Yesterday, a fellow rescuer Crystal went back out to the hell hole shelter and rescued a little black 6 month old kitten. Through no fault of the shelter, his collar had grown into his neck so badly that his neck had been bleeding. She also mentioned another black cat that had just come into the shelter and sent the following email:
"I went out to
While out at the kennell, (the staff member)
Nothing really surprises me anymore about people's behaviour. But can you imagine not wanting him after a year being gone??
The good news is, we ARE rescuing the black cat mentioned in the email tomorrow. I'm calling him "Survivorman". I can't think of a better name for that guy. :)
In the meantime, I've been lost in "Cats to Move" list, and have also volunteered to be the rescue's official "Post-Adoption Complaint Department." Both have kept me so busy and buried behind the computer and my telephone. There have been so many cats that need to be moved into new foster homes (for one reason or another), it's prevented me from rescuing others. *sigh* I miss getting my hands into the meat of rescue, but what I'm doing is equally important and helps keep the rescue running.
Right now, "Survivorman" and I have something in common. We both are surviving - at least I'm not sitting in my own urine tonight. But then again, anything can happen. :)