Ah, such a very short break.

For a couple of days there, my phone wasn't going crazy with email notifications.  No one was calling me.  No facebook tags on puppy dog faces or posts about cats.  It was just so lovingly quiet.

The kittens are doing wonderfully and progressing just perfect.  Their momma couldn't love them more - I doubt they're going to be adopted so much as four fuzzy little foster fails.


Ahhh...and then the emails started rolling back in.

And my boss made me increase the number of days I work, so that now I only have one night off.  My husband has no nights off.  I have a foster app to process, one to encourage, a foster who needs a new pet, BOATLOADS of paperwork to do both for IAF and my own pets, a house that will now never get cleaned, and a ton of pets to follow up on.

Oh, and I think a fundraising event this weekend?

And yardwork for pay in the morning.

And pulling pretty much all of the money out of our savings that I had been hoping to use on a functioning car and you know, a family...

I just called the only orthopedic vet in our area for a quote to repair Penny's luxating patella, and for the love of fuck, we're looking at about $2,000-2,500 all said and done.  To fix a knee popping out of place, that's only popping out of place because of her FIRST incredibly expensive surgery.  And she's about 4 years old, best guess, and could really use a dental cleaning.  Which would be about $500.

Fuck.  Me.

There may need to be a chip-in if I can't find a cheaper vet.  I wish my normal guy did weird surgeries...I adore him.  Maybe he can at least do the dental stuff cheaper.  We tried to give her pain meds for the knee, since she is favoring it every time she goes outside now and hopping around like she can't even use it, but it just made her dopey and SO unhappy.  So I guess it's we-go-broke or dog-goes-dopey...and I hate both of those options.


So we're working more and hoping the money will help us NOT miss rent anymore... hoping for coupons, donations, some kind of aid...and having zero time to really handle anything even if it came our way.

So anyways.  Busy, REALLY busy, but at least no current crises.  Just...not nearly enough hours in the day for all the commitments and everything we're doing to try to make a little extra cash.

That's really it for now.  Gonna maybe put up a new pet of the day for ya, too.


-(stressed out and very broke) Mouse

Happy Kittens, Focused Mouse

Kind of serious-talk time, but I promise...it really will get uplifting.  Just read through the somber-Mouse bits first.

So very much has happened to me during these past several months that it seems strange that I've managed to find the time to do any work with animals at all, even my own.  But it turns out - it's all about perspective.

Last night (...I think it was last night?) I had a very, very long phone conversation with the woman who asked me to pick up the kittens.  She is facing despair in the truest and deepest sense, and at some point in rescuing, we all do.  It isn't just rescue, of course - it's everything, it always is - but when we hear sad story after sad story, and have our hearts broken time and time again, it can require something massive to see a silver lining.  To not want to throw your hands in the air and just walk away.  To not just...strangle some people...

We wish there was a way to put the blinders back on and unsee what we have seen.

I'm not trying to be dramatic here.  It's extremely true.  It takes a very special soul to keep going, and it takes a lot of strong friendships to support each other through the roughest of times.


About half an hour ago I heard that the kittens, who I had to put with a bottle-feeding sitter tonight so I could go to work for eight hours, have found a home.  I was kind of shocked, because I had picked those kittens up.  I had fostered them.  I had nitpicked over their care, learned which one likes to eat how, stroked their tummies when they fussed.  It hadn't been very long - but the transfer was arranged for the morning - completely without me being there at all.

OF COURSE I will get to say bye to them, and the new foster will probably even let me visit.  This is a blessing, and it had to happen.

But...I'm going to miss them.  I feel like momma.  One moment your babies are there, and you're feeding them when they cry every hour or two, and the next...they're gone.  That's ludicrous - I can't ACTUALLY compare seeing fosters move on to a mom losing her babies.  That's nothing alike at all, and my heart still breaks for the momma, somewhere in Louisiana, confused and...just...it's awful.

I KNOW they have to move on.

I just love them.

So to keep from falling into a selfish bout of depression, I did something I did at the end of 2011 - I tallied up the rescues.  In December of 2011, I counted up all the rescues, transfers, rehomings, every pet I could think of that we had helped in some way and made a photo album of them online.  I think I will start making one physically, as well, with little trinkets and memories.  I'm not really the scrapbooking type...but anyways.

The album didn't have that many pets in it, but it had been a busy year and I was still pioneering my way into my own style of guerilla, hardcore rescue.  You know the type.  No...not the nutjobs who break into labs or go batshit on someone who uses a different training style than they do.  The folks who don't sleep until the pet can.  I was still figuring that mess out, but I was so delighted about my little album of success stories.

It was part pat-on-the-back, and part encouragement.  Next year, I'll beat that.  Next year we'll have even MORE happy tails to wag.  Look at my progress - I can help animals, and I can keep on going.

So I sat down tonight and I went through my photo albums on facebook and collected everyone I could think of.  I counted the feline leukemia kittens and the colony of TNRs they came from because they weren't in the 2011 album, and I wasn't quite sure when that had happened.  Probably in late 2011.  I feel like it might have been chilly at the time.  But I am counting them anyways, because they deserve to be counted, and we have gone through so very much with them this year.

So I tallied.  And guys...

I have helped 33 animals this year...

and it's only August.

Even if you took out the feleukers and TNR, that's still 15 pets.  In 8 months.

Holy shit.

I tripled the pets I reached out to this year so far, even around working multiple jobs, losing a pregnancy, and everything else that has hit us this year.  And that isn't even counting any pets adopted out through IAF.  JUST ones that my husband and I physically and personally helped, and played an active, crucial role in.

• One rehoming - Suka the pittie, who is now a service dog.
• Two found animals returned - Bentley the beagle, and a Corgi with no collar.
• TEN rescues - the four Louisiana kittens, and the six feleukers (RIP Dove and Traveler)
• Twelve TNRs - In one massive event executed almost entirely by us and aforementioned friend
• Eight transports - Seven dogs from Canton to local homes and fosters, and one pup with a broken jaw from San Anton to Austin.

If anything can lift your spirits when you have to say goodbye to four tiny lives you grew pretty attached to, well, looking at that big of a picture is one fuck of a help.  I have gone from volunteering where help was needed to actively rescuing, being a manager in a rescue and driving a fostering program, and just...holy shit, guys, I helped thirty-three animals survive, find where they belong, live healthy, and get to help.  In the past eight months.

And in the months after this, I am going to continue to do everything I can, give everything I can, and learn everything I can.

I have never felt more like I know who I am and why I am here than looking at this sheet of paper and remembering that I do have a purpose, and those blinders can never go back on.  I wear pants with kitten milk stains.  I don't shut my mouth about BSL.  I answer the phone when I am asleep, get out of bed, and go pick up and feed starving animals.  I quarantine a room, sanitizing everything down to changing clothes at the door, to care for kittens with a lethal disease as long as they can before it hits them.  I stop on the side of the road for dogs, no matter where I am going.  I drive across the state to take a dog off a euth list and put it in a yard and a home.  I am Mouse, and homecheck is a regular word in my vocabulary.


When in my life could I ever have thought I was meant for anything else?

-Mouse

Wow! It's been a WHILE!

But I'm back!

And posting from my other blogger account, because well, it's just easier that way.

I took a break from blogging for a long time, but there is just SO MUCH going on that I gotta write about it somewhere!  I don't really remember where I left off last time I dropped off the face of the earth, so some updates about me, my fosters, and the state of things around heyawh (the best I can do typing "here" in a goofy accent).

I am now a foster coordinator!
Yup.  That happened.  Since May I have been in the position of FC for a local rescue - not the one I worked with before, although I have not limited my work with other rescues in any means.  This one is foster-based, so I'm really pulling the cart here.  My duties are handling animal surrender and aid requests, selecting intakes, approving and recruiting fosters, and being a liaison between fosters and our other departments or supplies as needed.

And paperwork.

A lot of paperwork.

I just now this month feel like I've really got the job working for me, instead of it working me over.  I still have quite a bit to do, but it doesn't seem impossible or daunting anymore.  For the purposes of this blog, rescue shall be referred to as IAF.


Did I mention before that I have nine cats in my house?
Well now there are 13.

There's my cat, Base, who has rhino and gets snotty sometimes.  Then there's Ghost, a momma pulled from a hoarder situation.  Those two are both actually mine, and the only cats in the house that actually belong to me.

Then there are Batman, Chewy, and Luke - Ghost's babies that STILL have not found homes.  Partially my fault for loving them so fucking much.  But they're breaking my things.  So...they can get adopted any time now plskthxbai.

Oh, and they aren't babies anymore.  They are kitty putty.  Long, lean, spotted kitty putty that melts in your arms and goes for shoulder rides.

THEN there are Kitty System, Freddy, Cowbell, and Pickles - our resident feleukers.  Also still have not found adoptive homes, and were also emergency rescues belonging to GLC.  ...KS thinks he's a rabbit.

And then oh, today...


We just picked up four 4-day-old kittens.
And by "picked up," I mean they went for an interstate drive via the walls of a trailer home that was being moved.  Poor momma...coming back to not know where the fuck her house with her babies is...

All four are being bottle fed by yours truly and, while I'm at work tonight, a friend with bfing experience.  Which is oddly difficult to come by, truthfully.  Even the vet students I know can tell you HOW to bottle feed but have never actually DONE it.  They're doing good, though.  Two orange tabbies, one cream tabby, and one tortie.  Hopefully they'll find a more permanent bottle feeder/foster in the next day but suddenly I'm running short on hope (AND SLEEP) on that one...


Let's see, what else is new?

I know!  How about a picture, and I'll save the crazy stories for later, when they come up, instead of dumping it all down at once?

Now you just can't tell me that isn't the sweetest thing you have ever seen.  It makes my heart melt.  <3

More Sadness, but There Are Kittens.

The six kittens we took from the home with the cats we were fixing for free came home with us, and that very day, were on the verge of death.  All of them had faces sealed shut with eye goo.  I made an appointment, and in the three hours it took to get them there, they had developed fevers and were extremely lethargic.  I honestly thought they were all going to die, and so did the vet.

He gave them SQ fluids, which they HATED, and clavamox.  He says he's thinking an immune deficiency disease, like feleuk, but I've seen this plenty before and I can bet you $100 it's rhino or calici.  My own cat had rhino when she was a kitten, and it took us a year before we figured out why she had developed such horrible fevers as a kitten (so bad she couldn't walk without being in pain), and since she grew up she would periodically get majorly snotty.  I wanna say the kittens have rhino, but they are in such strong quarantine (exit only by window, change clothes on entering, separate air system, betadine scrubs before going in or out, and about five showers a day, easy) and it developed so very quickly (plus all of their siblings out of three huge litters had already died), it could very well be something else.  Still thinking rhino or calici.  At least I know I didn't expose them to it, as was my initial terror.

I've gotten pretty good at quarantine, though.  Since their vet visit the babies have really perked up.  I learned a new trick, too - if you can't get stubborn, solidified, serious eye bogies out, try rubbing neosporin or other oil-based antibiotic ointment into them.  It dissolves right out and they clean it away.  I think we managed to avoid tear duct damage in all six!

They have names now, too.  Freddy is the biggest and definitely a boy.  He was originally named Fraidy because he was practically feral, but he adjusted quickly and now ALL he wants to do is snuggle, cuddle, and purr.  He's from a separate litter from everyone else, and at least 2 weeks older, despite what coked-out-bitch insisted.  The Kitty System is a seal point siamese, the next biggest, and also from a separate litter.  He is the trouble-maker!  If there's a wrestling match, you can bet KS was involved and probably started it!  Pickles is the next biggest trouble-maker, getting into pickles every play time.  He's grey and white spotted.  Traveller is a grey, white-socked well...traveller!  He goes where no kitten has gone before, and exploring is his thing (and so is talking, oh my goodness).  Dove looks just like Traveller but runted.  Dove is the only one I'm still a little worried about, but she's doin' her darndest to keep up with the big kids.  :)  Last is Cowbell.  Cowbell is sweet enough to easily medicate, love on, snuggle with, and catch, but balances his people skills perfectly with that classic kitten playfulness.

I'll post photos as they grow up - right now it's still all very hush-hush.



Meanwhile, down the street from me, I finally managed to get some photos of a trio of horses I've been concerned about.  There's not enough info right now, and they aren't on death's doorstep, so no one will do anything about it.  Yet.  Photos are the first step, though.  Click on any of the pictures to enlarge them.

Yeah...that's totally a ball of wire and debris fucking everywhere.

And right across the street from them is this poor little guy and his loose-running yippy chihuahua:

He stays chained like that all day every day, and crawls under the tractor when the weather is harsh.  That would be extremely illegal.  But, you have to go about these things carefully, or the animal winds up dead, "lost," or tossed in the high-kill shelter to be killed anyways.

NEVER.  CHAIN.  YOUR DOG.  TO A FUCKING TREE.



-Mouse

Too Much and You Start to Really Hate People

I don't know how some people who work in animal rescue, sheltering, or anything like that can stay optimistic.  Fuck, I don't know how I can type real sentences right now.  I'm motherfucking tired.

What did I do today?  Today I told the local kill shelter I'd pay it $150 if three of it's goddamned cat carriers came back damaged.  Carriers I was told I'd be lent as part of participating in their free spay and neuter program.  For feral cats.

While signing the form, a man and his children come in.  The woman across from me places her call on hold, looks over my head, and asks how she can help him.  He says:

"Our dog is here.  He's a mutt.  We punished him for getting out by lettin' him stay here a little longer.  It's been about a week, and I need to pick him up now."

A little while later I'm half an hour North, helping my fiance fix a gate and a portion of fencing while picking up some spare cat carriers from the same woman who helped us get our dog's leg surgery when we first found her.  We talk about the $455 bill I have to deal with for taking the stray dog into the E.R. a week or so ago.  Maybe two weeks.  Not sure.

She had been hit by a car and just fucking left her.  She could barely move.  She was being eaten by ants.

What kind of person can leave a dog like that on the side of the road.  About ten years old.  Two necrotic mammary masses.  Missing and cracked teeth.  Shattered pelvis and right femur - pieces of her pelvis in her leg.  In shock, terrified.  Just a fucking pair of eyes on the side of the road by our house, on the way home from my fiance's birthday party.

We talk, we talk about how we have her ashes now, and how we want to use her story to convince our neighbors to fence their dogs or bring them inside.  I collect the carriers.  I drive to the next destination - the woman who's asked for my help before, and has come to me now.  She lives outside of the county line, so she can't offer a certain woman the free spay and neuter program we have where I live.  The woman with the cats is doped out of her mind.  It's a miracle she's alive at all.  On welfare and drugs, talking about how she almost died by choking because she fell asleep while eating.

We bring all these carriers because I've told my county program that there is a colony of feral cats by my house I need to get fixed.  It's a useless lie.  We can't catch all of her cats, because even though she does feed them (the food that's given to her for free out of donations), they truly are feral.  One, whose paws are deformed so that she can walk only on her "elbows," flips out so badly from being put in the carrier that her face is bloodied.  More and more cats zipping out of the house we aren't allowed into, under the house, under the neighbor houses, into and out of the storm drains.  Easily forty, maybe fifty cats.  Six kittens (the rest of many more litters, having died in the yard, have been removed already) are bloated with worms and none of the mothers will feed them.

The woman says things like

"I was so hoping God wouldn't force that poor creature to give birth to more" (she says of the deformed cat, who looks the size of a 6 month old kitten but has already had and nursed at least two litters)

"I already put them on two rounds of Revolution"

"Revolution is expensive, I can't afford to put them on anything"

"They're at least three months old, for sure!  They're weaned, they just keep trying to nurse."

Unfortunately, we couldn't catch the male we desperately wanted to neuter - he had a broken pelvis from the man in the house throwing him against a wall, but escaped beneath the house before we could get him safely in a carrier.



I just...I fucking hate people right now.
- Mouse

Kitteh Balls

Good news!  I got all A's this semester.  Sweet!

In other news, the kittens I've been fostering are finally about to reach that magic number - 12 weeks old.  I have about a million people lined up to adopt them (such is the way with kittens), but they can't go nowhere until they've had their down-theres fixed up.

So when can you neuter a kitten?

Or spay, if you have a lady kitten.  Which I do not.

That depends on who you ask.  Given my major, I should probably have some strong opinion that I can forcefully defend, but I don't.  My opinion is - when they're big enough.  Your vet can give you an idea, but I would recommend not waiting until 6 months or later like some clinics do.  I do have one opinion I'll defend to the grave, though - never, ever, ever, EVER adopt out an animal that isn't fixed.

But they paid a deposit for fixing?  Nope.
But I know them really well?  Nope.
But they promised to do it in 30 days or I could take it back?  NOPE.

Fix them as soon as they're 3 pounds, or the fastest your vet feels comfortable putting them under anesthesia.  Then and only then can they go to their new homes.

Even if you're giving the cat to your mother, get it fixed first.  It's not a matter of trust (okay sometimes it is), it's just the plain fact that shit happens.

What if Senor Fluffypants gets out?  What if Madam Fuzzbutt gets her first heat, and new owners can't afford the more expensive spay?  Things happen, and if you're going to spend that much time rescuing, raising, and vetting the kittens, might as well take one more thing off your mind and their "still needs ____" list.  Otherwise you might wind up with a whole new litter of unloved kittens waking you up every two hours and needing even more vet visits in a few months.  Cats multiply, shit happens.



Plus, for boy kitties, the surgery is really easy.  Look what I found!  (Caution:  Includes real photographs of the surgery)  Slideshow came from this page.

And, because I have no intention of being kitteh-sexist here, a very thorough and in-depth pictoral walkthrough of a spay.  (Caution:  Yes it's still real surgery pictures)

Both pages have links to similar information for dog procedures, so if you aren't too squeamish, take a look around.  Cool stuff!

Batman hogging the food, and Chewy being particularly nonplussed about it.

-Mouse

Cat Teeth!

You know, there are all kinds of products targeted toward cleaning dog teeth.  To my knowledge, none of them work.  It does, on the other hand show that the general public is quite aware that dogs do experience problems with their chompers.  Most people have heard of gingivitis in dogs, letting the vet do a little dentistry/teeth cleaning, and even brushing your dog's teeth.

You don't hear much about cat teeth, though.

Cats absolutely get problems with plaque, their gums, and their teeth.  Infections from too much built up plaque and a swollen/irritated gumline can become extreme, cause tooth loss, and even spread via bloodstream to other areas of the body.

So what do you do?  Have your cat put under anesthesia every few months for a good cleaning?  Well...you could do that, or you could brush your cat's teeth.

If you own a cat, you're probably putting on heavy duty gloves right now.  I adore kitties, but if there's one thing they don't like by default, it's having your fingers in their mouths!  Never fear, though, for I have found this nifty video that has a slight resemblance to the one I actually wanted to show you, but couldn't, because my class uploaded it directly.




Voila!

Cat teeth.


-Mouse

Radiation Therapy for Hypothyroidism

Gah, that last post was so catty (punny...) that I couldn't just leave it at that.  Yeah, it bugged me, but I'd rather post something a little more interesting to balance it out.  For the record, I feel it's incredibly important to hear all sides of an argument, especially if they tick you off, because people who disagree with you still have says.  It's most important when you feel strongly about something, because you may be less inclined to notice when they actually have points.

It just sucks and makes your blood boil a little bit.

ANYhoo...


The cat I posted for today's Texan Shelter Pet-of-the-Day has hyperthyroidism.  Until today, I didn't even know what that was.  I mean, I knew about the thyroid gland, but had no idea what hyperthyroidism in cats meant.  It sounds scary, like having a diabetic cat, where you have to give them two shots a day at very specific times.  Only in the case of hyperthyroidism, unless you can afford surgery, it's giving them multiple pills a day.

Have you ever given a cat a pill?  Goes something like this:

From Married to the Sea

That sounds horrible to me.  I mean sure, you could probably hide them in food, but some cats (ahem...mine) will just eat around the pill and leave it for you, untouched or perhaps licked clean of food, sitting right in the middle of the food bowl.  It's like they just know.

Well, someone linked to an extremely interesting site in the comments on that cat.  It explains what hyperthyroidism is and pitches a radiation therapy treatment they claim completely cures the problem 98-99% of the time - no blood tests, no pills, just a single treatment.

They don't say anywhere on the site what that treatment costs, but if it's that amazing I am sure it'll catch on, leading to competition and better prices.  I imagine it would be difficult to save up for a more expensive procedure while also buying your cat multiple pills per day.  I also imagine they are exaggerating the hassle of handling a cat with the condition in order to sell their treatment, of course, and one person mentioned they have a cat affected by hyperthyroidism and don't find it to be terribly inconvenient.


Needless to say, this is extremely interesting to me and I'll almost certainly be doing a lot more reading on it over the next few days!  In between studying for my week 8 exams, socializing the kittens, and training/fostering Lanie, of course.

Oh my goodness, that dog pulls like none other.  That is NOT a puppy that can go in an apartment, she needs a yard.

She has also taken to ONLY using the restroom in our bath tub, rather than behaving like the house-trained little girl I was told she was.  Oh well, better than the carpet!!

-Mouse