Nine down, ??? to go…
Caught 7 feral cats (teenagers and one baby kitten) in Slaughter, LA today, and one of the marmalades (a sweet little orange & white tabby girl) has TWENTY-THREE FUCKING TOES!!!!!!!!!!!!
MONDAY: Went BACK another hundred fucking miles WAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY to pick up two more — an androgynous tabby whose gender I could not determine (at least 1 year old) and a 10-12-week-old tuxedo boy WITH THUMBS, DEW CLAWS ON THE BACK FEET, AND I COULDN’T EVEN *COUNT* ALL OF THE EXTRA TOES as I put him into the carrier with the baby girl. Wish that I could get the vet to take better pictures for me, but she can’t be bothered with us “charity cases” to take PICTURES OF MUTANT TOES. She DOES take digital facial pictures of every cat that she does for Cat Haven, but got PISSED OFF AT ME when I asked her if she could get shots of all of the mutant toes, ’cause this is my first time, out of FIFTY-NINE CATS IN 11 MONTHS, that I’ve ever seen mutants of this quality. She didn’t give a fuck.
But, since she does this stuff for us below her costs, I can’t tell her how I’d like to tranq-dart her with an estrogen/valium cocktail to take that huge fucking I-married-money-so-I’m-somehow-better-than-YOU chip off of her arrogant shoulder. I’ll be SOOOOOO glad when MY vet gets back from her honeymoon!!!!!!!!
Postponed the appointment with the new spine guy until next month, because there was no way in hell that I was going to make it through south Baton Rouge traffic today — I can barely sit up, much less walk, after 7 captures yesterday, and additional 200 miles on my ass & spine, so the second opinion will have to wait. Going to take a long, hot bath and attempt a nap. Somebody please put me to sleep so that I don’t have to be THE ONLY FUCKING PERSON IN TWO PARISHES WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THESE ANIMALS anymore.
ALSO: Monday & Wednesday of last week: Got Winter into the Cat HavenAdult Adoption Program (after the sweet, docile, tame housecat bit me three times from a claustrophobia fit from the cardboard temp carrier, he was a perfect angel riding home with Cat Have Cathy, with his head sticking out of the hole that he ripped in the $5 damned box) and got THE LAST BOY CAT AT THE MYRTLES FINALLY FIXED!!!!!!!!!!! WOOO HOOOOO!!!!!! Glenn, the manager at the Myrtles, is a dear heart and a good friend, but man, getting that grounds & kitchen crew (to whom those cats walk right up and hop into their laps, but they’re too smart/skittish for me to TRAP the little weasels) to help — ??? — yeah, FOUR MONTHS FOR SIX CATS.