Here’s the story about my decision to keep Mulder…
On Wednesday I took him to the shelter because he weighed two pounds and he was ready for his “snip-snip”. He screamed bloody murder in the car the entire way. And I don’t mean just loud meowing either. He sounded like MWOOOOWWWW-OWWWWWW-OWWWWWWW. And the tone was angry, anguished and terrified. I dropped him off and tearfully drove home assuring myself that I had done all I could do for him and that I had given him a good start in life. I told myself that I did not need more animals because I had enough to care for and that Mulder would certainly find a nice home through the shelter system. I called the next day to check on him and was told he made it through surgery and would go to the kitten room on Friday for adoption. All day I felt sad. Every time I thought of him going to someone else’s home I got a gut wrenching feeling in my stomach. I asked Jim if I could keep him and he said yes. (I don’t deserve that guy, but you knew that already.) 🙂
So, I called the shelter, and asked them to hold Mulder for me until I could get there Friday Afternoon. I arrived, and was led to one of the rooms in back where they have cages of cats and dogs awaiting surgery. I could hear him before I got to the door. He was screaming above all the other animals. He was soaking wet and encrusted with cat food and kitty litter. His arms were poked through the bars and waving wildly in the air. The technician said they had to isolate him because he was terrorizing the other kittens. Normally the cages contain an assortment of kittens so they can give each other comfort. They said that as soon as he regained consciousness he started tumping over his water and food bowl and throwing kitty litter out of the box. I was told he had not shut up for the entire time he was there. A tech took him with her to wash him off and then she managed to put him on a dry towel inside my kitty carrier. He continued to scream and reach through the bars. The adoption process took 20 minutes. Screaming and reaching continued throughout the process and many of the employees looked at me strangely, wondering, I’m sure, why ANYONE would want to take such a snarling beast home with them.
The car ride took 30 minutes. His pitiful wailing got louder and louder and started to sound more like a moan than a meow. I was certain that he must be in terrible pain from his delicate surgery and my heart was just wrenched. My nerves were frazzled by the time we pulled into the driveway and I was prepared to make him a recovery room in my office so he could return to the land of sanity in peace and safety. Not necessary. As soon as I opened the cage door he shut up and began purring like a Peterbilt. He jumped up on my lap and licked my lower lip. I scratched his head and he closed his eyes in ecstasy. He then proceeded to smell each of the other Burlingame pets, ending with Olivia. He tackled her and held her in a headlock until she squeaked. He has shown no lingering effects from his traumatic experience whatsoever. I made the right decision. This cat belongs with us for sure. He knew it before I did.