Got A Tiger By The Tail...

Several years ago, Leif “found” two small, starved kittens in the ditch on his way home from a friend’s house. The two were dumped, a common but unfortunate occurrence in the country. Some idiot’s cat or dog has too many babies, so they decide to “free them in the beautiful countryside.” These poor animals usually starve, or become food for bigger animals (coyotes, wolves, owls, eagles, etc) Well, with my son’s big brown eyes looking at me, and him sweetly asking, “Can I feed them?“ How could I say no. Once you feed a cat, well, you own that cat. We agreed he could feed them, but they had to stay outdoor cats, and at six weeks, we would get them fixed. Leif would help pay for the vet bills. He named them Mama Bear, and Grey Ghost. And those two kittens quickly became six cats. Who knew that a kitten could get “knocked up” so young? Mama Bear had four kittens at six weeks old. I think that Mama Bear might have already “been in trouble” when Leif found her. It was huge surprise to see a kitten with kittens. We handled the kittens when they were young, hoping that they would be social, like the mother cat. Then Mama Bear then moved the kittens to a safer location, and they grew. At five weeks, the plan was to catch the young, and get the whole lot fixed at once. The two older cats were social so they came when food was poured, the kittens (there were now only two still living) were not as easy. Those tiny balls of fur were wild and mean. I sat outside by the food dish, planning on how I would catch them and set them into the cat carrier, and then off to the vet we would all go. I must have sat by the food for over 30 minutes before one of them finally crept up to the dish. I swooped in and caught the small fluff ball by the tail. The feral kitten started getting all Tanzamian devil on me. Snarling, spitting and trying to get at me, not get away. I had not scared it, but made it angry. Revenge, not escape was what it wanted. Here I was standing, holding on to it by the tail…now what? I had a moment of doubt. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. If I set it back down, I was sure it would really get ugly. It had already scratched and bitten me ( I had visions of some nasty but exotic disease that these bites would lead to, maybe I’d have to get my arm amputated, and all because I was trying to be a responsible pet owner.) I could not possibly get it into the cat carrier without being mauled even more and no vet deserved to get a vicious kitten launching out and into his face in the examining room. I had the tiger by the tail. I just stood there, holding this tiny kitten by the tail, as it swung around and tried it’s best to kill me. I thought about flinging it, but that just seemed too mean (funny image, but mean) If I set it down, would it run to safety or come after me? I was thinking it would come after me (yes, I was kind of scared of an 8oz ball of terror) Maybe I could set it down on the other side of the deck railing and run like hell for the back door. That was what I decided to do. Can you just picture that, an adult running from a small fluffy kitten? Sounds funny now, but man, was that thing mean.
What ever became of Killer you ask? I dropped him and ran yelling for the back door. I did re-catch him one day (yes, I know that I didn’t learn my lesson) and when he was safely in the cat carrier and howling, and my mauled hands and arms were bandaged up, I called the vet to let them know I was on my way. The vets office informed me that no, surgery day was next Wed, I was too late, and could I try again next week?