Updates: Gimlet & Sophie

The cat that I brought home back in July made it. He came home, he gained weight, he made some friends. We decided to pursue treatment, and lo-and-behold, all of his bloodwork came back normal! No hyperthyroid! So, he kept packing on the pounds, was made available for adoption, and was adopted in record time. He now has parents who love his quirks, a brother who is an old fart but they're still besties, and another cat sister with a couple of old dogs in the mix.

Sophie's rescue came for her. I haven't heard anything since then, but I'm hoping that she has found a new forever-this-time home.

Douchebags.

Sorry.

Not sorry.

A never-ending stream of excuses

People are full of shit. When they bring in animals to surrender, we have to ask them why. In fact, we have to get more specific than, "I don't feel like it anymore" or "He gets on my nerves" or "I can't take care of him." A lot of the time, when asked for more information, people lie.

"I'm allergic" to the pet I've had for 5 years, really means, "I've had this cat since it was a kitten and I'm getting married and my husband doesn't like my cat, so I'm getting rid of it because I need another person to validate my self-worth."

"He's got too much energy" because I'm too lazy to take him for walks, and for some reason letting him loose in the backyard only gets him more amped up.

"My kids aren't taking care of the pet" and I'm going to set a great example and get rid of it for them, because responsibility is not a thing I'm teaching my children, and certainly not the value of another life. Mommy and Daddy are going to solve all your problems, you can just live in the basement until you're 35.

Not only that, but many people simply do not care about their pets. Newsflash, but most of the people who work at animal shelters (in my experience) are there because they care about animals. Definitely not people. So, consider yourself judged if you surrender a pet for some crap reason. We've had people with cancer going into treatment centers try their damnedest to rehome their pets, and use the shelter as a last resort. That's why we're here. When your brother-in-law dies and you can't take his dog because you already have 3 kids, 2 cats and a dog, we understand. We'll do our best to find their pet a home. We try for every pet, no matter the folly of their previous owner.

But you, guy who said he'd rather his dog be dead than be crated while he was at work, are a dick. I don't think you understand the difference between death and boredom. Yeah, we'll probably find a better home for your dog and your dog will thank us later, but that doesn't make it right and that doesn't make you a good pet owner. You are the problem, you are the reason I have a job. Your dog being adopted means that the other good dogs, the ones who were really in need, are still waiting. And after a few months, when they lose their minds, they'll be put down.

All because you didn't want to crate your dog.

Not hospice

This is an update for Hospice, a post from July.

After living with him for a couple weeks and seeing his high quality of life, we decided to look into treatment. Radioactive Iodine injection is really the only viable treatment, and it is a cure. The Iodine attacks any abnormal thyroid tissue but leaves everything else alone, so it's a relatively low-risk treatment. Depending on his other medical issues and the cost, we were pretty optimistic.

After calling the two clinics in the area, treatment was estimated to be $1200. Assuming there were no other issues, treatment could optimistically give him another 3 years or so. At this point, he was running around like crazy, constantly demanding play and food, though not necessarily in that order. I could just see his thyroid burning him up. A 15 year old cat is just not supposed to act like that.

When I requested lab work for treatment, I was told by the shelter vet that I would need to get any needed lab work on my own, at my own vet. They were unwilling to help, presumably because he had originally been deemed hospice (though he was officially changed to seeking rescue) and they were too busy to worry about his treatment. I could consult them later in the month when things slowed down.

I was already prepared to pay out-of-pocket for treatment, so getting the lab work wasn't a huge blow. I did request the aid of a volunteer non-profit to help fund-raise and then hopefully help find a rescue or permanent home.

He went to a local vet that is one of few in this area that do not declaw, which is amazing in itself, but she also does a lot of work with shelter pets. She was skeptical of the diagnosis, given his significant weight gain (6 to 10 lbs in less than one month). She also believed him to be about half the age estimated by the shelter.

When the lab work came in, the news was better than we could imagine. Not only did he have no evidence of hyperthyroid, but all signs pointed to him being perfectly healthy! In the meantime, the group raised $400 for him, so they can use that money for the next needy cat.

He's now adoptable and still in foster care. He loves playing with our 9 week old foster kittens. If interested in adopting, please comment.

Sophie

This is Sophie:

Sophie's father of 14 years took her to the shelter on Saturday because the family had moved and was only allowed to have one pet, and Sophie wasn't it. Maybe they liked the cat more, maybe the cat was younger and didn't have accidents, maybe they didn't like her bad breath or cloudy eyes. Maybe it was a very hard decision, and they decided that Sophie had already lived a long, full life. I don't know.

But I met Sophie on Saturday.

I told her father that there was no room in our back room, where old dogs wait to see the vet alongside bite dogs, court dogs, and dogs with other medical/social issues. There was no room in there, so Sophie would be euthanized. Through no fault of her own, just because there was nowhere to put her.

He said, "That's fine. My wife and I already discussed it and we're fine with it."

I've known Sophie for five seconds and I'm not fine with it.

I don't know what's going on in their lives. I'm sure there is some circumstance that would make leaving your 14 year old dog at the shelter to die okay. I just don't know what it is. Whatever the reason, I'm sorry for them. Whether it's economic hardship or just cold, dead hearts, I'm sorry for them.

I asked Sophie's dad if he tried contacting the rescue that he got her from. He said, "No, we don't live there anymore." I said, "Yes, but they may be able to arrange transport for you if you can just hold on to her for a couple more days. Many rescues would rather get their dog back than have their dog left at a shelter to be put down." "We can't do that."

Needless to say, I contacted the rescue. They said they want her back. Their records don't even go back that far, but they took it on faith. Had he called just a few days earlier, Sophie could already be looking for another home. But I'm sure there was a reason he didn't call. I'm sure there's a reason he waited until the last possible minute to take care of Sophie.

When this is all said and done, when Sophie is safely back where she started, I'll post where she went so everyone can thank them for following through for Sophie. Fourteen years later and the next state over. Hopefully they meant it and Sophie will be going soon.

I brought Sophie home. There's no space in that room but I couldn't let her go down for her owner's mistake. Not this time. I think she's worth it. I think she's worth a few days. I think she's worth the space. I think her life is worth living.

Here's what I've learned about Sophie:

• She's a chowhound. She'll do anything for food or treats, or anything she thinks is food or treats. She demands feeding promptly upon waking and first thing when I get home.
• She loves going for walks. She can barely see, so she has no idea where she's going, but she seems to be sure it'll be a good time.
• She misses her cat friend and keeps trying to make nice with my cat, who's not having it.
• She's been fine with our two dogs, despite her owner reporting to the contrary. She's a Fun Police, so she doesn't like it when it gets rowdy, but she's otherwise fine.
• She's had no accidents, despite her owner's report. Over time, I'm sure, given her age, she'll have accidents, but for the past 48 hours she's been perfect.
• She likes to play, but I'm not sure how.

She's happy to be alive.

Hospice

I did a selfish thing last week.

I saw a bright-eyed, biscuit-making old cat in Cat Quarantine and wanted to take him home. Not because I need another cat-- I don't. And not because he seemed particularly fond of me-- he didn't. I wanted to take him home because I didn't think he deserved to die. Yes, he was old. Yes, he was scrawny. Yes, he was half bald. But his eyes shone like fire and he ate like he was starved and he said he wasn't ready to die. Not yet.

So I asked to bring him home. Not to fix him up and make him better, but just to let him live. Let him decide when it was time to go. I raged with righteous indignation that this most important of decisions had been taken from him, and I asked to take him home. And they said yes, when they just as easily could have said no. And maybe they should have.

At the animal shelter, we play a numbers game. It's a constant struggle to decide who lives and who dies; who gets one more chance and who doesn't. Despite what some uninformed and unrealistic people may say, you can't, you shouldn't, save them all. You shouldn't take an old, dying animal and allow an adoptable animal to die instead.

But I did.

And I'd do it again.

Why did I choose to take him instead of a kitten that could have been cared for and then adopted? I could use the excuse that I already have a nursing queen with kittens and I don't want to risk exposing them to germs, but really-- I didn't want to take a kitten. I didn't want to take any other cat. Had I not taken him, that room would still be empty. I took him because I wanted to. And because I was allowed to.

I didn't do it for him, not really. I did it because I wanted to feel good about something. He makes sure I feel good every time I walk into his room. He greets me loudly, purrs and circles my feet. He follows me around, purring and making biscuits, waiting for his food. He got his nails cut, his toes counted (26.5!), and tonight he got a bath. He's gaining weight and I'm thinking of renaming him Mick Jagger, because he's old, scrawny, and a little gross, but still awesome and you want to hang out with him.

Don't get me wrong. He very likely is very ill, he's just not showing many symptoms yet. When he does, we'll deal with it. And when we can't deal with it (when he can't deal with it), we'll help him go. But for now, who could resist that face?

Don't lie to me.

"Why are you surrendering the rabbit?"


"He's shedding a lot, and I can't find a vet that will see rabbits."


"Would you like a list of vets that see rabbits? There are a few in this area."


"No. I can't afford it, anyway."


"..."

Banfield strikes again

Young woman came in yesterday with a dog that was adopted from here a week before. He was wearing a cone. She handed me the sheet we give out for pet insurance and a quote from Banfield, showing antibiotics and pain medicine, totaling about $50. She told me that someone at Banfield told her to come to us and ask us to call them. I asked her what was going on, and she said that she had taken the dog in for a free exam, and they told her that his neuter incision was infected and he need antibiotics and pain medicine.

For some reason, I was skeptical.

I'm not supposed to, but I asked her if I could take a look at the dog. She said, "Of course," so I came around the counter and took a look at his surgery incision. It looked like a perfectly normal, deflated sack. There was no swelling, no redness; the incision wasn't even visible any longer. It was, for all intents and purposes, healed.

I looked at her and said, "You need a new vet. I'm going to call Banfield and see if they can explain this, but I'm telling you right now, find a new vet. This dog's incision site looks great."

So I called Banfield and spoke to the woman who had told the pet owner to come back to the shelter. She said that she had told the owner to see if we would pay for anything, since the insurance would only pay back some of the fees once paid, it wouldn't pay outright. I told her, "Absolutely not." and asked who had told this woman that her dog's incision site was infected. The Banfield person got indignant, and said that she was sure the vet had looked at the dog and made the assessment. I assured her that the surgery site was no infected, thanked her, and hung up.

I reiterated to the owner that she needed to find a new vet. I gave her the list of recommended vets (from volunteers and adopters, not from the shelter), and told her to make a regular appointment during the week.

It really pisses me off to see someone taken advantage of. We have so many awful pet owners who just don't give a crap, and to see someone trying so hard getting swindled is infuriating.

Once again, don't go to Banfield. Ever.