Quote:
Originally Posted by Patricia
My daughter would really like you, Ricky. She too rescues cats. At the moment she only has three: one was found abandoned in a ditch, and is now very happy and healthy. The second was a kitten abandoned on a local mountain. She's since lost her tail in an accident, but seems to be managing well without it, and has recovered from a couple of months of spine paralysis. We think that she got run over by a car, but can't be sure.
The third was left for a month in an empty flat and found by bailiffs who were repossessing it. He survived by drinking water from the toilet bowl, and is recovering from kidney damage. He's put on some weight and is a slim black cat. My daughter has named him after Nelson Mandela, on account of his unjust imprisonment.
My own cat was a rescued animal, but died at the age of 16.
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Well, I like you already and I'm certain I would like your daughter too. One of my cats, Peyton, was used to "blood" a fighting dog. That left her with a broken neck and back, so she was partially paralyzed for a while. But lots of therapy took care of that. Now, she moves just fine ... but doesn't much like the other cats (except for Brian ... sweet, socially inept, Brian). She doesn't much care for me either, come to think of it.
Newton was about 17 when he finally died (he was my first rescue). It was AIDS that finally did him in. He got an infection that just wouldn't be cured. I was so depressed for so long after he died. And Winston (my second AIDS boy) just sat by the door waiting for his best friend to come home ... day after day for months.