The Not So Simple Saga Of Friendly Cat

Those of you that actually give a damn might be aware that we own a cat, named Zero. Those of you that give more than a damn might be aware that we have varying degrees of acquaintance with numerous cats that hang out in our neighborhood. We have a tendency to name them Function/Personality Aspect-Cat. As in, the cat that had kittens but couldn’t take care of them is Lousy Mom Cat. The brown Siamese cross that hangs out by a maintanence door all day is Chocolate Cat, and the big one that lives at the hawker center and occupies an entire bench by himself is Huge Cat, and our favoritest of all, the friendliest cat in the neighborhood who is always chilled out and affectionate whenever she sees us is Friendly Cat.

Those of you who not only give more than damn but might experience an emotion resembling care may even be aware that recently, Thursday night, actually, we picked up Friendly Cat and officially added her to our crazed and artsey home.

The story goes something like this:

The Girlfriend has been wanting to adopt Friendly Cat for quite some time now, since we’ve seen her the neighborhood since we moved in 6 or so months ago. There’s always been some concern over the fact that our first and original cat, Zero, is, to the say the least, an antisocial motherfucker who fears and loathes anyone he doesn’t see on a regular basis, human or animal. This has been repeatedly proven as various cats have either been permanently introduced into the household (Like Bianca, who ran away) or temporarily, (In the case of Pathos, the little kitten we rescued a month or so back) to even Plea For Attention Cat, who was rescued after a vicious fight, shipped off to the SPCA and is doubtless dead by now.

The last straw on Thursday night came when, after mulling over “What if Friendly Cat has kittens like Lousy Mom Cat? What if she gets Cat AIDS? What if she gets hit by a car? What if some stupid young bored psycho takes her up to the roof, sets her on fire and throws her off (A real story, by the way…)?” we saw Friendly Cat being chased away from her usual bench by two black cats who may be new to the neighborhood. They cornered her under some bushes and we chased them off. The Girlfriend decided enough was enough and her favorite cat wasn’t about to be perpetually bullied by a couple of dorks trying to establish territory, so she decided it was high time Friendly Cat had a proper home, and tonight was the time.

I stuck around while she went off to get the cat carrier. When she came back, it was almost eerie how Friendly Cat seemed to have expected all this. She was sitting on the table. The carrier was placed in front of her and door was unlatched and open. Friendly Cat just walked in and sat down. That was that.

We carried her back home and where every other cat we’ve put in the cage mewed like crazy, Friendly Cat made nary a sound, watching the world pass by with big, curious but calm eyes. At home, after a quick introduction to Zero which consisted of her hissing and growling from the cage and he hissing and growling from the rug, we placed her in her new room. She came out of the cage after a few cautious minutes of sniffing and promptly hopped on the washing machine, claiming it as her bed.

And that, we thought, was that.

We alternated between Zero and Friendly Cat running around the house while the other was confined somewhere, and, unlike Zero, Friendly Cat in true feline fashion has a thing for heights and prefers window ledges and tables, as is evinced in this “pre-op” photo here:

“But wait,” you ask. “Did you just say ‘pre-op?’ What the bloody blue blazes do you mean by that?”

I’m getting to that.

There was going to be the usual House Cat-i-zation process that involved a check up to make sure she was in good health, her first series of vaccinations, test for Cat AIDS, deworming pill rammed down her throat, the appointment for her spaying and possibly a grooming at the hands of a professional since she’s been on the streets all her life and could probably benefit from a bath.

The check up went off without a hitch and we found out that Friendly Cat was between 1-2 years, they couldn’t place it anymore than that, only that she’s relatively recent to adulthood.

Yesterday, while I was over at Playworks, the girlfriend noticed Friendly Cat licking at her right rear thigh (Okay, her right ass cheek) and when she looked, she noticed that Friendly Cat had pus coming out of what appeared to be two bite marks. She brought Friendly Cat to the vet again, and after an examination it was determined that probably due to the fight she’d just been rescued from the day before, Friendly Cat had been bitten three times, and that the wound had become infected and was now an abscess that needed to be lanced.

Which was done, last night, at the Vet’s.

Friendly Cat is now sleeping in the laundry room, miserable and looking utterly hilarious in her plastic cone thingy to keep her from licking at the wound. We have to use a cotten swab to clean the wound twice a day with antiseptic, then powder it down with antibiotic, as well as ram a pill down her throat twice a day.

This is Friendly Cat, post-op, as of now:

And the abscessed wound in question. I’m sure you’re all eager to see that…

So the final count is one geeky writer, one crazed artist, one anti-social Siamese Cross and one post-op cat with a stupid plastic cone around her head. And they say the traditional family unit is dead…