(Originally written 10/30/06)
About two months ago, a ragged little calico cat started showing up in our back yard in Palm Springs. The summer heat being what it was, she had wisely deduced that our perpetually leaking garden irrigation system would be a good source of hydration, and so we often observed her having a lick from one of the sprinklers. Thinking she was probably hungry as well, Carole or I would put treats out for her; she made it clear that she didn't feel comfortable eating with us standing around, so we would go inside and watch her from there. She always made the treats disappear in a matter of seconds, and then would disappear herself.
The Saturday before this past one, we saw her again in the back garden. this time, I shook some kitty treats out onto the pool deck, and I only had to step back about ten feet before she started chowing down. She was clearly very hungry, so Carole mixed up a little bowl of turkey baby food with some water (a favorite treat for our cats) and put it out for her. Seconds of sloppy slurping later, that too was history. As I bent down to shake out some more treats for her, she ran over to me and started brushing her head and body against my leg. Clearly, Carole and I had found a new friend -- within minutes, she'd jumped into Carole's lap for a good round of petting.
Getting a good up-close look at her for the first time, I noticed that she had beautiful yellow-green eyes and a very active bubblegum-pink nose. She'd obviously been out on the streets for awhile -- she was very dirty, quite skinny under her filthy coat, had a weeping right eye, and was missing some clumps of fur around her tush and missing some lower teeth -- but was so affectionate and sweetly behaved, we knew she had to have belonged to someone once upon a time. Having finally made friends with her, we stopped calling her "that calico" and started referring to her as "Sunny," which definitely suited her disposition: We met her out in the yard again the next morning, and she was so happy to see us that she flopped to the pavement and started rolling back and forth.
We played and cuddled with her some more, and debated what to do about her; we have four cats already, two of whom presently fall under the "special needs" category, and adding a fifth was simply out of the question. We thought about just continuing to put out food for her whenever we saw her, but it wouldn't be fair to make Sunny our "weekend cat" and then let her fend for herself when we weren't there, especially since she didn't appear to be doing great, and she so clearly wanted a real home. (She had taken to sitting outside our screen door, peering in longingly like an orphan outside a candy store, until our cat Kyuko would run up and scare her away.)
Finally, I contacted my friend MJ, who hipped us to a brand new, no-kill animal shelter (the Coachella Valley Animal Campus) in nearby Thousand Palms. It's closed on Sundays, though, so we just put out a big bowl of dry food for Sunny before we left, and hoped it would keep her going (and keep her coming around) until the next weekend. The plan was to come back with an extra cat carrier, scoop Sunny up, and take her to the shelter.
Well, everything went according to plan this past Saturday -- with the exception that it broke our fucking hearts to take her in. We played and cuddled with her all morning before packing her up and driving her over to the CVAC, but it wasn't until we were all in the car together that we realized just how attached we'd become to little Sunny, even just after a matter of days. Keeping her simply wasn't an option, we didn't know anyone in the market for a new cat, and letting her stay exposed to the desert elements would be cruel, especially with the rainy winter months coming. Plus, we knew that once she got cleaned up, ate regular meals and received proper medical attention, her beauty and sweetness would win her many admirers, and that someone would soon give her the good home she deserved. But we dearly wished that WE could be the ones to give her that home, and it so saddened us to know that it simply wasn't possible.
The CVAC is big, clean, spanking new and staffed by some great people, but none of those things really made "the hand-off" any easier. The attendant, assuming that this was just another stray brought in by people with no attachments to it, took her away before we even really had a chance to say goodbye. Carole and I pretty much cried all the way home, wishing we could have had one more day, one more week, one more month with Sunny. But what if we came out one weekend to find her hurt? Or worse? We couldn't take that chance with her. But all the same, it hurt so badly to know that we wouldn't ever again see her rolling around happily at our feet, or licking contentedly at our sprinklers.
Sunny one so true, I love you. May your next real home be a warm, safe and loving one.
Yesterday afternoon, I walked into my home office and found my cat Mentos peeing all over my desk. An unpleasant and disgusting surprise, to say the least; thank god he didn't hit the laptop, but he did ruin a couple of books, as well as a pile of receipts that I was about to sort out and file. My Chicago Cubs cap got the worst of it, however, which makes me wonder -- was Mentos merely commenting on the Cliff Floyd deal?