seemed like everything was about as good as it could be for us and for Milk.
