The summer continued and so did the kitty-traffic. A cat was brought into the clinic after being in a accident. However, she did not have an owner, at least, not one that we could locate. She spent three weeks in hospitalization, only thanks to one doctor at the clinic who refused to euthanize her. It was a difficult call though, since the cat had been hit on the head by the car.
She was suffering from brain damage.

At first, she had no awareness of what food and water was, let alone what to do with a litter tray. She also went blind because of the accident. The first couple of days, they had to force-feed her while she recovered. She could stand in front of the bowl, even have the food pressed against her nose and she would still not respond, although she was clearly malnourished. After a couple of days though, she regained some awareness of what food was and although she still needed some help, was able to eat and drink.

However, she still had no clue of what a litter tray was. She also did not know where she was, and the blindness continued. It was decided that she would get one more week to recover, and learn how to use a litter tray. Because, be honest. Who is going to adopt a cat who is not capable of using a litter tray or going outside? She recovered ever so slowly. But she did improve. She asked for cuddles, and followed the sound of your footsteps throughout the clinic. She purred happily when she was fed and finally realized that she put her paw in the water or food bowl when she did. All these little signs were so hope giving, if it weren’t for that damned litter tray-issue.

Yeah, you guessed it already. Our Falcor finally joined us. You see, once you’ve accepted three little kittens in your home because they have nowhere to go, you cannot possibly say no to any other kitten that follows. And in my line of work with kitten-season at its highest, that is not going to take very long.

Not long after the grey kittens had found a home, I got a phone-call at work: this guy had found a four-month old kitten along a dangerous crossroads and since it was already late, no shelters were open. He had nowhere to keep it and he was leaving on holiday the very next day. I tried giving him some numbers from our database, in an attempt to find the kitten a good home, but when push came to shove, he dropped it off at the clinic after I sighed on the phone: “I will take care of it”.

I tried calling shelters myself, but all of them were packed, there was just not enough room for the kitten flood that every summer produced. Add to that the amount of animals that gets abandoned because it is time to go on holiday and well…I did not really have any other choice than to keep him. What was I going to do? Toss him out?

And so it came to be that our Falcor(then still ‘the white one’) occupied our bedroom. I have a reasonably sized apartment but with four cats already there, it was getting crowded. So I closed off the last part of it, being our bedroom. He was not much trouble there, only occasionally bored. Even after a while, I kept him in the back. Arwen was still infected with the Herpes-virus and could therefore infect him as well. I had him vaccinated as soon as possible, and he had to still be confined for five days for the vaccination to take effect.

As our sweeties grew, we were presented with a problem…We had decided to go on holiday that year, for the very first time, and we were to visit my grandparents in Spain. But, now I had brought home these little fluff balls, which needed not only feeding but medicating as well, we were in trouble.

Luckily, living not too far from us, we had two very understanding friends. A couple who had agreed already to take care of our three adult cats, and who had two cats of their own (which I helped pick ;)). They were up to the challenge of nurturing and medicating these gremlins for about a week.
Before I left, I told them:” Do not fall in love with them, we will come and claim them within a week.”

When it was time to leave them at their place, I had some severe separation-anxiety issues to work through. I finally managed to tear myself away from the three helpless fuzz balls I had been entrusted with three weeks ago and went home. Feeling immensely guilty, I left for Spain.

It took me two days to stop worrying about them and feeling guilty for abandoning them, but I finally managed to enjoy my much needed and deserved holiday. I occasionally got a message telling me they were fine.

When we got back I picked them up as soon as possible, only to find my friends facing the same problem I had had before leaving: they did not want to part from those fuzzy little creatures. Eventually I was able to pry them out of their arms, which was accompanied with a lot of sobbing and ‘last cuddles’. We were home again and I was once again charged and up to the task.

Here I was with three ‘happy’ cats, a cute little household, working at an animal clinic. Does it get any better than that? Well, that depends on who’s telling the story I guess.

There is one side to working at a veterinary clinic which I did not have the stomach for. I had broken the rules for that before, and I was about to do it again. Last time though, I had found a solution for it, this time, I took the problem home….literally.

Can you imagine getting a call from a woman who is completely hysterical, because she found three young kittens, who are borderline dead according to her and does not know what to do with them? And when you explain to her the options (coming to the clinic and paying to put them out of their misery, or bringing them to the shelter), she almost has a fit when hearing the word ‘shelter’. So you tell her to drop by and have them looked at.

A peaceful household with three cats, is that so much to ask for? Well, apparently it is.
Prinny and Lulu are two very different cats, and that was made painfully clear to us by Prinny. Lulu loved to tease her, and basically tell her in her own way: “lighten up.” Unfortunately, our new little kitten didn’t know when to stop and did not understand the kitty-lingo variant of ‘NO.’
The occasional scuffle through the household didn’t seem to be a problem until Prin decided she had had enough.

At that time, I had a room filled with boxes, blankets, your typical I-desperately-need-to-clean-up-here-but-I-don’t-get-around-to-it room. And of course, one day, there is something in that room that I need, and as I dig it out, I find what most cat owners cannot appreciate: a room used as a litter tray. So I started clearing out, forced to make it my priority. And I found that Prin had filed a protest against the Lulu, and that Trini occasionally joined in. And I can tell you, their protest was hard to ignore.

So I turned again to my books, trying desperately to find a solution, because I can tell you, there is nothing fun about having to clean up after your kitty at least three times a day(and that’s on a good day). And I watched the interaction between my cats until finally…I understood Prinny.

It turned out that when Prin went to the litter tray( I had covered trays at that time), and started digging the hole in the sand, Lulu would turn into a little possessed monster. She would hear the sounds in the box, and, enjoying a good hunt, she would sneak up to the box, climb on top of it, and wait for the Prinny to get out. The unsuspecting Prinny would then be pounced the moment she set a toe out of the box. Naturally, Prinny did not enjoy this treatment, and filed for a ‘Remove the black little monster’-complaint.

So, I have two sweet kittens that get along just great, a boyfriend, a job, but do I stop? Noooo, I run out and get a third cat. And despite all the challenges, I am glad I did. But the challenges were definitely there.

While helping out at the shelter, there was one cat that caught my attention. Actually, there were plenty, but this one was very special. She was about 2 years old, pitch black, two fiery yellow eyes, and stayed at the shelter with her mother. Since I had been contemplating the idea of a third cat, I inquired, but it turned out her card said she needed a garden, and since I had an apartment at the time, it seemed not meant to be.

Her mother though, found a new home without a garden, although the card said she needed one, and it went very well. Nobody seemed to be interested in ‘Snoopy’ though, as her name was back then. I pondered the idea, of course, but since Prinny and Trini had had such a rocky start, I wasn’t sure.

Winter turned to Spring, and ‘Snoopy’ was still with us. Five months she had lived indoors at the shelter and even worse…with the season of kittens ahead of us, her chances of getting out of there were getting slimmer by the minute. Add to that that the shelter did not have that much room available and they are not allowed legally to refuse any stray cats….well you can do the math. The staff started putting a list together of the cats that were severely ill, old or had been with us for a long time. I didn’t know this when I made my decision, but I am glad I decided to take her home, because she was on that list. I figured since she was able to live indoors for five months in the shelter, she was up to living in an apartment.

After a month or so of bringing my first kitty home, I decided that Princess, also known as Prinny, or Prin, needed some company. I went to work every day for eight hours and my boyfriend still spent a lot of time abroad back then. She was very clingy and needy when I came home, since she was so attached to me.

(This was of course before I knew that Russian blues are known for their intense bond with one particular human and their antisocial/sensitive behavior towards other animals. Apparently they don’t like sharing their territory and attention)

I asked my friends at the shelter to look out for a ‘tricolor’, a cat with a black, white and red coat. I had had one before I left home and it had been my best friend for years. It was my way of showing that I hadn’t forgotten about her.

A week later I got a call that he had the perfect playmate for Prinny. Her name was Prutske(which is a very common and boring name in Dutch). She was incredibly shy for such a large cat, and had been in the shelter for about a week. She was about 3 years old.

When I brought her home, the first thing I did was give her a new name: Trinity (yes I was inspired by the Matrix, so sue me). The three colors which made such a nice quilt on her back made ‘Trinity’ definitely the right choice, not to mention the fact that she had that horrible name to start with.

I had just spent two years without cats, after moving out of my parents place and I was just about to go nuts. I decided to help out at a local shelter and maybe look around for the perfect kitten.

When I got there, I helped clean up and feed the cats. We were just about done when I found this very interesting scratching post: it came with an extra paw. When I approached it, this blue paw was waved my way, accompanied by some lovely background music. The growls and hisses finally subsided, and the paw was back drawn inside, after I minimized my movement and talked a bit to the scratching post. When I looked into the hide-out at the bottom of the scratching post, I saw the most beautiful creature to have ever crossed my path: wearing a shining blue coat, this tiny marvel stared back at me with pain, anger but most of all fear in her eyes. Her pupils were completely dilated, and every muscle in her body was tensed up.

As I talked to her, I put my hand ever so slowly at the very entrance of the box, and waited. And wouldn’t you know it, her curiosity won out. The one predictable thing about cats, that little bit of knowledge enabled me to help her overcome her fear. When I petted her ever so softly under the chin I got the most bizarre reaction: She leaned in and surrendered to the cuddles. She had been in dire need of affection for weeks, but her fear had kept her locked up in that box.

Suddenly the rest of the staff came in and they were cleaning up, so they made a lot of noise. She jumped back to the back of the box and had her paw ready. I asked them to keep it down and got some information on her. Turned out she was had been here two months but no one had ever seen her. And judging by the ribs (which I could count), she had been eating the bare minimum to then run back to her hide-out.