Well, we are fairly certain that Girl aka The Invisible Cat has died. We haven’t seen her since Sunday. Sweety went to the pound to see if she’d been picked up by animal control (which would have been weird anyway since she never went farther than the tree in the front yard) and she wasn’t there. I combed around here to see if she was stuck somewhere and didn’t find her. Sweety’s said she was around 16 or 17 years old and we think she just crawled off somewhere to die.

Something odd? When I was leaving to run errands Saturday morning I looked at her and said, “Hey, Girl – you’re fixing to leave us aren’t you?” Then I cried on the way to Target because I thought she would be gone when I got home. (Um, I also puked my guts out the whole way too due to the severity of my hangover. I was feeling extra emotional that day.) She was still there and I gave her lots of love in the driveway and told her how surprised I was to see her. I gave her extra wet food Saturday night, she was out sunning herself Sunday morning and that’s the last we saw of her.

Part of me wonders if I jinxed her. Sunday afternoon we went shopping and bought the biggest flat of canned cat food the store had so we wouldn’t need to go back soon. I’m going to take it to the shelter this weekend.

That second photo? Farthest that I’d ever gotten her to come into the house. I guess months on a wet food diet will make even the most suspicious cat let down her guard once in awhile.

She had a good life.

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A little after 2 p.m. today I peeked in on H0t P0cket and could tell he wasn’t doing good at all. Since I gave him a bath on Friday night, he’d actually been perky Saturday and yesterday was hopping around the garage and rubbing up on me when I went out so I thought he was going to be okay.

But I could tell he dying today. I sat and talked with him for about an hour and he didn’t move much. Just moved his head around so I could pet it. He went through all of the horrible things animals do right before they expire and then he did.

Before they left, the neighbor had said if he died while they were away that we should just bury him in the wooded area behind our fence. I was afraid something would dig him up so I buried him in our backyard instead.

I’m glad that I happened to be off today so I could be there for him.

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I am so pissed off.

I decided to give the neighbor’s neglected cat a bath and bought some waterless shampoo. It has the consistency of hair mousse. You’re supposed to rub it on the cat til it’s soaked and then dry it off with a towel. I was going this route because I was afraid he’d have a heart attack if I gave him a real bath.

Came home and sat down outside with him and followed the directions. I have one moussed up cat and I start toweling him off. But it’s just pink stuff coming off on the towel and his hair looks weird. He’s too dirty for this.

I take him inside to gently give him a water bath. Put him in the dry tub and fill a cup with warm water and pour it on him. And it’s pink too when it rinses. What the hell?

I make it my main mission to get his head clean because it is completely black with what I think is dirt. Realize as I’m scrubbing that it isn’t dirt – it’s blood. And HUNDREDS of fleas come pouring out from under his face/head scab as I wash. As he gets completely wet, see that he is totally infested with fleas. It seems they’ve concentrated on his head because he can’t flick them away since he only has one back leg. That’s why he’s so skinny. The fleas are killing him. But I don’t have any flea soap.

He’s all limp in the bottom of the tub and I don’t know what to do. It seems wrong to get him all wet and just give the evil fleas a bath without killing any of them. I want to go to the store for some baby shampoo so I can thoroughly wash his head without hurting his eyes and get some flea shampoo. I’m afraid he will die while I’m gone and I don’t want him to die alone.

So I swaddle him up like a baby and tote him into the store with me to buy the shampoos. I cover his head and nobody notices. I got him home and washed and dried him the best that I could. I wanted to let him stay in the house with me til he dried off but he is still a flea farm. He was just so weak in the tub that I didn’t want to push it.

I went out in the garage and petted on him awhile ago. He’s drying off and started purring. I so hope he doesn’t die. If he makes it, I’ll give him a couple of days and then bathe him again to try and get all of the fleas.

He is so skinny that you can’t poke your pinky between his shoulder blades. That’s how close together they are.

You can tell a lot about people by the way they treat their animals. Sure, your house is all tidy and you act all nice when people are looking…but I KNOW how you are.

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Jeni commented in the previous post…On another note. I can’t believe you have a cat. I feel like this is the first time you’ve mentioned it and that cat must have a lot of resentment. That would be like me having a dog I never mentioned. It’s like the cat doesn’t even count.

I’ve never really mentioned Girl (Creative name, yes? Sweety named her.) because I just don’t have a lot to do with her. Sweety said she showed up in his yard about 16 years ago and he had her spayed and kept feeding her.

She’s weird. When I first moved here, I vigorously tried to get her to be an inside cat by leaving the garage door open but she would have none of that. She’s an outside cat 100%. Once in a blue moon, she’ll come in when I’m bringing laundry in from the garage but she runs back into the garage as soon as I turn around. Or when it’s cooler and I’m in the the kitchen, I’ll leave the garage door open and she’ll come in but no more than just a couple of feet inside the door.

She’s picky about being petted. It can only be done when she feels like it. It happens about once a week. Sometimes I try to pet her and she runs away and sometimes she’ll grace me with her presence for a few minutes. She’s been getting wet food to eat for the past couple of weeks. I figured her days are numbered and she should at least get something to eat that she goes bonkers over.

You know what I’ve discovered she likes the best? Canned dog food. She gobbles that shit up whereas if it’s canned cat food, it may sit out all day til I toss it. Stinky and Tiny aren’t too pleased with this but they’ll get over it. Wait, do you think she’s expressing a preference for their food on purpose? To piss them off?

This is the best photo I’ve managed to take of her. She’s camera shy.

And this?

This is H0t P0cket. He has a “real” name but I started calling him that 7 years ago when he lost his leg. The stump reminds me of one of those frozen dinner pockets. He’s the one I called a 3 legged bastard. I realized today though that he is not one of the offending cats that’s pissing up the place. The neighbors have a whole crew of young, spry, asshole cats and it’s them.

He’s spending the night in our garage tonight. He’s been hanging out in there all day and it’s too late for me to bother the neighbors by bringing him home so he got some wet food along with Girl for dinner.

I’ve always had a soft spot for HP because of how far he’s fallen in life. One minute, you’re a fat orange cat…loving life…sleeping under your owner’s car…and the next? BAM! You are fuckity-fucked up with one appendage gone and you can’t scratch your own ears anymore so they swell up like sopapillas and then they get all shriveled and crunchy.

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