Yesterday was the day I was to take Schroeder to a neutering clinic to have him fixed, vaccinated, and given other veterinary care. I felt fortunate to have found out about this opportunity to give him all the immediate care he needs at an affordable price. The clinic is sponsored by Cat Aid Network.
Cats were to arrive at the clinic between 7:45 and 8:15 am. Since the drive was to take nearly half an hour, I set my alarm for 6 am, an hour later than usual. I ate breakfast and dressed in 45 minutes. The next step was to secure Schroeder in his carrier in preparation for our trip.
Since Schroeder had been spending nearly all his time in a carrier—see a photo of the arrangement I had created for him in my last post—I expected that corralling him for the trip to the clinic would be a snap. When I walked into the room, I saw that he wasn’t in the cage—good. Then I discovered that he wasn’t in the carrier either. He had somehow escaped confinement. This was troublesome but hardly not shocking, as the connection between cage and carrier was more psychological than physical. I quick look around the room found Schroeder hiding on a bookshelf just off the floor. With my leather gloves and heavy-duty Carhartt shirt, I grabbed the cat, thrust him into the carrier, and closed the carrier door.
I pulled out of the driveway at 7:14 am, a minute before my planned departure time. There was light snow, but the drive was uneventful. The address I was given was for an empty warehouse. I arrived a few minutes early and saw that four or five cars with cats were already in the parking lot. After a few minutes, a woman entered the warehouse and emerged with a sign that said SPAY CLINIC and waved the cat owners inside. The building looked like, well, an empty warehouse. There was a small room at the right, and this is where cats in their carriers were being collected. The place had the ambiance of a pre-Roe back-alley abortion clinic. (I later learned that procedures were not performed in the warehouse room but in a truck that arrive later with two actual veterinarians.) I left Schroeder after filling out a couple of forms and drove home in more light snow.
About 3:30 pm, got the call that Schroeder was ready to be picked up. By this time, the snow was a little heavier, but the retrieval went smoothly. I wrote a check for the veterinarian services. This was the first time I had written a check in a year or maybe two years. Only cash or checks were accepted. (Who writes checks anymore?) I picked up Schroeder in his carrier and headed home.
When I returned home about 4:30, I opened the door of the carrier and let Schroeder roam about. He was most interested in food and water and seemed none the worse for wear. (He had been given an injection for pain.) In the evening, he was walking about, nuzzling my leg, allowing me to pet him, and even letting me pick him up. Suddenly, he seemed very socialized. When left alone, he retreated to a cozy corner he found between the couch and a plant stand.
I am cautiously optimistic that Schroeder will be an adoptable cat, though I will have to find a home for him. I had thought him quite young, but the vets apparently concluded that he is about two years old.
For now, I am removing the cage and carrier and letting Schroeder range about the room. I’ll write more about him when there’s something interesting to say.
|Schroeder back home before I removed the cage and carrier.|