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I met the gang for dinner Friday night uptown at the Mexican restaurant. Bekka was there with a new friend. She introduced me as the dog woman for all the dogs I have and herself as the cat woman for all the cats she has. After dinner, she, her friend and I were talking in the parking lot when Bekka spotted a small kitten under a portable building beside the trash dumpster. The restaurant stores extra stuff in the building. We walked over to the building to check out the situation. There were three young kittens huddled under the building. Looked to be about 5-6 weeks old.

As soon as one came near me, I snatched it. Bekka looked at me and asked, “Are we going to catch them?” I said, “yep.” So we went to work trying to call them, bribe them with food and push them with anything we could find. There was a slow steady stream of water flowing past us keeping the smell of garbage under the building moist. It was that nasty, kind of sweet smell of rotting food we were trying to not get on us. After several more minutes, we managed to catch kitten #2. By now, we had the local police department offering us flashlights… they were there to watch the parking lot.

Kitten #3 was very shy and had been almost caught three times, so his fear level was high. Plus he did not know where his siblings were. After trying to catch cats for more than an hour, Bekka said we had to call it quits. There were adult cats monitoring us in the distance and the kittens had survived to this point under that building, so I had to agree with Bekka’s decision.

However, I could not sleep that night. I kept waking up and thinking about the scared little kitten alone in the garbage under the building… or hopefully, it was under the building and not out looking for his siblings.

In the morning, I fed the kids, cleaned up the yard and headed back to the restaurant. As I approached the building, I meowed and immediately, the kitten meowed back. He was there where we left him. Thank goodness! So I began trying to catch #3. The area was worse than the night before. Somehow the darkness and the margaritas from the night before made the area better than the heat and the daylight of Saturday morning.

The kitten was hunkered down in a nasty pile of garbage almost in the center of the building. He would meow, but he wasn’t moving much. I tried to poke a broom near him but he was not bothered by it. I found a long piece of pvc pipe and used it to push him towards me. Once he was close, he crawled under the beam about two feet from the end of the building… just out of any easy reach. I did not want to waste any lunges towards him for fear of missing. After a couple minutes, he ran back to the center and hunkered down. In a split second, I wondered if I would be able to catch him. It had never even crossed my mind that I might not.

For the next half hour, I tried several things… poking him, offering smelly canned dog food (he was almost interested in that), meowing. Then I played my trump card. I asked Merrietta to help me.

Merietta passed away a few years ago. She was always a big cat lover and always had bunches of cats. Prior to her passing, she had set up a cat rescue organization up north on Delaware. She has been there for me on several rescue missions, so I asked for her help. I have no idea how long you have to wait for such a request to be filled. I would imagine that Merrietta has her hands quite full in her new position… from her place in heaven, she can help cats all over the world. A much bigger reach than she had here on earth. So I kept trying things and asking Merrietta for a bit of help when the kitten stood up and made a cautious zig-zag towards me. And once that boy got close enough, I SNATCHED him!

I was so ecstatic! I sat there on the curb for a few minutes rubbing and kissing on him and counting all his fingers and toes. I was so excited he was finally going to be back with his siblings. So I put him in a carrier with some food, put him in the car and headed for Bekka’s house.

Thank you, Merrietta.

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The cattery for Otis and Layla is done (you can click the photos to see a larger images). Of course there are some little touches I want to add, but the cats are in. Layla appeared in the street last Wednesday after some rain showers just as they usually do at dinner time. I went over with two cat carriers. I tricked Layla into one of the carriers with food, brought her back across the street and released her in the cattery. Boy, she was a bit freaked (what, being surrounded by dogs is scary???). I went back for Otis and could not find him. It took me quite a while to find him. I looked for him, but came back home. Then went back, but came back home again.

I started wondering if I should take Layla back across the street and release her until I could find Otis. I made one last attempt to locate him, bringing the carrier along with me through the woods. And bingo!, I found him. What a relief to me.

Otis took to the new digs like he had been there for years. Layla has been a bit more nervous, but things are working out. Their cattery is about 20 feet outside the dining room window. Whenever the weather permits, I have the windows open, so Otis and Layla can hear all our noise — me talking, the dogs barking, the stereo, the tv — and feel like they are a part of us. Or so that’s my thinking.

I have been reading about diet and nutrition for cats with leukemia and am going to try some holistic food for all the cats in the house for a month to see if it makes a difference in anything. I think it will be most important to Otis and Layla, but the reading I have done will make you leary of most pet food. Of course, it is important at this point to note that the “kids’” diet is probably far better than mine. Maybe I’ll just start eating what they eat… ha, ha.

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A neighbor down the street moved out of their home towards the end of December — a foreclosure situation. They took their horses and dogs, but left behind two cats. So I started feeding them. Same time each day, twice a day. They became accustomed to the schedule and even started looking for me at the appropriate time. They became friendlier, letting me touch them.

Then they decided to move closer to my house. One day as I was walking down the street to feed them, they came running towards me across a sometimes busy road where people drive too fast. They stopped in the middle of the street when the neighborhood dogs — including my own — started barking at them. Finally I got them on my side of the busy road in the woods across the street from my house. Hopefully, this will acclimate them to the sounds of the dogs at my house.

I set them up with a doggy igloo stuffed with hay so they had a warm, dry place to sleep. And put their water bowl and feeding dishes several feet away from their igloo in case the raccoons discovered the food bowls.

Otis has an injury to his right rear foot where it seems he cannot use it, but he hobbles along pretty well. One day when I went to feed them, Otis looked terrible and would not eat. Again that evening, he did not eat. After looking just as bad the next morning and not eating, I took Otis and Layla to the doctor. A blood test revealed they both are positive for feline leukemia. Wow! What a blow!

At that point, the vet pretty much washed her hands of the situation and suggested I put them both “down.” Layla — aside from being a chubby girl — is the picture of health with very trusting and happy green eyes. She loves Otis, always doting on him. The vet explained all the problems of a FeLV+ cat with regards to being infectious to other cats including my own. But I have made the decision to build them their own house in their own yard and let them live as long as they can.

I was able to finally convince the vet to give me some antibiotics for Otis to see if they would help. The weekend was a roller coaster… Otis was hiding somewhere in the woods and only eating occasionally. By Sunday, I was pretty much sure it was time to put him to sleep though I desperately wanted him to know his new home before that happened. I have been building a fence and updating an old dog porch into a cat house for days and still not quite ready for them. I don’t know what to do but keep working towards our goal. I have been telling Layla about my plans and asking her to explain them to Otis.

Yesterday while I was working on their yard, the front yard dogs started barking at something. I looked up and standing there in the middle of the road was Otis — just looking at me. He was hungry and wanted an early dinner. I dropped what I was working on and got him his dinner and his antibiotics. I was so excited… and he looked so much better than he has in days.

Again this morning, he made an appearance to let me know he was ready to eat. And again, I stopped what I was doing to get him fed. He is looking and moving even a bit better than yesterday. And I am encouraged he will make it to see his new home.

It’s a little thing, but it is huge to me… and to Layla. I wonder if she knows.

You can see photos of Otis and Layla in the “the Kids” album in the photo gallery starting on page 4.

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I lost Charley this day to a tumor he developed in his mouth. Together we fought it since it appeared in September. Funny how disease opens your eyes to things you either did not notice or took for granted. Charley ran the house, and all the dogs respected whatever he said… even if he wanted a bone that was in another dog’s mouth or a bed someone had just made comfortable. If two dogs argued, Charley would break it up. If I chastised a dog for doing something, Charley would bully that dog as if to support me.

Charley was a large man. In the end, he was down to 94 pounds, but he was such a wise man. We had so many signals between us and so much communication that I did not even realize it. It was always just there.

Charley was 12.

Driving into the city one day 12 years ago, I noticed two puppies on the side of the road by the creek. That evening, they were still there. Same for the next morning and evening. I went back that second evening and asked them if they wanted to come to my house. And wiggly as puppies are, they jumped into my car. For four years, they lived on the back porch. When the weather was cold, I built them a house out of bales of hay. But one particularly cold winter, I brought them into the house and that was that. They were house dogs for life.

Charley walked out of the house that last day reluctantly. I think he knew he was leaving for the last time. I did everything I could to put off “letting go”, but I think when the day came, it was the right day and the right thing to do.

I love that boy… and I miss him.

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On September 15, Baxter was diagnosed with lymphoma. He is 3 1/2 years old… a baby with a very grown up disease. It’s been quite a ride to this point with all he has been through, but yesterday, he could not get himself up. It’s like his hind legs have become spaghetti. I tried to show him that I will carry him outside to go to the bathroom, or I will load him onto the little doggy cart and wheel him where he needs to go, or I will drag him across the room on a rug. But all these things are very strange and uncomfortable to him. Last night, it scared him and he dragged himself out the back door and into a doggy igloo where he spent the night. First night outside in a while. He finally dragged himself back out of the igloo this morning, but maybe because he peed on himself in the igloo. Or maybe the strain of dragging himself out of the igloo made him lose control.
His appetite is good. And he drinks water. But he has reached the end of all that he is and all that he will be.
I think this is the time I need to let go. I think I have to put him to sleep. Tomorrow will be no better than today but I cannot seem to make myself do this. This is one of those moments you wish someone would take over and drive the bus for you.
He whimpers sometimes. I’m sure he does not understand why he cannot stand or move as he wants. He starts to stumble as he struggles to get up, falls awkwardly and cries out in pain as his legs buckle awkwardly beneath him.

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I was thinking about bending over to pick something up the other day… I was getting ready to start collecting bowls to feed everyone. I walked to the first bowl and thought, “I hate bending over to pick that up.” In the next thought, I realized the ridiculousness of that thought because it was a necessary action. And I pondered it more. In the morning, I bend over at a minimum: 34 times to pick up dogs bowls, 34 times to put them back down with food in them and almost that many times to clean poop up in the yard. In the evening, the same routine. That’s about 200 times a day just for the dogs. What about when I drop something on the floor?

What’s all this mean? I may be getting old, but I must have a pretty tight butt from all the bending.

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I wanted to comment on the frustration of the incredible sameness, but my mind is in a warp right now where I am challenging even my own perception of the incredible sameness. What IS the incredible sameness of life? It is where each day follows the same pattern of the day before and the day before and the day before just as it will follow in the day after and the day after. It is a pattern that works when you live with a pack so they know what to expect. The sameness is occassionally punctuated by a rainstorm at meal time or the arrival of new people or my leaving to run an errand. But generally, their world is dictated by this sameness.

However, I, as a member of the human race, seem to rail against this sameness sometimes. I want to see the water circle the drain in the other direction. I want to NOT feed at the end of the afternoon. I want to NOT do everything just as I did yesterday. I want to sleep in, watch movies at 4:30 in the afternoon. Hell, I want THEM to do for me!

I think it’s hormonal. I think it’s mental, emotional, physical and financial. It’s moving forward, yet remaining in the same place. Each day the same… the incredible sameness.

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A friend just called to let me know that Bobbie passed away over the weekend. He, Mattie and Timmy got out of the yard, and with his nose glued to the ground, Bobbie took off heading down the road out into a busy street. Whatever he smelled apparently took him back and forth across the road. He did not have street smarts about traffic. By the time one of the boys got to the street, a car came down the road and Bobbie got hit.

He was quickly loaded into the truck, but died before they reached the vet’s office. His third birthday was just two weeks ago.

Bobbie had a great family - a man and a woman and their two sons. They adopted him and one of his cousins, Mattie, when they were 6 months old. Bobbie and Mattie had horses and cats and a boat and a truck. Bobbie loved to ride in the truck because it meant going to new places with new smells and a ride in a boat.

Suddenly it seems like Bobbie just left here a couple weeks ago. And that cat racing through the house right now knocking things off the counter doesn’t seem so much a pain in the ass.

Maybe Bobbie will stop by and look in on us. Maybe his brother Paulie will find him and the two can be companions again… running and playing like silly young boys in the yard. The yard is bigger now… they might not recognize it, but I will recognize them.

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By WHITNEY LITTLE
Eagle Staff Writer

Technically Gail Allen has no sons or daughters, but she has more than 100 children.

The woman behind The Cat’s Cradle, a no-kill animal rescue shelter outside Navasota, has been housing cats and kittens for nearly 10 years.

Allen shares her 125-acre home site outside Navasota with more than 100 cats … and 50 litter boxes. She said she spends five to six hours a day cleaning to keep the cats healthy and happy.

Her rescue work began after she found animals that had been dumped along the county road by her house.

“Once I had about nine cats, it dawned on me that it wasn’t going to stop,” Allen said.

The Cat’s Cradle is one of the area’s many no-kill shelters dedicated to finding homes for animals.

Recent statistics from the Humane Society of the United States indicate that more than half of the animals taken to shelters are euthanized, so owners say their no-kill shelters fill an important role. Most will take in dogs or cats, but some - like True Blue Animal Rescue (T-Bar) in Brenham - also rescue other animals.

Melanie DeAeth of T-Bar said she and her husband wanted to create a shelter for all types of animals, including horses. In 2006, T-Bar found homes for 30 horses as well as 84 dogs and 43 cats.

“[The increasing animal population] is such a huge problem,” DeAeth said. “Our goal is to eliminate that problem.”

Della Carroll, who shares that goal, said she was called to open God’s Little Creatures in a vision.

“God came to me and told me to take care of his little creatures,” she said. “So I started taking in dogs until I couldn’t take any more.”

God’s Little Creatures, like most local shelters, stays afloat through donations. Sometimes, however, many shelter owners must pay out of their own pockets to cover everything from utilities to cleaning supplies, collars, food and veterinary care.

Allen said the average life span of a no-kill facility is four to five years because of a lack of space. The Cat’s Cradle, however, has been around for nearly 10 years.

“I think God has a hand in it,” Allen said. “When something comes along like [Hurricane] Katrina, I go over my numbers. Right now I’m at capacity. But we find a way to make it work.”

Space issues

Carroll, who is currently housing between 20 and 30 dogs, said she always needs more room. “I have to turn down many people because of space,” she said. “I refuse to chain the dogs and put them outside. It’s just cruel.”

The Pet Adoption and Animal Welfare Society, PAAWS for short, which has rescued more than 130 animals since its inception in August 2005, is constantly at capacity.

“We are pretty much filled, and people are still calling us [to take in abandoned animals],” said board member Sherri Smith. “I hate having to turn them down. It’s hard to say ‘no’ to an animal.”

If one owner needs help - for instance, his or her shelter is at capacity but someone calls about a needy animal - another shelter often will offer assistance.

“We all try to help each other,” Carroll said. “The most important thing is helping that animal find a home.”

The process of locating new homes for animals varies by shelter. Most require an interview and home visit, and there is usually an adoption fee to cover shelter costs.

Once the animals are adopted, it’s a bittersweet ending for the shelter owners, who grow attached to the animals.

“We spend months working with them, loving them and showing them that they can trust humans again,” Allen said. “It’s a huge commitment that you make to [the animals]. You understand what they have gone through, and there’s nothing like the beauty of saving them from their suffering.”

And shelter owners know more than enough about the suffering. Each has a story to tell about the conditions in which they find some of the abandoned animals.

Smith said she has seen animal cruelty at its worst: kittens tied up in plastic bags, dogs with broken legs left beside a road, and animals who have died from starvation in their owners’ back yards. “When we started, we had the idea we could save them all,” she said, “but that just doesn’t work. It breaks my heart.

“I just get really furious when I see there’s not much done to these people [who abuse animals]. It’s just got to stop.”

Allen agrees, saying that despite The Cat’s Cradle’s success stories, “We also see the worst. That takes a huge toll on you.

“Once you are sensitized to their plight, you just notice them. I can look at a cat and tell if it’s in trouble. … You can feel their suffering. You can see the fear and abandonment in their eyes.

“These animals don’t deserve to be treated like that. No one does.”

Human contact

Smith said that, even though the animals have been through the worst, they are resilient. “Most of them would come out
of it with a little love and care,” she said, which is why every shelter constantly needs volunteers to spend time
socializing with the animals.

“I know there are people out there who care, but the question is whether they care enough to do something about it, to take the time to help these animals,” she said.

Those that have taken the time - the shelter owners and volunteers - find their efforts are rewarding, despite the
hardships.

“To me, these dogs are my kids,” Carroll said. “It’s a lot of hard work - really hard. I work for a living, then I come home and take care of the dogs. But as long as the Lord keeps me going, I’ll keep doing it.”

DeAeth shares the sentiment, and said that T-Bar will be around as long as needed. “It has to be done. No one else will do it. You can’t turn your back on these animals.”

To the shelter owners, the rescue work is not just a side project.

“I’ve started to love animals more than people,” Smith said. “Some people think those involved in the rescue business don’t care about people. … Well, of course I care about people. But the animals can’t speak for themselves. There is nothing out there for them, and they need help really badly.

“If people would only realize what these animals will do for you. It’s definitely unconditional love.”

• Whitney Little’s e-mail address is whitney.little@theeagle.com.

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