Finally! And for a couple of reasons.
First, I’m back on the blog. No promises, but here I am today after a hectic six or so weeks since my last visit.
Second, maybe more important, the gentling Ginger gender mystery is resolved. No more gender guessing. No more Thomas or Thelma?
Thursday, we managed to coerce, force, drug her/him into a cat carrier and make the long overdue visit to the vet for a check-up, shots and the final answer. But no, at least, not at once. “Well?” I demanded. My vet friend looked chagrined. He couldn't tell either. Ginger wasn’t being gentle. He/she was not going into this examination routine without a bit of help from some anesthesia.
Second, maybe more important, the gentling Ginger gender mystery is resolved. No more gender guessing. No more Thomas or Thelma?
Thursday, we managed to coerce, force, drug her/him into a cat carrier and make the long overdue visit to the vet for a check-up, shots and the final answer. But no, at least, not at once. “Well?” I demanded. My vet friend looked chagrined. He couldn't tell either. Ginger wasn’t being gentle. He/she was not going into this examination routine without a bit of help from some anesthesia.
Later in the day, after some medical adventures of my own, I called the vet for the results.
Why was it so hard to determine? The vet’s best guess is that Ginger had been caught in a feral cat round-up, neutered, and set free. The ear notch is most likely a mark declaring “Don’t round me up again, you’ve had me once!”
Ginger isn’t completely gentled yet, but feral is no longer an appropirate description.
Why was it so hard to determine? The vet’s best guess is that Ginger had been caught in a feral cat round-up, neutered, and set free. The ear notch is most likely a mark declaring “Don’t round me up again, you’ve had me once!”
Ginger isn’t completely gentled yet, but feral is no longer an appropirate description.
Please welcome, finally. . .Thomas Jefferson Pando!
1 comment:
If TJ is anything like my much-loved orange tabby OJ (Orange Julius), he'll be a dear, once he decides he's yours (or you're his). OJ lived with me from 1981-1997, and I still miss him. I had to click on the photo to make it large and enjoy it--looks so much like OJ! Have you read May Sarton's The Fur Person?
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