The Road Less Traveled By

A lot of people ask me how I got involved in rescue..and why animals.  It is not a terribly difficult question to actually pinpoint that moment when it all changed for me.  The moment when I decided this was the road I was meant to travel.  With you I shall share my tale.

I am pretty sure I always loved animals.  I cannot remember a time I didn't.  I grew up with animals my entire life.  There was never a moment when there wasn't at least a cat laying at my side as I absently stroked their soft coat as I did my homework or watched television as a child. 

I remember I was about 7 years old.  We had a whole colony of cats living in our tiny backyard in Brooklyn, NY.  Winter was setting in, the air was turning cold and I was worried.  Some of them would come close to me but many of the cats were afraid.  We had Trouble and Frisky -- our two cats upstairs that lived with us.  My grandma lived in the downstairs apartment in our house on East 26th Street and she had a cat, a beautiful white Persian - Puss...and I would steal her cans of catfood to feed my colony outside.  I wasn't dumb enough to take the cans from upstairs because I knew I would be busted.  Grandma was no fool and she knew what I was up to but there was never getting in trouble with her so I decided to chance it.  She ended up going to Waldbaums buying dozens and dozens of cans of the store brand because 4-6 cans a day was expensive and she did not have a lot of money.  Grandmas are good for that -- supporting the little habits of their grandchildren...like feeding stray cats.  However, we still had the issue of the cold winter setting in so I began to think.

My father, a master carpenter always had scraps of wood in the basement left over from old projects in a large bin.  I smile as I fondly remember the magenta colored bin with all sizes and types of wood absently tossed just as you came down the stairs and rounded the corner.  I loved going down into the basement (once I realized there WASN'T the boogeyman my sister said there was) and smelling the fresh cut wood.  It was one of my favorite smells as a child mainly because it reminded me so much of my dad.

I watched my dad work countless times building furniture and fixing things.  I headed to the scrap bin to begin my plans.  I knew I couldn't cut the wood myself and I began to pilfer through my treasure.  I was going to build a shelter for these cats so that they would have a safe place to survive the upcoming cold months.  I may not have been able to use the saw but a hammer and nails were available to me with some crafty climbing and I set to work.  A little rough looking but serving a very important purpose I surveyed my masterpiece and carried it out to the backyard with a great deal of effort.  I placed it in the center of the 10 x 10 backyard and ran in to my accomplice -- my grandma for the remainder of my needs.  I took towels and blankets and everything I could get my hands on that grandma would allow.  I couldn't get them heat but I figured they could snuggle in between the layers of blankets.  It didn't take long before the cats came to check out the new addition.  I remember we had a pretty good rain and it soaked all the blankets breaking my heart.  My shelter was not working as I intended.  Head down, shoulders slumped I cried in my grandma's lap.  She wrapped her arthritic hands around me and listened to me sob and just promised me it would be ok.  The cats would be fine and it was more than they had before, she took the soaking wet blankets and set to wash them.  I remember the smell of the rain and the grass soaking into the cloth vividly...the cool earthy smell mixed with the delicious sweet aroma of the fabric softener grams used.  She gave me a tablecloth to place over the top and I waited for the next test of weather...SUCCESS!  The shelter never leaked again!  Although it was not to the credit of the cheap table cloth..but as I realized decades later...because my dad snuck out at some point and made the necessary adjustments to my shelter without saying a word.  My dad isn't a man of many words but he is one of action.  My whole life if I needed something done, it just.... got done.  He never looked for credit or praise.  Seeing his family happy was all he needed. 

I watched my colony every chance I got from my Gram's bedroom window which faced the backyard.  I watched them interact every day slowly beginning to trust me until the point when I came out to feed them they would all come running.  Without meaning to I had gained their trust, slowly but surely.  The younger kittens I was able to hold the older cats would come close enough to pet but I knew my limitations.  I think this is when my ability to read both animals and people began to develop.  Little did I know their new trust of humans could very well be what led them to their demise.

Slowly, one by one - my cats began to disappear or would come to my backyard to die.  In our old neighborhood in Brooklyn all of our backyards were adjoined to one another but separated by chain link fencing.  Someone, or many someones did not like my colony and began to poison my cats.  Soon, my colony was gone.  I remember a lot of heartache.  I remember crying in the arms of my grams and my mom.  I remember being confused and not understanding why.  I remember all the naivety of being a little girl.  I remember the heavy loss of a colony I raised and nurtured.   I remember pulling the shelter apart because my heart could not bear to see it empty another day.  I remember my parents being quite possibly the angriest I had seen them in my short life and my father setting out to "speak" to the neighbors.  I am not sure what happened exactly but I can imagine.  My father, even now his 60's is a man with a presence.  Everyone in our neighborhood was smart enough to not get in my dad's way..especially with with matters involving his wife or his daughters.  I chuckle to myself as I write that.  My father is not a terribly tall man, or very large but he always seemed larger than life and formidable.  I am a lot like my father for better or worse.  I stand at a mere 5'1" but I stand tall and many fear me.  I have a fierce personality.

With my loss, I now began to understand WHY the cats feared me - the humans they were beginning to trust were the humans who betrayed them.  It didn't matter that it wasn't ME that brought them harm, it was humanity. 

Here is where I had my first significant choice in life -- a choice that would forever define me.  I could have easily thrown in the towel and given up on animals deciding that the world that was teaching me betrayal at such a young age was winning.  No matter how hard I tried someone would come along and take that away from me.  Some people may have easily made that decision but my mom, dad and grams were my biggest supporters and they taught me that anything worth having was worth fighting for.  There were no more colonies in Brooklyn but my love, passion and willingness to help animals didn't stop there.  I would come home with stray dogs, cats, frogs... anything and everything that I found wandering the streets.  Other people took the road clearly defined by the millions before them.  The road they could walk down and never have to see the ugly side of the world, the world of abandoned, homeless and unloved animals.  I took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.

 



Great Things Take Time

Wow.  It has been over a month since I have posted last.  I am so sorry to all of those who follow faithfully and have been left in the lurches.  We are still here to fight another day, Sal and I.  At the end of the day that is all that really matters, right?  Surviving to see another sunrise!

There is so much for us to catch up on in the last four + weeks, assembling my thoughts and trying to figure out where to even begin is intimidating.  It makes me sad to not be able to write as often. Writing is therapeutic and lately I could sure use all the therapy I am able to get, but yet again life has gotten away from me.  It seems no matter how hard I try to get it back it continues to move further and further away.

As I write this blog, next to me is Marina.  She is a 5 year old "unadoptable" black cat we adopted along with her litter mate, "Calla" 4 years ago in January of 2009. Really quickly...when we adopted Calla and Marina we did so with the intention of adopting 2 bonded cats that could not be separated.  They were both black cats and Marina was terribly frightened, shy and did not like to be handled.  The rescue figured if she was still like this at already a year there was little hope of her being adoptable.  JACKPOT.  I wanted animals that no one else would otherwise want.  It took Calla a few days to adjust to our busy home but she did fine.  Marina on the other hand hid for the better part of a year.  She was 4 pounds and did not put on much weight on that first year.  She ate to survive and she hid.  I gave her as much comfort as she would allow and I gave her what any living thing needs...love and time.  Marina finally came around.  Although she is closest to me and will still mostly hide from anyone else she has proved to be an amazing companion cat who shares my pillow at bedtime every night and the dogs 20-25x her size do not even phase her.  She has found her comfort and security.  She generally is not around much during the day, but today she sits by my side as I type urging me to continue reminding me, "Great Things Take Time"

Now, getting back to why we are all here... Sal.  It has been a difficult 4 weeks.  Although the view of the doorway to his soul has been closed by one with the loss of his eye - is health has greatly improved by leaps and bounds.  His fur is turning white, he is grooming himself, any and all signs of his URI have finally gone and he is eating like the strong healthy cat he now is.  Although all of this is fabulous news it comes with a down side.  With Sal's increased strength and improved health his aggression is more pronounced and his attempts to frighten me off have more vigor.  Good thing for us both, I am not one to be easily intimidated.

For those of you who do not follow our facebook page, the last month or so has been an emotional roller coaster.  Sal had to undergo enucleation surgery, which is the removal of an eye.  The poor conditions of the Brooklyn ACC had become quite ill.  A month of steady antibiotics cleared his upper respiratory infection, but he ended up with an eye infection - and with him being feral it was near impossible to treat without compromising any trust I may have gained.  I had to choose the lesser of two evils - saving the eye (although likely not the sight) and pinning him down 4x a day fo treatment leading him to never trust me, or removal of the eye that was already damaged beyond repair visually and be able to continue to grow in our relationship, so naturally and with a lot of tears I chose to remove the eye.

We have had some amazing support in our short journey thus far and our fans keep growing!  We have over 530 now I continue to be humbled.  Everyone came together to help cover his $700+ Veterinary bill and we had a wonderful donor donate the wonderful crate condo Sal is currently occupying.  Life has been very difficult for Sal but after the rain - rainbows!  (That was on a card my mom bought me once when I was down and that always stuck with me) 

So, today is a new day and a busy one.  As I prepare myself for the unbearable heat that is shocking us here in NY all week...I have chickens and ducks that need cold fresh water that I must tend to... I remind myself -- instead of suffering or dying on the streets of Brooklyn or in the Brooklyn ACC alone, frightened, sick and now hot - my latest charge is nestled in his cat bed that was one of the generously donated items from a fan in the cool air conditioning never having to worry about a meal again - meowing at me as I sit here no doubt looking for the wet food portion of his day - I see a beautiful cat that I dreamt last night I got to hold.  Life may not be fabulous, but it sure beats the alternative...and we have to remember... "Never give up, great things take time"

The Soul of Sal

Many people often wonder if animals possess a soul.  Those who find themselves in doubt and wonder have never truly looked into the eyes of an animal.  Martin Buber was right when he said, "An animal's eyes have the power to speak a great language"  In the short-time Sal has been HOME I have seen so much in those eyes of his.  I have seen enough pain and hurt in those eyes of his to bring me to my knees.
 
I force myself to read every single post of an Urgent -- Death Row cat so that I never forget what the truth is in the world we live in.  The hateful lack of compassion and responsibility of us as humans that our animals pay the price...with their lives.
 
I am fully aware that I cannot save them all.  As much as my heart screams for these innocent beings sentenced to a fate they do not deserve, I try to be realistic.  I have a young family and responsibilities.  I have a lot of animals at home.  I know what is involved in rescuing an animal.  Emotionally, financially.  I know the time that must be invested and I am well aware my days grow shorter and the needs of so many in my charge grow greater.  I promise myself once I have this baby and I get things once again settled I will become more active in the rescue world as I once was.  I will find a GOOD Organization this time, one that will appreciate me, my effort and respect what I know and what I do well.  One that will use my knowledge and experience to their benefits and not be threatened.
 
When I first saw Sal's picture among the thousands of postings of cats on death row, I was captivated.  Not by his beauty, not by his story and not by the plea to "Please help save this boy" that I have read hundreds of times over on every single posting.  I saw his eyes - beyond the sedation he was under... I saw his eyes and they called out to me.  I had to do something, and I could not let this boy die.  If he died, it was MY failure.  Somehow he chose me.  Fate doesn't always wait for the perfect timing, I know this - but it is our job to answer that knock.
 
When Sal was first brought home his eyes were clouded by anger.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Pure anger.  I don't even think there was room for fear because he was so consumed by this fury - presumably for his treatment over the last -- I don't know HOW many years.  I talked to him gently about nonsense.  Nothing in particular, nothing important.  My goal was simply for him to get used to the sound of my voice and hope that the day would come that he would find comfort in that sound.

Over the next 2 weeks his anger gave way to fear and trepidation.  Sal recognized he was in a new place but he was so very sick I don't think he could really focus on what was going on.  After vet visits, treatments, patience and love from everyone in his new family the last few days have brought both warmth and hope to my heart.  I have mentioned a few times, I believe, of the warmth and compassion of my children.  Rowan, my oldest prefers humans to animals but she loves them all.  I think she just can relate to people better, but she is sure to stop by his crate every day and tell Sal, "I love you".  This morning on her way out the door for school she doubled back and came back in the house because she forgot to tell Sal she loved him.  Olivia, my middle one has a natural gift with animals and they sense that about her.

However what I saw last night both amazed and humbled me.  Animals tend to do that for me.  I am often humbled by the true soul and passion of an animal.   

Yesterday evening I moved Sal into my sunroom.  I felt the 3 walls of windows facing out into the lush greenery of my backyard would be therapeutic.  Sal was yanked from the streets of Brooklyn.  Streets I grew up in for 25 years -- only I had a warm loving home to go to at the end of every day.  I don't know WHAT Sal had or for how long but I knew Sal did not have THIS.  His crate is raised above the floor and he faces the world.  A different world than he is used to, a world where there is peace intertwined with nature.  Where chickens and ducks free range among a colony of barn cats who protect their friends and have no idea of a "food chain".  He sees a world where there is beauty swing sets and the laughter of children.  He can slowly acclimate himself to his new world, a better world.  A world that was always out there -- waiting for him.

As I was cleaning his crate with disinfectant, refreshing his food and water and chatting away through his growls and flat ears, Rowan came to see what was going on.  Whenever I am missing for more than 30 seconds she always tends to come looking for me.  She sat down on the chair next to Sal's crate and began jabbering away, as Rowan (much like her father) tends to do.  She was telling him about the boy in class who sticks his tongue out all the time, and her friend who broke her arm falling from the monkey bars.  She was even telling him about her up coming "Field Day" at school and that she has to wear her own green shirt, because I didn't buy her the field day one.

What I saw next sent my heart into my throat as I bit my lip in an effort to fight back the tears.  Sal was listening intently, ears up and his usual tense body gave way to a more relaxed one...but that wasn't the half of it.  His EYES.  His eyes that were finally wavering between fear and a cautious curiosity I saw peace.  It was almost as though someone waved a magic wand over him and he forgot painful past that he spent so much time in.  A past that bred mistrust, hate and fear of people.   He seemed so happy to listen to her prattle on, and I was all too happy to share the audience.

I think on some level Rowan knew it too, which is why she made sure she said she loved him this morning.  Rowan loves all of her animals, but somehow I like to think she has awakened her on soul by reaching out to Sal and touching his.  It was as though something passed between the two of them last evening.  Will it happen again?  I honestly have no idea.  Do I hope it will?  Of course.  If it doesn't, it wasn't meant to.

But when I looked into the eyes of my cat after Rowan had went to bed, I finally saw something I thought it would take years to accomplish.  I saw a flicker of peace in the eyes of an animal that had none.  As he looked deep into mine I think he finally recognized he was HOME.

We still have a long road ahead.  Sal is no where near where he needs to be, but I am grateful my girls are awakening parts of their own souls and parts of Sal's that were long since forgotten.

Tonight when I came home from work, the peace was gone, the fear returned and I cried.  I cried because I knew peace was in there, peace could be found and he would finally find his peace with us.  I cleaned up his crate again, and I whispered..."enjoy your view Sal.  It will be yours forever." and I believe I saw his tail flick.

Why We Fight

I would like to apologize to everyone for the delay between posts.  Time always seems to get away from me and before I know it - days pass in the blink of an eye.  I juggle a lot of things in my life - but they say busy hands are happy hands.  It is very difficult for me to stand idly by and do nothing.

Let me give you a little background on ME, the kind of person I am.  I am passionate, committed and a fighter.  I always seem to go that extra step which many people won't for the sake of keeping the peace.  That is not me. I will take on anyone, alone.  I am a firm believer in fairness and that people should be held accountable for bad decisions.  I go against the grain and often.  I am called dramatic or a trouble maker, but I am fair, I am stubborn and I am tough.  I don't back down.  Maybe I am wrong for not being the type to conform, the type to hold my ground and the kind of person who holds firm to a belief - even if it is not what everyone else thinks.  Maybe, I live my life the wrong way but one think I will never be is a victim but, like any one else I have bad days that I think about giving in and giving up - but then I remember, anything worth having is worth fighting for.  I am here to defend the defenseless.  That is my purpose in life.  I stand, alone, against the world.

This is true in anything in my life, and this is true for my Sal.  I rescued Sal aware of possible health issues but I wasn't prepared for what I was told when we saw the HVARS clinic on Friday.  Sal was sedated, given fluids, vitamins and steroids.  He was extremely dehydrated and his kidneys were enlarged.  This generally is an indicator of kidney issues, quite possibly kidney failure.  Basically, what his means is there is very little hope of his recovery...or so they say.  I suppose they would have euthanized him there, but I would be damned if I was going to let him die like that.  Alone, in the back of a mobile unit.  If I had no other choice, he would leave this world in my arms, as safe and comfortable as he could possible be, with someone who loved him.

I spent the 45 minute drive home bawling and apologizing to Sal for not being enough for him.  I cried at the injustice of the world.  I cried for all of the animals I have saved and all of those I could not.  I began to bargain with God if he could just spare the one animal who has already suffered so much and realized I had nothing to offer in return.  Not a single thing.

Sal was put in his carrier with his back facing me, even in his groggy state he found the strength to turn himself around to face me.  He stared at me with big green eyes the whole way home.  His eyes seemed softer, less angry.  He even allowed me to rest my hand on the door of the carrier and he put his head down and seemed to pray himself.  We drove home in silence.

We finally got home, I put Sal back in his crate still groggy.  He didn't even hop in his box or his cubby.  He laid between the litter box and his bed box, put his head down and fell asleep.  I sat and watched him sleep terrified he was going to leave me.  I vowed to Sal I was not going to give up on him.  I would not let him die if there was anything at all possible that I could do about it. 

I offered him some more kitten milk and some chicken livers.  He drank the milk, the livers didn't seem quite as appetizing.  (I cant say I disagree)  He was slow, but was up and around a little bit more after seeing the vet and for once I felt a little bit of hope.  I got up the next morning and there was a lot of urine and even some poop in the litter box!  We were making progress and I was sure - whatever was ailing Sal we were going to fight, beat and show the world.

Sadly, Sunday and Monday weren't as successful for us.  He is back to refusing to eat or drink, and his URI has his nose all clogged once again.  We will hopefully be able to get back to another Vet from HVARS on Friday - and perhaps get a long-term antibiotic into his frail body.  The mobile vet did not have on available.  They apparently only have a 15 day shelf life, are very expensive and it becomes wasted if only used on one animal and then usually tossed.

This is not the end of the line for Sal.  Some days the fight is harder, but I will never give it up.  I am human and some days the struggle is just all too much for me to bear but then I am reminded that I have a very special gift - a heart.  I will not forget to use it.

Welding Gloves and Woes

Today is a new day!  We all woke up this morning and no one forgot our newest family member.  We went to bid him a good morning.  The kids were excited and even my 2 year old, CJ grabbed his sister's doll, Marie from Walt Disney's Aristocats calling "Cat! Cat!" excitedly.

Trying to keep in mind this is only his second day here I went to his crate hopeful but prepared for no change.  When dealing with a cat like Sal you have to remember this isn't a movie, we hope for the best - but expect the worst.  He was still in his cubby but signs of his Upper Respiratory Infection became less subtle and more prevalent.  Mucus crusted around his nose, although thankfully the sneezing hasn't started yet.

He still hadn't gone to the bathroom or eaten a bite.  I had some salmon in the fridge from dinner 2 nights ago so I decided to warm that up and see if the stronger smell would urge him to eat.  I brought him another offering of food and he was back to his hissing - although he did not growl.  I choose to take this as a sign of him easing up.  Sometimes we see things as we want - not always how they really are but it helps us to keep going.

Brooklyn, my colony leader slept in the bed closest to his crate.  She is not the most welcoming and tends to give all the others a good swat when they come too close but her instinct seemed to have caused her to back down in her alpha role.

Brooklyn is a lovely "feral rescue" story, but a simple one.  Likely once a house cat, she ended up on the streets of Brooklyn which was my home for 25 years.  I have been gone from Brooklyn for a while now and the rescue I worked with at the time (here in Putnam Valley)  had a volunteer who worked in Brooklyn.  She saw this pregnant cat, took her in for her to have her babies safely and then she was going to have her spay and release her back to where she was found.  She knew I was looking to begin a colony and she asked me if I would like her.  Who am I to say no?  So, "Big Momma" became mine, and she became Brooklyn.  She eased me into the world of feral colonies very nicely and spoiled me.  She was the PERFECT barn cat.  She would work with me in the garden and follow me around for all of my "outside chores" with the chickens, duck and rabbits.  She is a wonderful cat who is quite friendly - although she prefers the outside.  She had no interest in coming into my home.  She is happy sleeping in her bed in the garage and bringing me mice and small birds when she knows I am sad.  She has become my confidant with whom I enjoy talking about the ups and downs of my life.  She is a diligent listener and although will tolerate being picked up for a hug, she prefers her belly being rubbed.

Today we ran some errands.  The animal handling gloves I ordered won't arrive until Wednesday so I went to PetSmart looking for a pair to hold me over until then, but they do not carry them.  I left instead with some treats and some holistic remedies that are supposed to calm cats down.  I am new to the holistic world and I have never dealt with an aggressive cat with this kind of a background so I am happy to try anything...next on our errands was Home Depot where I picked up a pair of Welder's Gloves.

I know there is a low risk factor but I need to be responsible to my family and the baby on the way.  It is not ideal but it is the reality.  I did not PLAN on adopting a feral right now, as I have mentioned before - Sal chose me with those sad eyes.

I couldn't wait to get home!  I wanted to "suit up" and get my paws on his paws.  At the very least clean those leaky eyes and that crusty nose.  I walked to his crate feeling good and I came back in the house sobbing quietly.

I reached my hand out to him and rest it just in front of him.  I am aware the gloves do not make matters much better but they are a necessity for the time being.  I leave a hand there and I talk to Sal gently.  I told him about my find in Home Depot and he just glares at me.  He doesn't look down to my hand and keeps his eyes on mine as I continue to prattle on about the whole day.  What we did, where we went and I even told him about the strange woman we saw in one store.  I laughed a little as I recounted her conversation with an employee and I thought for a moment I saw the tension in his back ease - but the second he saw my hand move he was back on the defense.

I finally tried to reach out to him an attempt to grab him by his scruff and just clean all the crud away from his face.  I half expected him to sigh and fall into my hand but I know this is not going to be easy, and I am right.  He hisses, growls, spits and claws repeatedly at my gloved hands.  I try to reassure him but it is falling on deaf ears.  He flies out of the cubby and into the litter box... I am hoping him being in the open will benefit this attempt.

I reach out to pet him hoping that the touch of a kind hand will put him at ease.  I hope beyond all hope - because when we do things like this in our lives - what keeps us going is the hope beyond all hope.  I am hopeful of him relaxing immediately under my touch, that he is able to feel every ounce of love I have for him and that he will sense I will forever protect him, love him and provide for him.

But when we do things like this, we know fairy tales don't happen in 2 days.  He growls again and begins to tremble and sway back and forth rhythmically. I know the fear is overwhelming and I refuse to be the cause of it for him.  I retract my hand, close the crate, beg him to please come out of the litter box and back into his cubby and I PLEAD with him to eat something.  I mixed in a teaspoon of the "Calming" liquid in his water and I tell him again that he is loved, he is safe and I am ok waiting for him to be ready.  We have nothing but time, and no where to be.  That has become our second mantra... nothing but time and no where to be.

Not every step in our journey will be easy, or happy -- but they are steps that we must take or we will never reach the destination..

Day of Delivery

Today is the day!  The Mayor's Alliance scheduled delivery of Sal between 1:00 pm and 2:00 pm.   I bustled around the house on my day off in an attempt to make myself nice and busy so that the time would fly.  I basically just did laps around the house not really getting anything done and then I began to get anxious.  1:00 came and went, 1:30, 1:45, 1:46...47...48...49... *ring*  Mayor's Alliance will be here in about 30 minutes!  In all my efforts to make the day go by faster, I noticed I haven't even set up Sal's crate.  His new "safe spot" until our acclimation period has passed.  Time to get moving.

Once everything is bleached out, scrubbed down, fluffed and done - I check my work, smile to myself and think, "This cat is going to be as spoiled as the rest of them"  I survey my work one final time, tug on all the panels of the crate and make sure everything is safe and secure.  If Sal escapes, our journey is over and I have failed.




The Mayor's Alliance arrives, a lovely woman, kind --  obviously in a rush with cat deliveries.  I know how important those are, so I graciously accept my paperwork and medication, she brings him into the garage for me and tips him into his crate.  He steps out, crouches between the litter box and the bed ears flattened and looks at me.  The kind woman thanks me for my work, I thank her for hers and watch her pile into her red Ford and pull out of the driveway.

I walk back over to Sal, I kneel down and sigh.  His eyes are runny, he is cleaner (although still a mess), ears flattened to his head, although more alert than his picture his eyes are clouded by fear. I think to myself for a moment, this is really a remarkable beautiful feline.  I  knew before he came to me it was going to be a long road ahead.  I slide open the latch on the crate and reach my hand in tentatively.  My gesture is met with a hiss and a low growl.  I slowly pull my hand back, close the latch and assure Sal that I understand.  I am not angry he reacted this way and I know how frightened he must be.  I explain to him the food I have placed for him in his crate, and I ask him to kindly use the litter box provided.  I explain to him his bed, and his cubby and why I chose the accommodations I did and which one I thought would be best for him.  The growling and hissing made way for a hard stare. His gaze was unwaivering but cold.  Until this moment, I did not realize just how long the road would be.  Good thing for the both of us, we have no where else to be.

I go back inside the house and begin to hustle trying to get the regular chores of the day finished, but I can't think of anything else but Sal.  I look up, and it is just about time to leave to pick the kids up from school.  I grab my keys and my phone, open the garage.  I let Sal know where I am going and I assure him I will be back - with a few more people to love him.  He blinks from inside his cubby in acknowledgement, I stare at him a moment longer and I jump into my Suburban.

I pick up Olivia, my 4 year old and CJ, my 2 year old from Day Care and head off to the Children's Center to get my oldest, Rowan, 5 1/2 from her After School Program.  Once everyone is in the car, they request McDonalds for dinner.  I sigh with relief that dinner will be simple tonight and we drive off. 

I tell the girls I need to discuss something very serious with them.  I had no idea the conversation was going to head in the direction it did.   My children are well aware of my obsession with animals.  I have 3 large breed dogs, all rescues.  I also have 3 indoor only cats - rescued.  I have a colony of outdoor barn cats, chickens, ducks and rabbits.  "We save things" my kids mimic.  "That is what mommy does, she saves all the animals"  From the mouths of babes, if she only knew how many animals I just cannot save, but she is too little to have her heart weighed down with such sadness.

"Girls," I begin "this is very important and I need you to listen to me."  I am speaking more to Rowan than Olivia.  Olivia is all me and she has the ingrained animal instincts.  She loves the animals and is a natural with them.  She still needs supervision and guidance - she IS only 4 but she has all the makings of her momma.  Rowan, on the other hand has a sweet, sensitive soul but she is more "people oriented".  Rowan has dreams, as most 5 1/2 year olds do of becoming a doctor, because she wants to help people.  They're good kids, test their bounds, but... good kids.

Rowan gets very serious.  She is an old soul, wise.  She loves the serious conversations because she is treated like a grown-up.  I see her big brown eyes in the rear view mirror open, gleaming, ready to absorb whatever "Seriousness" I have for her.

"What is it Mommy?  What do you have to tell us?"  I take a deep breath, quickly formulate exactly how I need to explain this on a Rowan level, which is a bit more delicate.  Rowan is easier when you are honest with her.  She understands a lot more than I wish she would.  I exhale and I begin.

"Today, we got a new cat.  He was going to be killed, and some very lovely people helped me stop that and he is going to come live with us," I begin

"Why do they want to kill him?" Rowan asks me, very serious and beginning to understand just how serious this is.

"Well, they don't WANT to kill him, but they feel they have no choice.  So many cats are brought in to this shelter and there is just no room.  When there is no room, they cannot keep so many" I try and keep the explanation honest and simple, but that is so very hard to do when the answer is anything BUT simple.

And this, this is when I knew - of all the mistakes I have made as a mother, all the wrong choices I made, bad examples I have set, I knew I was leaving the most important legacy behind that I could ever hope in all of my life.  In all the wrong I am doing the most important thing right.  I am raising NICE children.

Rowan sighs, and very matter of fact begins to explain just WHAT is so wrong here.  "Mom," she begins "we need to be KIND and RESPECTFUL to each other.  Not just to people but to animals also, right?  Why can't everyone just be COURTEOUS to everything, then they won't need to kill the animals, right?  Why do the animals go to this place?  If they kill them, why do they go there, who BRINGS them there?  Can't they go somewhere else?  Why can't they all come live with US!"

I can't find my voice.  If only everyone was kind, respectful and courteous, but now is not the time to get into THAT conversation.  My children believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny... winged faeries that sprinkle dream dust...and that all it would take to save the world, is KINDNESS.

I tell Rowan what a wonderful little girl she is and how I wish, we COULD have all the animals live with us, but she reminds me, "Daddy will kill you"  Yes, he thinks so.

We arrive home and I pull into the garage.  Rowan and Olivia can't wait to get out of the car to meet Sal.  Rowan is first to his crate and I remind her again, "NO FINGERS IN THE CRATE.  HE IS FRIGHTENED AND MIGHT BITE"  I am met with an eye roll, and a wave off.  5.  5 going on 15.

Rowan tells Sal not to worry, he is going to be safe here and is telling him how much I love the animals and how good I am with everyone.  She explains to him he doesn't have to worry about dying now.  I won't let anyone kill him.  He is home, he is safe and she is going to love him.

Olivia stands off to the side, not very patiently waiting for her turn.  Rowan grabs her baby brother and walks him inside, chatting about her day as he holds her hand and listens like a typical male -- with only half an ear.

For those of you who know my dear Olivia, she has 2 volumes.  Loud and VERY loud.  She steps to the crate and in a soft voice begins her "animal whispering" reassuring him, explaining to him the rules... that he cannot eat the chickens and to not worry the dogs won't eat him.  Sal doesn't utter a sound, and he just listens.  Olivia is definitely mine.  She bids him a good night and promises to visit again in the morning.

We all go inside, finish our dinner... watch some TV and jammie up.  The girls make me promise to kiss Sal goodnight.  I bring CJ up to bed and then the girls.  Once I know they are settled, I check on Sal again.  He still hasn't budged from his cubby.  Hasn't eaten or drank or used the litter box... I open the door and once again tentatively reach in... and am once again met by a growl and a hiss.  I smile, tell him it is ok, I understand.  I close the crate, assure him tomorrow is a new day and I will see him then.  I beg him to eat, promise him he is safe and head back in for the night.  I think again to myself, neither of us have anywhere else to be.

I am not changing the world by leaps and bounds but I am changing the world around me and that is even better.  I am leaving behind a legacy of love.

Death Row Deadline - Step One

It is often said, we do not choose our animals, our animals choose us.  I am a firm believer this is true.  Time, circumstance and fate is what brings us together with our four legged or two...furry or feathered soul mates.  Whether it be the loss of a pet that opens our home for another one or one that shows up on our door step there are forces beyond our control that unite us with the pets that we need and that need us.

So, here begins my journey with my first "Death Row" rescue. Sal.  I am hoping to give an honest and heartfelt day by day recount of the journey that Sal, who will be soon have a new name with his new life - in the hopes to inspire and encourage people who think that rescue is "too much work"

Sal entered Brooklyn ACC on May 12, 2013.  Here is his posting information, in which I did not eve bother to read.  I saw a picture of a "feral" cat, tranquilized into submission.  His weak eyes even through a computer captivated me and I knew a new chapter in my life had just opened up.  I knew I had to have Sal, that Sal belonged with me.

Brooklyn Center
SAL - ID#A0965079

... I am an unaltered male, white and br tiger Domestic Longhair mix.
The shelter staff think I am about 4 years old.
I weigh 11 pounds.
I was found in NY 11225.
I have been at the shelter since May 12, 2013.

MALE, WHITE / BR TIGER, DOMESTIC LH MIX,4 yrs
STRAY - STRAY WAIT, HOLD FOR DOH-SCR Reason DOHREQUEST
Intake condition NONE Intake Date 05/12/2013, From NY 11225, DueOut Date ,

Medical Behavior Evaluation RED
Medical Summary SCAN NEGATIVE BRIGHT, ALERT, RESPONSIVE, HYDRATED dirty, matted coat; moderate tartar/ gingivitis and calculi Aggressive; striking, hissing & growing abrasion on forehead from attempting to get out of trap abrasion on lower eye lid; injured nails and nail pads sedated: 0.2ml telazol IM for exam
Weight 11.0 

I scanned through his intake information.  I am no stranger to the feral feline, and Sal was something I could handle right now.  My home is small and already full enough for us with 3 large breed rescue dogs, 3 rescued cats and 3 small children -- 5.5, 4 and 2 - with another one due in November.  Yes, we have a full house - but it is a happy home.

I immediately sent a message to my friend Trish and began sharing and sending pleas all over Facebook to bring Sal to me.  Everything happens extremely quickly at the ACC.  Cats are listed and killed beginning 6am the following morning.  My saving grace - was his DOH hold (Department of Health) because he scratched someone.  Most people think I am insane for taking a chance on an aggressive animal.  The people who know me, understand why - perhaps that will be another blog.

After a lot of chaos, a lot of calls and emails - Hudson Valley Animal Rescue and Sanctuary stepped up to help both me and my new pal, Sal.   Karen made the pull.  Sal was still on DOH hold, but once it was released - he was mine.  We did it!  We saved...ONE.  It always begins with one.

After an eternity of waiting, Sal went in to be neutered on Wednesday May 22 - and will be heading out with the Mayor's Alliance for arrival at is FINAL destination.  HOME.

And so, tomorrow, the journey will begin.  A cat tagged as feral, aggressive and as most would see him - hopeless.  I see opportunity for healing.  It will be a long process.  Sal has been betrayed by humans and it will take him a long time, if ever for him to once again trust.  My goal is for him to find safety, solace and peace at my home, now his.  My hope - is for a friendship.  I am pleased with either result.





"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step" ~Lao-Tzu

Sal, tomorrow - STEP ONE







I would like to take a moment to mention there were TWO cats that day to be pulled, but Fuzzy - a chocolate long haired female, with an adorable left hind leg of beige was not as lucky.  By the time HVARS was able to get a hold of the ACC to make the pulls, Fuzzy was already euthanized.  I don't know how many cats are never given the chance, but it was my first failure as a rescuer and I cried for the soul I couldn't save.  The grim reality is there will be more losses in my life of animal rescue and rehabilitation, and no - I will never be ok with that.