We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-i-fornia - heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
I knew that the 911 operator would send help for me. She just had to. Remember all those old shows that showed firefighters rescuing cats out of trees?
And besides, I didn't know what the heck else to do but call.
"Allegheny County 911, what is your emergency?" the female dispatcher's voice said as I nervously paced along my front lawn, after checking out the second-floor window to the kittens' room. It was just after midnight on Sunday.
"Can you hear me?" I said.
"Yes, maam," she replied. "What is your emergency?"
"This is a weird call," I warned her. I then explained the peculiar - but, to me, scary - nature of my emergency.
"I have a litter of kittens trapped in an upstairs bedroom," I said. "They knocked down this baby gate inside their room, and the gate wedged itself against the door. It's stuck, and I can't get in. And the only other way in to this room is through my upstairs window. And I don't have a ladder!"
Now, I know that 911 operators surely have had far more bizarre calls than this one. Still, I could hear her confusion during a pregnant pause.
"Let me make sure I understand," the operator continued. "You said kittens are trapped in a room because of a baby gate?"
"Yes," I confirmed. "They have a baby gate just behind the door to keep them from running out of the room, and they knocked it over, so it's stuck between the door and the bookcase. And I have no way to get to them. They're really small!"
Just minutes before, I was heading upstairs with the kittens' goodnight dinner of canned chicken and ocean whitefish food when I made the scary discovery. The door would not budge. So that was the thud I had heard while watching TV!
Trying not to panic, I started kicking at the door, hoping to dislodge the gate - but scared of hurting the kittens, whom I could see eyeing me curiously through the little crack I managed to create. But that's as far as the gate would go. I could not reach my arm inside. And after kicking several times, I could hear the wood start to splinter on the bottom left corner, by the hinge.
"Help me, Jesus!" I prayed. "Help me break into the room without causing severe damage to my house."
The only other option, I knew, was somehow climbing up a steep ladder, squeezing myself through the long, skinny, upstairs window, and jumping down, hoping not to break anything or land on a kitten. The phrase "between a rock and a hard place" came to mind.
I felt relieved when the operator responded.
"Alright, maam," she said. "They said they'll come over to help."
I was expecting to see a fire truck, but instead, a police car pulled up to the curb, and a nice young officer stepped out.
"Thank you so much for coming, officer!" I said. He took a look at my outside window, and then asked to look at the inside, because he didn't want to call the fire department unless necessary.
I showed Officer Friendly inside and up the stairs. He started doing the same thing I was - kicking at the door - but he's a strong guy, and I worked on pushing in the upper portion, while he kicked the bottom. I told him, while he worked, that this must be one of the weirdest calls he's had in awhile.
"Oh, you'd be surprised," he said. "We get a lot of calls like this."
"This" probably meant calls about animals, or people being trapped. I'll bet this particular circumstance was unique.
After a couple of minutes, he barely snaked his hand through the door, and pulled up the gate.
"Hallelujiah!" I exclaimed, just thrilled to see the kittens' sweet faces, safe and sound. And to see this incident end without having to file a homeowner's insurance claim (one that would probably be denied, anyway).
I thanked the officer profusely and gave him a hug.
"You're the best," I said.
Then, I went upstairs to play and cuddle with my four new babies, whom I named with a chocolate motif (read my last posting for more about that.) I have Truffle and Bon-Bon (black and white males), Meltaway (orange and black male) and Lady Godiva (orange female.)
And from now on, their gate - meant to catch them when they burst out of the open door and run under my legs - will remain outside the room, to create a holding pen for kitten overflow.
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Like a Box of Chocolates
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-i-fornia - heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
Forrest Gump, in his childlike wisdom, gave us many good lines in that wonderful 1994 movie. And in a conversation yesterday with a friend, I used one of Gump's witticisms to talk about fostering.
"Kittens are like a box of chocolates," I told my friend, Lane. "You never know what you're going to get."
Indeed. And tonight, I will be picking up my first "box of chocolates" of the season from the Humane Society, and I am excited with the wonder and mystery of what the box will contain. Will I get orphans, or kittens with a mom? How many babies will there be? And the most intriguing question is, what will they look like? Will I get orange or brown tabbies? Black kittens? White kittens? Tuxedos? Grays? Or something else?
Will the "box of chocolates" all be, say, peanut butter meltaway tabbies, or will it be one of those variety packs with some peanut butter, some caramel, some nutty, some raspberry creme, and others?
I'll find out soon enough tonight, and I can't wait. Mama C will report back very soon!
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks!
Forrest Gump, in his childlike wisdom, gave us many good lines in that wonderful 1994 movie. And in a conversation yesterday with a friend, I used one of Gump's witticisms to talk about fostering.
"Kittens are like a box of chocolates," I told my friend, Lane. "You never know what you're going to get."
Indeed. And tonight, I will be picking up my first "box of chocolates" of the season from the Humane Society, and I am excited with the wonder and mystery of what the box will contain. Will I get orphans, or kittens with a mom? How many babies will there be? And the most intriguing question is, what will they look like? Will I get orange or brown tabbies? Black kittens? White kittens? Tuxedos? Grays? Or something else?
Will the "box of chocolates" all be, say, peanut butter meltaway tabbies, or will it be one of those variety packs with some peanut butter, some caramel, some nutty, some raspberry creme, and others?
I'll find out soon enough tonight, and I can't wait. Mama C will report back very soon!
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Um, Sorry ... Do We Know You?
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-i-fornia, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
I am thrilled to report that the two "handsome, single studs," as reported in my last post, have found their forever home - TOGETHER! Yes, the Good Lord has answered my prayer in exactly the way I had hoped: He found a lovely home for both Kitty and Simba, who are now enjoying their spacious house in a southern Pittsburgh suburb with a nice family, after spending nearly a year in my guest bedroom.
And though I celebrate the cats' good fortune and happy future, I must admit that, selfishly, I felt a bit swatted in the face when I visited Kitty and Simba in their new home last week. See, it seems as if Mother Catresa already has been forgotten.
I went to the new owner's home to drop off some paperwork - which I could have easily mailed, but I wanted to see the kitties one more time. The kind, hospitable owners showed me inside - and, just like he often did at my house, Kitty was hiding under the bed. Simba, on the other paw, was crouching under the dining room table, on top of a chair.
"Simba, old buddy!" I exclaimed, as I stretched out my hand toward him, and said "Come here, come here!"
Simba jumped down, looked up at me with seeming recognition, let out a little squeak, and lifted his nose, so I could pet it. But just as my hand touched his face, he bolted and ran down the hallway, making a beeline for the underbed world where his buddy awaited.
"Well, you ungrateful ratfink," I grumbled.
I followed Simba into the room, got down on my knees, lifted the bedskirt and peeked underneath - hoping, in vain, to summon out Kitty and Simba. But no such luck. Just like they did at my house when they were frightened, they just stared at me, and refused to budge.
I jokingly said, "Oh gee, so this is the thanks I get? Foster mommy comes to see them again, and they don't even want to interact with me? Niiice."
When I realized the cats weren't coming out, it dawned on me: perhaps I am like a nurse in the ICU. I may have saved and nurtured my patients, and they are grateful: however, I remind them of a traumatic time in their lives. After all, these boys met Mother Catresa when their old mama gave them up, and they lost the only home they knew. I'm sure they love me, in a way. But, let's face it: I am a reminder of hard times, and who wants to revisit that?
Chances are, Simba saw me - and Kitty, heard me - and they thought that the big, bad lady was back with the cat carrier, waiting to snatch them and take them back to the Petsmart cage. Again. That's what the cats probably associate me with - and really, who can blame them?
Well, Mother Catresa understands. This is just part of the work I do: letting go. Just like I remember all of my dozens of foster kittens over the years; but, if I saw them now, they probably would have no idea who I was. (Their adult selves, incidentally, would look quite different than the kittens I knew, too).
And that's OK. I can live with that. Because even if they don't remember me, all of my furry alumni will forever dwell in my memory. And my role as a foster, really, is to prepare the kitties to be someone else's pet. Just like a parent's role is to prepare a child for adulthood. It ain't easy, but someone has to do it, right?
I kept that in mind as I gave the family a warm "thank you" and wished them well, walked out to my car, and drove off - watching the road through my misty eyes.
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks!
I am thrilled to report that the two "handsome, single studs," as reported in my last post, have found their forever home - TOGETHER! Yes, the Good Lord has answered my prayer in exactly the way I had hoped: He found a lovely home for both Kitty and Simba, who are now enjoying their spacious house in a southern Pittsburgh suburb with a nice family, after spending nearly a year in my guest bedroom.
And though I celebrate the cats' good fortune and happy future, I must admit that, selfishly, I felt a bit swatted in the face when I visited Kitty and Simba in their new home last week. See, it seems as if Mother Catresa already has been forgotten.
I went to the new owner's home to drop off some paperwork - which I could have easily mailed, but I wanted to see the kitties one more time. The kind, hospitable owners showed me inside - and, just like he often did at my house, Kitty was hiding under the bed. Simba, on the other paw, was crouching under the dining room table, on top of a chair.
"Simba, old buddy!" I exclaimed, as I stretched out my hand toward him, and said "Come here, come here!"
Simba jumped down, looked up at me with seeming recognition, let out a little squeak, and lifted his nose, so I could pet it. But just as my hand touched his face, he bolted and ran down the hallway, making a beeline for the underbed world where his buddy awaited.
"Well, you ungrateful ratfink," I grumbled.
I followed Simba into the room, got down on my knees, lifted the bedskirt and peeked underneath - hoping, in vain, to summon out Kitty and Simba. But no such luck. Just like they did at my house when they were frightened, they just stared at me, and refused to budge.
I jokingly said, "Oh gee, so this is the thanks I get? Foster mommy comes to see them again, and they don't even want to interact with me? Niiice."
When I realized the cats weren't coming out, it dawned on me: perhaps I am like a nurse in the ICU. I may have saved and nurtured my patients, and they are grateful: however, I remind them of a traumatic time in their lives. After all, these boys met Mother Catresa when their old mama gave them up, and they lost the only home they knew. I'm sure they love me, in a way. But, let's face it: I am a reminder of hard times, and who wants to revisit that?
Chances are, Simba saw me - and Kitty, heard me - and they thought that the big, bad lady was back with the cat carrier, waiting to snatch them and take them back to the Petsmart cage. Again. That's what the cats probably associate me with - and really, who can blame them?
Well, Mother Catresa understands. This is just part of the work I do: letting go. Just like I remember all of my dozens of foster kittens over the years; but, if I saw them now, they probably would have no idea who I was. (Their adult selves, incidentally, would look quite different than the kittens I knew, too).
And that's OK. I can live with that. Because even if they don't remember me, all of my furry alumni will forever dwell in my memory. And my role as a foster, really, is to prepare the kitties to be someone else's pet. Just like a parent's role is to prepare a child for adulthood. It ain't easy, but someone has to do it, right?
I kept that in mind as I gave the family a warm "thank you" and wished them well, walked out to my car, and drove off - watching the road through my misty eyes.
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Two Handsome, Single Studs Are Looking for Love!
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-i-fornia, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
In lieu of telling stories about my cats, this time, I'll let them speak for themselves.
You are about to hear from two declawed kitties: adult males Kitty (white) and Simba (orange tabby), middle-aged foster cats who have been hanging out in my guest bedroom for several months now. They really need a home - and perhaps a Mother Catresa fan, or friend of one, is that special someone.
From Kitty and Simba:
Meow! Thanks for listening to our plea. We truly have a sob story here: our elderly owner, with physical and mental struggles, could not care for us anymore, and had to give us up. We might have been euthanized at a kill shelter, but luckily, our mama is a friend of someone who knows Mother Catresa, and we ended up at her sanctuary.
Mama C is one cool cat, for sure, and we have it pretty good with her: we have a nice, spacious room all to ourselves, and that sure beats the streets or death. But it's not the same thing as having a home and owner to call our own, and a house where we have the full run, rather than being isolated in a separate room. Thank God we have each other up here, to keep us company!
We really would like to stay together, as we are lifelong companions. If we must be split up to get homes, we can live with that, but we hope we won't have to be separated. We are both declawed and shy, but very sweet and affectionate once we warm up to you.
Will you please give us the loving home we want so badly, or help us find someone who will? We promise that good karma will come to you for helping needy felines. Trust us: with nine lives, we have good connections!
Love,
Kitty and Simba
Monday, January 17, 2011
Pomp and (belated) circumstance
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
Much to some people's chagrin, I have a weakness for arriving, or doing things, fashionably late -- starting with my very entry into this world. I was supposed to be born right on Christmas, or within a day or two, in 1972. (That would be a bummer). Alas, my parents had to wait until next year for their tax deduction: I arrived two and a half weeks late, on Jan. 10.
Yes, last Monday, I turned 38 - and, I already was tardy with Mother Catresa's annual graduation narrative of kitty graduates, which I usually write on or just before New Year's Eve. So, anticlimactic though it may be, here it goes.
Mother Catresa, chancellor of the University of Catsylvania at Pittsburgh, is pleased to award her Scratchelor of Science degree to five felines in the Class of 2010 - along with one honorary degree for a dear classmate that was lost. My graduates: mother cat Tiger (a cabbie), and three babies: Sonny (orange tabby), Sherman (black) and Buf-Puf (buff tabby and white.) All four have found great homes. My honorary student - Chaz Bono, the male tortie kitten that I loved and lost to FIP - gets a posthumous award for fighting so very hard, and bringing so much joy into my life in the short few months he had with me. For more details about Chaz, please read a few posts down for that memorial.
Mother Catresa's graduating class this year is smaller in quantity than in previous years, when she usually went through several litters in one season. However, working now with a rescue group instead of a shelter, adoptions might be slower - and, in a bad economy, everyone's adoptions probably were slower last year. But, the quality of a litter, and a life saved, does not degrade from a lack of quantity.
I look forward to saving more lives in 2011. I'm dreaming of a furry year, and can't wait until the Kitten Fairy comes in the spring!
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks!
Much to some people's chagrin, I have a weakness for arriving, or doing things, fashionably late -- starting with my very entry into this world. I was supposed to be born right on Christmas, or within a day or two, in 1972. (That would be a bummer). Alas, my parents had to wait until next year for their tax deduction: I arrived two and a half weeks late, on Jan. 10.
Yes, last Monday, I turned 38 - and, I already was tardy with Mother Catresa's annual graduation narrative of kitty graduates, which I usually write on or just before New Year's Eve. So, anticlimactic though it may be, here it goes.
Mother Catresa, chancellor of the University of Catsylvania at Pittsburgh, is pleased to award her Scratchelor of Science degree to five felines in the Class of 2010 - along with one honorary degree for a dear classmate that was lost. My graduates: mother cat Tiger (a cabbie), and three babies: Sonny (orange tabby), Sherman (black) and Buf-Puf (buff tabby and white.) All four have found great homes. My honorary student - Chaz Bono, the male tortie kitten that I loved and lost to FIP - gets a posthumous award for fighting so very hard, and bringing so much joy into my life in the short few months he had with me. For more details about Chaz, please read a few posts down for that memorial.
Mother Catresa's graduating class this year is smaller in quantity than in previous years, when she usually went through several litters in one season. However, working now with a rescue group instead of a shelter, adoptions might be slower - and, in a bad economy, everyone's adoptions probably were slower last year. But, the quality of a litter, and a life saved, does not degrade from a lack of quantity.
I look forward to saving more lives in 2011. I'm dreaming of a furry year, and can't wait until the Kitten Fairy comes in the spring!
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Stinker and Bum-Bum
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Now, that sounded familiar!
"Knock it off, stinker," the Petsmart employee warned the playful orange tabby cat named Nick, who kept popping his paws through his cage bars and slapping her on the back.
I chuckled. Her, too? "Stinker" is such a common word in my household. And I thought it was funny to hear someone else say that, as I prepared to put one of my foster kitties, Simba, in his adoption cage.
And then came the real kicker. To another cat - though I'm not sure which one - she said something like, "Alright, Bum-Bum."
Bum-Bum? Seriously? That seemed like such random baby babble that I had made up for my cats. It's goofy, for sure, and absurd. And I thought it was hilarious that, of all things, someone else called cats with that nickname!
Oh, the nicknames - the literal "pet names," I suppose - that we come up with for our pets. Aren't they adorable and funny? Here are just a few of mine: Stinker, Bum-Bum, Kitty Po-Po, Goofball, Joker, and Meow-Meow. What are yours? Mother Catresa would love to hear them.
Now, I must say, that if someone were eavesdropping outside my house, they would be convinced that my cats' names are "Hey," "No," "Down," and "Uh-Uh!"
Until next time, I remain, as my own nickname,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Now, that sounded familiar!
"Knock it off, stinker," the Petsmart employee warned the playful orange tabby cat named Nick, who kept popping his paws through his cage bars and slapping her on the back.
I chuckled. Her, too? "Stinker" is such a common word in my household. And I thought it was funny to hear someone else say that, as I prepared to put one of my foster kitties, Simba, in his adoption cage.
And then came the real kicker. To another cat - though I'm not sure which one - she said something like, "Alright, Bum-Bum."
Bum-Bum? Seriously? That seemed like such random baby babble that I had made up for my cats. It's goofy, for sure, and absurd. And I thought it was hilarious that, of all things, someone else called cats with that nickname!
Oh, the nicknames - the literal "pet names," I suppose - that we come up with for our pets. Aren't they adorable and funny? Here are just a few of mine: Stinker, Bum-Bum, Kitty Po-Po, Goofball, Joker, and Meow-Meow. What are yours? Mother Catresa would love to hear them.
Now, I must say, that if someone were eavesdropping outside my house, they would be convinced that my cats' names are "Hey," "No," "Down," and "Uh-Uh!"
Until next time, I remain, as my own nickname,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Acht! Das Katzpiss!
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Sssssssssss ...
What's that for, you ask? I'll get to that in a minute. First, here's the background. The lone remaining kitten from this year's litter -- Buf-Puf, a buff and white tabby who was on medical hold for a long time because of a skin condition -- has been cooling his paws at my house for a week. He is taking a break from the PetsMart cage, and getting another injection for his skin.
Since Buf-Puf was going batty up in the foster kitten room all by his lonesome, I decided to let him out to mingle with my resident cats. Surprisingly, my cats - even Dharma, the queen bee - aren't in the least bit phased by Buf-Puf. They're either curious and friendly - or, in Dharma's case, like, "Okay, whatever!" So, Buf-Puf has been enjoying the run of the house for a good portion of the day.
And that brings me back to this: ssssssssssssssssssssss.
Last week, I was sitting on my couch reading the paper, when suddenly, I heard this peculiar noise coming from behind me: ssssssssssss.
Hmm, I thought briefly. Hey, you know what that sounds like?
And then, startled and panicked, I got it. Oh, yes, I know EXACTLY what that sounds like - and given that nothing is behind me but a wall and a big box, there's only one dreadful thing that noise could be!
Sure enough, I turned around and saw Buf-Puf, in all his squatting glory, baptizing ... my big cardboard box full of packaged Nutrisystem meals. What the .... Ick! Naughty! No, no, boy!
I won't even try to decipher the message my little foster kitten was trying to send me with this lovely communication, and why Buf-Puf found packaged meals to be an appealing litter box is beyond me. But luckily, I still have plenty of Nutrisystem left. And, as always, Mother Catresa loves any opportunity for a good laugh. C'mon, what fun would pets be if you didn't have a sense of humor about mishaps like this?
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Sssssssssss ...
What's that for, you ask? I'll get to that in a minute. First, here's the background. The lone remaining kitten from this year's litter -- Buf-Puf, a buff and white tabby who was on medical hold for a long time because of a skin condition -- has been cooling his paws at my house for a week. He is taking a break from the PetsMart cage, and getting another injection for his skin.
Since Buf-Puf was going batty up in the foster kitten room all by his lonesome, I decided to let him out to mingle with my resident cats. Surprisingly, my cats - even Dharma, the queen bee - aren't in the least bit phased by Buf-Puf. They're either curious and friendly - or, in Dharma's case, like, "Okay, whatever!" So, Buf-Puf has been enjoying the run of the house for a good portion of the day.
And that brings me back to this: ssssssssssssssssssssss.
Last week, I was sitting on my couch reading the paper, when suddenly, I heard this peculiar noise coming from behind me: ssssssssssss.
Hmm, I thought briefly. Hey, you know what that sounds like?
And then, startled and panicked, I got it. Oh, yes, I know EXACTLY what that sounds like - and given that nothing is behind me but a wall and a big box, there's only one dreadful thing that noise could be!
Sure enough, I turned around and saw Buf-Puf, in all his squatting glory, baptizing ... my big cardboard box full of packaged Nutrisystem meals. What the .... Ick! Naughty! No, no, boy!
I won't even try to decipher the message my little foster kitten was trying to send me with this lovely communication, and why Buf-Puf found packaged meals to be an appealing litter box is beyond me. But luckily, I still have plenty of Nutrisystem left. And, as always, Mother Catresa loves any opportunity for a good laugh. C'mon, what fun would pets be if you didn't have a sense of humor about mishaps like this?
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
