About as feral as my kitchen table......

There are a lot of groups on Facebook devoted to cat rescue.  Many rescue groups work hand in hand - understanding that it doesn't matter WHO helps a cat, as long as a cat is helped.  There's several animal control services in the area, most of them are fairly good, but there is one in particular, Hamilton Animal Control, that is a terrible place to be if you're an animal.  They are kill-happy, and tend to not really investigate ANYTHING about the cats that come in... They just assume and carry on.  Basically, if a cat swats, hisses, growls, or does anything other than just sit there like a lump, they can be deemed "feral".  Nobody takes into account the simple trauma of being in that environment.. small cramped metal cages, unfamiliar noises, the smell of suffering, foreign things, and fear.  That kind of environment could put ANY cat over the razor's edge and cause them to act defensively.  Unfortunately, being marked "feral" at HAC means being marked for death.  Once that happens, the clock is ticking for any rescues who want to help.  Once "vet day" comes, the deed is done, and there is no help for the dead.

One particular little black and white (Aka Cow Cat) was getting a lot of chatter in the rescue groups.  She had a big nasty injury on her cheek... something she had received from being trapped.  The door of the trap came down on her face, and removed about 3/4 of her cheek.  The injury had not been tended because she was hissing and growling...   She was marked as "feral".  The timer was ticking, and Vet Day was only a few days away.  The race was on to see if she could be saved.

Lomasi in her HAC picture.  The mark under her left eye is the injury she sustained from being trapped.  No wonder she was traumatized!  The fear in her eyes is obvious.

Part of the issue with rescuing cats from places like HAC is that most of the wonderful people who want to help can't necessarily get there to collect a cat.  And only approved rescues can "pull" from there.  A rescue had to agree to pull a cat (essentially sponsor their vetting, adoption, etc) in order for it to be saved, but then comes the matter of GETTING it to safety.  There were a lot of busy people and it was tough to find a ride for this girl once a rescue stepped forward... and there was also the matter of where would they go?  Most of the rescues do not have the capacity to deal with cats this damaged, and it was easy to tell just from the look in her eyes that this cat was horribly traumatized by her experiences.  Moved, and determined to help this poor girl, I volunteered to take her if a rescue could pull her and we could arrange a ride.  The race was on!

Neveah's Charity of West Lincoln, run by an amazing firebrand of a woman named Lori Dudley, stepped up to the plate and agreed to help out this girl.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, Lori is a HUGE fan of "cow cats" (a favorite of ours as well, considering we have three), and really wanted to help this girl.  I hadn't met her or worked with her before, but all of my network said that she was a fantastic lady, and that NCWL was a reputable, honorable, and excellent rescue.  Perfect!  I would be working with them to get this girl out... now to get a ride.

Things were starting to get frantic, as the clock was ticking, and as the search continued for a ride, Vet Day arrived.   Generally things start to happen around 11 am, so the window of opportunity to save this "feral" cat was in full swing.  Finally, an amazing lady in rescue who does many of these "delivery" operations stepped up to volunteer, and we finally had everything we needed to get the black and white girl out!   The "pull" was arranged, the volunteer arrived, and not a moment too soon.  When she arrived, there was just under an hour until "D-moment".  Talk about a near miss!  One hour longer, and all hope for this girl would have been snuffed out.  Now, she really had a chance....

Everyone celebrated.  Relieved that one more innocent life was spared a sad, lonely, terrifying end for no other reason than being unwanted.  .  I was nervous, not sure what to expect, but knowing full well this cat would likely be severely traumatized, and would have a long hard road ahead of her.  I was definitely right.

The angelic rescue driver arrived, carrier in tow, and we chatted for a few minutes while she set the carrier down and let the kitty have a moment.  I could see she was huddled in sheer terror at the back of her carrier.    She was in full meltdown mode, generally a good sign of PTSD.  Not even the presence of other cats could bring out any curiosity (another sign of complete mental shutdown).  This girl REALLY needed our help!  The angel-driver left, and I moved Miss "Feral" up to a quiet room to decompress.  Even with her carrier door open, she refused to come out.  She was ok with me sitting close to it, but any quick movements would have her cowering and cringing, trying to practically crawl into the ground.  The poor thing was fully in trauma.

I put my hand close, and although she would hiss and growl, never once did she lash out.  This was a hopeful thing for me, because if she isn't lashing out, she's not aggressive, she's just defensively posturing.  Can't say as I'd blame her in her current state.  I was pretty concerned about the injury on her cheek though, and let Lori know I wanted to take her into the vet to get it looked at.  It was an awful injury, literally a millimeter or two higher and she would have lost the eye.  She was lucky, but an infection could still come to a nasty end, so I wanted to be sure.

It was easy enough to get her into the carrier (since she'd never left), so I closed the door and carted her off.  She was very afraid at the vet... but something very good happened there (aside from her getting needed meds and a clean bill of health overall).  The vet clinic has a resident cat... a lovely little boy who himself was a rescue.  I noticed that when he was in the room or close by, this little girl would calm down.  I asked them if he could stay in the room during her exam, and they were fine with it, but I realized that perhaps having other cats help me to reach this girl would not be a bad idea.  Armed with meds and a plan, we came home and settled her back in.

At the vet they had logged the cat as her HAC number, because she didn't have a name yet.   I asked Lori if she had a preference, but she left the name in my hands.  A beautiful cat deserves a beautiful name, and after poking around the internet, I found one I felt was suitable.  "Lomasi" - it means Pretty Flower in native american (Cherokee, I think).  She's a beautiful cat, and it seemed to fit.  Lomasi was our choice.  Our pretty flower had a long way to go, but flowers are things of hope, and we had a lot.  One thing I definitely knew.... this cat was about as feral as my kitchen table.  I thank all the powers of the universe that she's still around so she can prove it.   We just had to get her there.....

(To Be Continued..)