Meow! My name is Harry
found a new home!
Plenty of my friends are looking for one too. Find a pet to adopt.
Other Pets at Shelter...
Rescue Group: Chicago Cat Rescue
|Breed:||Domestic Shorthair||Color:||Orange Or Red (Mostly)||Age:||Adult|
I was pretty certain that this orange boy was feral. He looked the part; rough around the edges, banged up, definitely unaltered. I was wrong. I wish I'd take my own advice at times. How often have I cautioned others that you can't tell a cat's true personality until he's out of that trap?
I took Harry home from the spay/neuter clinic, thinking I would heed the words of a staffer. "Harry needs an indoor vacation", she had advised. Harry definitely looked like he needed a vacation.
He had done a nice job of banging up that big head of his while in my trap. He'd had an allergic reaction to some medication, and his face was bright red and swollen. Harry needed a break from the streets, and although I hadn't planned on catching him, when you set out a trap, you have to deal with and help whomever shows up.
Harry isn't feral. Harry is a lap cat. Once home, I realized my mistake. Feral cats don't scarf up plates of food in front of you, even when they're starving (which is most of the time). Feral cats don't readily sack out on a perch as soon as they reach their new digs, and they definitely don't purr and roll over for tummy rubs.
Week One...Harry slept. I suspect he was catching up on all the good nights' sleep that he'd missed in his lifetime.
Every last one of them. And he ate, plateful after plateful of food.
Between eating and sleeping, Harry wanted to be petted.
Week Two...Harry began to look and behave like an indoor cat. He had shed the scabs on his face and cleaned himself up. He discovered catnip cigars. Meals became less of a priority, as Harry focused more on the limited amount of time I have to give him. I've tried repeatly to take pictures of him, but it isn't easy to capture a cat's image when he doesn't want any air space between you and he. Harry believes in staying in touch.
Week Three...Harry is lonely. He follows me to the door of my foster room and sometimes cries when I leave him. He won't eat until we've had some "quality time" together. My laptop still worries him, but no longer does it chase him from my lap, where he looks at me with an expression of sheer wonderment. Life is good. I see it in his eyes. I feel it in the way he presses his body into mine while I write, in the way he lifts his face to mine so that I can kiss his sweet nose.
They all break my heart: the young kittens who try to nurse on my clothing because they still need their mom; the "first child" of the family, who somehow lost her home when the real kids came along; the senior pet, whose only crime was growing old. But cats like Harry, who have never known a home, claim a special place in my heart. Harry makes my heart weep. I cannot fathom what he has endured in his struggle for survival, and yet, his trust in humans remains intact. I wish my faith in my own species hadn't been compromised a gazillion times on behalf of the Harrys of the world. I wish I understood why he doesn't turn away from me, instead of showing me his belly, or shoving his big, gentle head into my hand, over and over again.
Harry isn't feral. Harry is a house cat. He just needs a house.
If you are interested in adopting Harry or giving him a foster home that's an improvement on the small room in which he now resides, contact Cindy, 773/203-0215 or firstname.lastname@example.org.