What happened when a non cat guy adopted disabled kitten

[Cotton1]

[Hoosier8]

Aww. A friend and I run an exotic cat rescue. We have had our share of cats that are not adoptable due to physical issues or age so I end up taking care of a lot of them. I have one now that was adopted out three times but evidently has a mental issue as it goes haywire at times and attacks the adopters so of course returned. I have her isolated now and my sister suggested I have her put down but that is a very hard decision as I have never had a problem with her but she has always been somewhat secluded from other cats.

[Madison]

This is so adorable! Great cat and great guy too !
Heartwarming

[MisterVeritis]

Aww. A friend and I run an exotic cat rescue. We have had our share of cats that are not adoptable due to physical issues or age so I end up taking care of a lot of them. I have one now that was adopted out three times but evidently has a mental issue as it goes haywire at times and attacks the adopters so of course returned. I have her isolated now and my sister suggested I have her put down but that is a very hard decision as I have never had a problem with her but she has always been somewhat secluded from other cats.

The cat who owns me is a rescue cat who was returned time and again. She bit and scratched me (as in bleeding, torn flesh) frequently for the first few years. When it was time to get her teeth cleaned the vet told me she was missing most of her teeth. She had a tough early life. I imagine she must have been in pain. I have a cat rule. I never strike her. But when she does bite me or scratch me I yell at her and chase her until she finds a place of safety under the kitchen table. Then I leave her alone until she comes to me. Each time, all is forgiven.
These days she rarely bites me.

[Hoosier8]

The cat who owns me is a rescue cat who was returned time and again. She bit and scratched me (as in bleeding, torn flesh) frequently for the first few years. When it was time to get her teeth cleaned the vet told me she was missing most of her teeth. She had a tough early life. I imagine she must have been in pain. I have a cat rule. I never strike her. But when she does bite me or scratch me I yell at her and chase her until she finds a place of safety under the kitchen table. Then I leave her alone until she comes to me. Each time, all is forgiven.
These days she rarely bites me.

I had an acquaintance that I took care of his two cats while he was in rehab for meth use. He did well and got the two cats back but while I had them I took in what appeared to be the little young cat for a teeth cleaning (because her breath smelled like death) and ended up having 11 teeth removed. He did recompense and they are his true friends that helped him get through his troubles.

[Hoosier8]

We also have a local that sits outside of Starbucks with his cat on a leash and accepts help from passers by. He got her spayed at the local low cost spay and neuter but she ended up getting pregnant anyway so a bad spay (I don't take my cats there) but he found homes for them.

[carolina73]

I always start out with NO! Not another cat or dog. But those critters know how to turn people quick.

[Hoosier8]

My rescue partner's uncle was not a cat person. He took one of the Persians from us and now has four. Non cat people end up being cat people.

[Standing Wolf]

In 2010 one of my coworkers told us that she and her family had been staying at a motel over the 4th of July weekend. Her kids and some others had discovered a litter of kittens and had scared off the mother, bringing the kittens away, oblivious to the fact that they were too young - about four weeks - to be without their mom. Being from a dog family, she was clueless as to how to care for the little one her kids had brought to the room, so I told her to bring it to me.



I had him checked out the vet and got some special canned kitten food to give him, and he appeared to be eating, or trying to. After a few days, however, he was cold and listless and had lost an ounce or two - I was carefully weighing him each day on a postal scale. Fortunately my vet has Sunday hours. He was given intravenous fluids and I was given instructions on helping him to eat - essentially just slowly syringing soft food into his mouth once every six hours.

I was waiting for the feline HIV test to come back before naming the little guy. The first test was inconclusive, and I had to wait another few days for the results of a second test. When it came back negative, I cried from sheer happiness.

He was too small to sleep in the bed with me - I was afraid I would roll over and crush him - so for his own safety he stayed in a carrier at night. I put a big plush kitty in with him to give him a "momcat" to cuddle with.



He had a "littermate" to play with in the daytime, too.



The "6" on his back gave me the idea to just call him "Six", but then I remembered how Patrick McGoohan's character in 'The Prisoner' was assigned the number six...which is how Patrick got his name.



I had thought to keep him separated from the big cats a while longer, for his own safety, but Patrick had other ideas. He scaled every barrier I erected to deter him and was soon hanging out with the rest of the tribe.







Over the years it developed that Patrick was diabetic, so he got insulin every day and had his blood sugar monitored periodically. He was also prone to a condition where the intestines become too weak to function properly, so there were treatments and a special prescription for that, and eventually, after a little over eight years, a couple of operations - which were not a success. He'd had enough and it was his time.

Now I remember how even in his last days before going into the hospital for the final time, Patrick would come up on the sofa and lie next to me - just hanging out with Dad/Mom even though I'm sure he didn't feel good at all and, like a cat, would probably have preferred to suffer in solitude. He was my little buddy to the end.

[Hoosier8]

In 2010 one of my coworkers told us that she and her family had been staying at a motel over the 4th of July weekend. Her kids and some others had discovered a litter of kittens and had scared off the mother, bringing the kittens away, oblivious to the fact that they were too young - about four weeks - to be without their mom. Being from a dog family, she was clueless as to how to care for the little one her kids had brought to the room, so I told her to bring it to me.



I had him checked out the vet and got some special canned kitten food to give him, and he appeared to be eating, or trying to. After a few days, however, he was cold and listless and had lost an ounce or two - I was carefully weighing him each day on a postal scale. Fortunately my vet has Sunday hours. He was given intravenous fluids and I was given instructions on helping him to eat - essentially just slowly syringing soft food into his mouth once every six hours.

I was waiting for the feline HIV test to come back before naming the little guy. The first test was inconclusive, and I had to wait another few days for the results of a second test. When it came back negative, I cried from sheer happiness.

He was too small to sleep in the bed with me - I was afraid I would roll over and crush him - so for his own safety he stayed in a carrier at night. I put a big plush kitty in with him to give him a "momcat" to cuddle with.



He had a "littermate" to play with in the daytime, too.



The "6" on his back gave me the idea to just call him "Six", but then I remembered how Patrick McGoohan's character in 'The Prisoner' was assigned the number six...which is how Patrick got his name.



I had thought to keep him separated from the big cats a while longer, for his own safety, but Patrick had other ideas. He scaled every barrier I erected to deter him and was soon hanging out with the rest of the tribe.







Over the years it developed that Patrick was diabetic, so he got insulin every day and had his blood sugar monitored periodically. He was also prone to a condition where the intestines become too weak to function properly, so there were treatments and a special prescription for that, and eventually, after a little over eight years, a couple of operations - which were not a success. He'd had enough and it was his time.

Now I remember how even in his last days before going into the hospital for the final time, Patrick would come up on the sofa and lie next to me - just hanging out with Dad/Mom even though I'm sure he didn't feel good at all and, like a cat, would probably have preferred to suffer in solitude. He was my little buddy to the end.

Wonderful story. I can't tell you how much I have done for ill cats. I can also say that I have learned a lot over the years and know much more what to do.