Medicine, Furry Medicine

An unadorned cardboard box in a warm, safe space... seems so, so appreciated by this sweet little guy.

This cat was seen on occasion in November. We figured he was a local resident. But then, later in November, we saw him more frequently, and notice he had no collar. We would try to cajole him toward us, but he would scurry off. As November progressed, he'd come onto our deck as sunset approached, and would gaze through the sliding door window. We'd open the door, and off he would scurry. Finally, on a lovely, sunny late afternoon, late in November he came close to us, outdoors, rubbed against our legs as kitties do, and I was able to pick him up just long enough to discern that he was light as a feather, so skinny he felt fragile, before he squirmed out of my embrace and ran off yet again.

But he returned to the door, most every evening... looking in the window. At first, when we'd open the slider he'd sniff at the interior, but not enter. Then, during the last week of November, he'd enter. We'd give him water, which he imbibed with (what I perceived as a sense of) satisfaction. We gave him some of our home-canned fish - premium stuff - that he'd barely nibble. We gave him pets 'n' lovin' which he accepted until such time as he was ready to leave. We'd open the door, and off he'd go, disappearing into the night. I wondered if he had been abandoned, and suspect he was, for he was - tentatively so - accustomed to two-leggeds, bowls, and kindness. This continued until the evening of December 1st, when he came through that slider to shun the open door, and - it seems - to stay to make us his.

The 1st priority of December 2nd was all about getting food and litter. He knew the sound of the food bag, from which we rationed small amounts to this furry bag of bones. The following morning he peed, not in the litter box, but in the basket lined with one of my old shawls. The next day he peed in the litter box, and - finally - pooped, not in the box, but on the bedroom floor where he hard peed the day before. Thank the gods for hardwood floors. We put the poo in the litter box, which he was using for the liquid stuff, and around day five he relented, and is now using the litter box for all manner of waste.

He's an early riser. That first morning it was 3:30ish. We're early risers too, but anything before 4:00 am is too early, even for us. I explained this to him, and now he holds off his morning antics to 4:00/4:30, which is acceptable to us. 

His ears were a mess, and causing him discomfort, pain even, and I've been forced to man-handle him to address that. It's hard because he's so skinny (but finally filling in a bit) that he feels delicate, and I feel like I might break him. It's been slow-going, and I'm still at it, but we're making progress even as he shuns and runs away from me after every treatment. I tell him, "One day, you'll thank me."   

My spouse has declared his name as Sammy. I call him Zamee, SamZam, StinkyPoo, and a host of variations (much as I do with our hens). He responds to none of it. He's settling in, and has no interest in any open door. To me, he feels heavens' sent (much like our last dog, Halley Josephine). I am grateful that he found us, claimed us. We shall be Medicine to one another. ::nods:: 

 Peace. 🕊