If I have an older cat show up, I always ask them their name. Whatever pops into my head is what they almost always end up answering to. (Like Joshua, a large gray tabby, Misty, a calico, and Tristan, a part Bengal boy all “told” me their names when Dixie brought them to me.) The inside cats were all small kittens when we got them, so their names were a bit different. Leo is named Kisten Leonardo after my favorite character in Kim Harrison’s Hollow series and the fact that Glenda thought he looked like a little gray lion in a tux. Rosie’s full name is Theodore Roosevelt. He was named partially after my Teddy-bear who died a few days before he was born, and partially because Glenda wanted “flower names” for his litter. (His mother’s name was Tyger-Lilly.) Martie, Martin Gabriel, was named because Glenda liked the idea of giving the kittens names starting with the same letter as their mother’s name. Since the mother was Morgan, we ended up with Martin and Megan. (Megan, unfortunately vanished before we could bring her home. Morgan found a home with someone else in the plant.) McDuff, Rory McDuff, was named because he “roared” the entire way home after I found him in a parking lot, again, at work. We had several “Shakespearean” cats at the time, so I went with McDuff from the play Macbeth as a middle name. Paris, Paris Jon, was named because Glenda likes to give city names if she isn’t sure of gender. (His sister is Sydney.) Jon came because he looks and acts a lot like a cat we had years ago named Jonny Marie. (We thought she was a boy until she had kittens, so she was originally named for Johnny Depp. Peta, Peta Joy, was named after Pru, who’s full name was Prudence Jane. Glenda wanted to keep the initials the same, and Peta means “beloved.” (Don’t ask me what language, that’s Glenda’s strong suit, not mine.) The colony kitties are too numerous to go into here, honestly, and, again, most of them told us their names.
Hopefully our next set will go a bit smoother, now that they’ve at least dealt with two ferals. I’m hoping to get a couple more done, soon, but I still have more work to do with them to get them to the point where I can trap them. That’s why Misha and Shadow went first – they’re two of the friendlier kids in the colony.
The only issue we had with the vet, once I finally got to talk to her, was an argument over “tipping” their ears. I’ve dealt with too many ferals where the ears were “tipped” incorrectly and they had problems with their ears for the rest of their lives, so I don’t let them do it for ours. She finally agreed to just doing a tattoo to show that they had already had the surgery. I don’t think she has had much experience with TNR, so she was just looking at what the book said to do.
Yep of our semi-feral cats were TNR’d yesterday. (Misha and Shadow) Everything went well and they are both acting like their usual selves this morning. It has been amazingly difficult to get this vet’s office to understand the concept of feral, though. They kept asking if the kids would be kept inside after surgery – no, they’re still feral, they are returning to their colony. “Why do you need to board them with us overnight before the surgery?” Again, their feral cats, I can’t guarantee that Ican catch them the day is surgery or that they won’t eat after the cutoff time if they aren’t already in place. “They’re not very friendly with new people, are they?” One more time – they are FERAL CATS. They aren’t exactly “friendly” with anybody!
We’re going to let him go. He keeps just keeps crashing, and I really think that the seizures are going to start, soon. I hate to have to do it, but I don’t want him to be in agony like Joey was, either.
Update – they’re keeping him overnight and I will come back for him in the morning. I just got to thinking, though, he reminds me of Horatio’s sister, just with how floppy he is and his issues regulating his temperature. She also had dual cerebellar hyperplasia, but it hit her harder than it did Horatio. We lost her at only two months old because of the complications. (Cats that only have it from one parent can live perfectly normal lives, they just have problems with balance, leading to the layman’s term of “floppy kitten syndrome.” The ones with the gene coming from both parents very rarely make it to adulthood.)
The vet just came back in and told us that he’s in an oxygen tent and they’ve started i.v. dextrose to try to bring his blood sugar levels back up. (He’s at 49 right now, which is almost coma level.)
If I have an older cat show up, I always ask them their name. Whatever pops into my head is what they almost always end up answering to. (Like Joshua, a large gray tabby, Misty, a calico, and Tristan, a part Bengal boy all “told” me their names when Dixie brought them to me.) The inside cats were all small kittens when we got them, so their names were a bit different. Leo is named Kisten Leonardo after my favorite character in Kim Harrison’s Hollow series and the fact that Glenda thought he looked like a little gray lion in a tux. Rosie’s full name is Theodore Roosevelt. He was named partially after my Teddy-bear who died a few days before he was born, and partially because Glenda wanted “flower names” for his litter. (His mother’s name was Tyger-Lilly.) Martie, Martin Gabriel, was named because Glenda liked the idea of giving the kittens names starting with the same letter as their mother’s name. Since the mother was Morgan, we ended up with Martin and Megan. (Megan, unfortunately vanished before we could bring her home. Morgan found a home with someone else in the plant.) McDuff, Rory McDuff, was named because he “roared” the entire way home after I found him in a parking lot, again, at work. We had several “Shakespearean” cats at the time, so I went with McDuff from the play Macbeth as a middle name. Paris, Paris Jon, was named because Glenda likes to give city names if she isn’t sure of gender. (His sister is Sydney.) Jon came because he looks and acts a lot like a cat we had years ago named Jonny Marie. (We thought she was a boy until she had kittens, so she was originally named for Johnny Depp. Peta, Peta Joy, was named after Pru, who’s full name was Prudence Jane. Glenda wanted to keep the initials the same, and Peta means “beloved.” (Don’t ask me what language, that’s Glenda’s strong suit, not mine.) The colony kitties are too numerous to go into here, honestly, and, again, most of them told us their names.