It's a Happy New Year for Cotton-Cat

Here is the photo you've all been anxiously awaiting. Yes, it's Cotton the cat - in repose. Ellen says she requires much maintenance than her previous cat. I dunno. Do you think she looks like a princess?

Hard to imagine that only days before this snap, Cotton was an abandoned cat with a cold, who was - seriously - knock-knock-knocking on heaven's door.

Happy New Year to Cotton and all of you!

How to adopt a cat

We got a tip from Ellen's cleaning lady - try the Maricopa County Shelter. After a delicious burrito lunch, Richard, Larry, and I headed forth to the place. Lots of barking dogs...seemed like a place where animals were in residence. Three billion people lined up in a space designed for twelve facing a high counter with mostly closed wickets. A ticket dispenser on the far wall - we pulled 03 - only 10 away from service. While waiting, we searched out the cats and found a row of them in what looked like a pet-sized penitentiary. They howled and pawed at the bars like so many desperate prisoners. Some cages bore plastic signs declaring the pet's age, gender, and reproductive status - with a cheery "Ready for Adoption" attached.

Only the kittens had names. We settled on a blue-grey girl of 4 years, and took the sign back to the counter. The line was hijacked by several non-number carrying folk. Those of us on the sidelines silently seethed. Some not so silently.

Eventually, we were called. We want to adopt, we say... The agent of bureaucracy-gone-mad behind the counter wanted to know if we had visited with the chosen pet. Ah, no... She handed us a swath of paperwork and told us to go outside, go left and left, and have a supervised visit with the animal. Then we could come back, select another number, and wait.

We cleverly took a number prior to heading out for our "visit."

The visit did not go well. Blue-grey girl was very skittish and afraid. Probably not a suitable pet for Ellen. So we went to our fall-back position. A lovely grey and white girl of 6 years with a persistent sneeze. (Many fostered sneezers have made me an expert in this problem).

Yes, we'll take her. Better yet, she was already spayed and could be taken immediately.

Well, not immediately... several years later when our new number came up, we filled in more paperwork, paid our $25-Christmas-special-price and lined up at another location to have the cat brought to us. Apparently, this cat was destined for the big litter box in the sky before Christmas. Now she lies contentedly on our bed. Lucky cat.

Looking for clever name suggestions...

Tempe, Arizona: Winter Wonderland

Here I am in the desert, choking back the fumes of the SUV's and enjoying the poisonous fruits of the american dream. Jeez. The amerikans sure know how to consume. It's all spend, spend, spend. Not that I do not engage. I say, when in Mesa, spend like the now financially bankrupt city. But try to adopt a cat? That is a challenge. I thought there would be a robust adopter's market for senior cats in need of a happy home. Apparently you have to have a social worker and financial report as well as blood work before you can even get on the list.

Ok, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but it is much harder than I anticipated to pick up an old, on-its-last-legs, cat for my elderly mother-in-law to replace her much missed Kit-Kat, who shuffled off the mortal coil last month. I've contacted 3 shelters. In three jurisdictions - Mesa, Phoenix, and Gilbert. Each shelter's website gives a thousand reasons to donate a thousand dollars to the rescue and happy home finding for stray and unwanted cats, but can't come up with a live pet. They are all somehow, mysteriously, "fostered" out.

The shelter we visited today could have been part of a set for a Clint Eastwood movie when he was deep in his Mariposa days. Old, rundown house, masquerading as an animal shelter. I saw one live dog and quite a few wild birds in the tree in the junk-strewn yard. And several staff attached to telephones. We filled in a profile not unlike those I have filled in for medical treatment. How many people live in the house? Is it noisy? Busy? Are there people at home? Other pets? How old are you? What happened to your last pet? Provide an affadavit to prove that the euthanization of your last pet was as a last resort and not just due to the inconvenience of changing its drip every 4 hours.

Stuff like that.

Meanwhile, I have been able to spend copious amounts of money on unnecessary gift items. And my mother-in-law, who thinks she is 90 (and why not? She's close enough) is slipping in and out of lucid thought. But she is very, very sweet and amiable. And the home support Christine arranged has turned out well. That is the news from this end of the universe.

I miss my girls. The vet from Rupert called today while I was being turned down again as a blood donor (no, not because of any reasons you are thinking... it is the low iron thing). They had a spot open up to have Phoebe relieved of those women's parts that I have hoped to be relieved of. Unfortunately, I was unable to present Phoebe for surgery in the requisite 30 minutes.

That's what's going on here. How about you?

Ben, Tim, and Nick