Waxy never came for dinner last night, but she was outside this morning. I poured a few small heaps of dry food for the cats to share, but immediately grabbed her so that I could feed her wet food inside. She never stopped purring the entire 15 minutes or so while she was eating. She’s really a good-natured cat. She even licked up the piece of food that splattered onto the floor.
The second morning we were here, the neighbor on the third floor saw me feeding the cats, and she said, “One, two, three, four” while pointing at each of the cats. I pointed at Waxy saying I wanted to take her to the doctor because of her eyes. I asked, “Where is the doctor?” She said “Nine minutes.” I started looking online, but they were all at least 30 minutes away. Maybe she thought I was looking for a doctor for myself. Later that day, I asked the cashier at the grocery store if there is a vet in town, and she said, “Trust me, there is no vet in town.” Odd.
Coffee with my Waxy.
Nine Minutes, Just Like the Neighbor Said.
I searched the web again, clicking on every obscure result. I called a promising place, and the vet picked up. He confirmed that he can spay the cat. I explained that the cat cannot stay with me during recovery. He said boarding is an option. All I would have to do is give him a day’s notice. The website didn’t list an address, only a town, Skaljari. He said the taxi driver would know. I Google Mapped it. Nine minutes, just like the neighbor said.
As I was coming back from the pharmacy yesterday with our cold medicine, the third-floor neighbor and her husband were going down the stairs. Through simple English and some hand gestures, I confirmed that Waxy was, in fact, homeless. “No house”, she assured. It would be horrible if we spayed someone’s cat without permission! I also made sure she knew Waxy would be spayed. She nodded knowingly when I gestured a scissors cutting with my index and middle fingers. I just have to find a box to use as a cat carrier. As I closed the front door, aha! There’s a tall laundry basket with a lid! Later, when Waxy didn’t come for dinner, Kenric and I were joking that she overheard the spaying conversation.
Walking Under a Ladder is Bad Luck for Cats Too
Today, around 1 PM, I gave Waxy and her friends their lunch. I called the vet. He said we could bring her in at 6 PM when they reopen for evening hours. Who knows where Waxy will be around 5:45. After discussing with Kenric, I went back out to kidnap her. She was half way down the stairs. When she walked under a ladder used by some construction workers, I knew I would get her. She didn’t resist. She’s just the chillest cat. Besides, I think she likes me. Between 1:15 and 5:40, she stayed in the same spot in the kitchen. When she wasn’t eating, she stayed very still. She looked around. Perhaps her first time indoors.
I knew I would catch her when she walked under that ladder!
Of course, the taxi driver had no clue where the vet office is. The vet gave him directions over the phone. It was dark, and the place was closed. I called and was told, “My partner will be there in five minutes.” Three people with a sick bulldog arrived. I told them, “Five minutes”. The vet arrived within five minutes. Kenric waited outside – allergies. The vet knew I was first in line. She said she would have to check how old Waxy is before she can decide if spaying is possible. A man barged into the room, and she attended to him for about fifteen minutes. Waxy who has been dead silent started purring when I massaged her. She was so relaxed, she laid down on her side, then on her back.
Dirty laundry or Kotor cat?
A Girl!
I was half expecting the vet to tell me Waxy is a boy. Then she said, “It’s OK to spay her.” I was proud for guessing correctly. Waxy’s six or seven years old. Apparently, she’s lost most of her teeth. The discharge from her eyes is due to a virus that flares up in winter when cats’ immune systems are weak, especially among homeless cats – cold weather and less food. The antibiotics to treat that would need to be injected daily for seven days. I asked if I could board her for all seven days, she said yes. Waxy will get her ears cleaned, flea shots and her antibiotics will start tomorrow.
The vet said she might even do the operation tonight. It’s time to put Waxy in her boarding carrier. Suffice it to say that the back room/operation room was scary and disgusting by many, many standards. Actually, by every standard. I told myself, “Maybe the people from the afternoon shift were already working late, and didn’t have time to clean up.” It’s a good sign that there were many more people waiting to see the vet, and that this place was recommended by the neighbor. Maybe we’ll just take her home, I mean, take her homeless after three days, the normal recovery time for her operation.
The first time she relaxed to the extent of laying down.
Waxy’s boarding cage was completely empty, so I gave her my grey T-shirt; the one I wrapped her in earlier. As I said goodbye, she realized she trusted the wrong human.
Waxy will never trust another crazy Asian cat lady again.
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