rescuer of small cats and mongooses

On the way to work on Saturday, I spotted some kittens on an empty stretch of road (one of those rural spots where people dump garbage/furniture/bodies and set fire to abandoned cars) and pulled over to help them. They did not seem interested in rescue, so after wading around in the thick bushes for a bit, I continued on to work.

Driving home in the afternoon, I kept a lookout for them and was sad to see a dead cat wearing a collar, but no sign of the kittens. I hoped the kittens had already been rescued while I had been at work.

They had not. The kittens were eating their dead mother when I drove by on Monday. I pulled over with food and water, and they scarfed it up, but I couldn't get my hands on them. Reinforcements were necessary, so I dropped a pin to the Humane Society, and they sent a very nice officer out to chase the kittens around with a net on a stick. She failed. The next morning she tried again, with bigger nets and humane traps, and failed again. Frustrated, she called to ask if I could drive down to Honolulu and pick up a heavy-duty trap and have a go at it, which I did.

And that is why I spent yesterday evening hanging out on the side of the road for 3 hours with a dead cat, hoping not to get hit by a truck or murdered by a maniac. 

 

I managed to catch one kitten and one very angry mongoose. The mongoose did not want to pose for pictures, so I just let it out and jumped back before it could eat my face. I counted three more kittens creeping out for food, but the trap wasn't sensitive enough for their tiny bodies and failed to deploy. I gave up when it was too dark to see.

This morning, Mike greased the trap and we caught two more. There is still one skinny baby left to catch, but he managed to eat enough food that he wasn't interested in taking another chance on the trap, so we'll try again in a few hours. The three little rescued kittens are snoozing in a carrier together until they're ready for delivery to the Humane Society. They're a bit traumatized, but they let me hold them and pet them, so there is good hope for adoption.

Now I smell death on everything; catching whiffs of it in food, on the breeze, on my well-scrubbed hands. And I'm angry at people who dump their pets, and throw away kittens, when surrendering them to a shelter is free. That poor little house cat did not deserve to die on the side of a rural farm road. 

I would change careers and become an animal rescue agent, except that I would immediately be in trouble for punching animal abusers in their fucking faces.

But let's be glad for the babies who lived. I hope they have long lives filled with soft laps and sunny windowsills.

Update: caught the last kitten! He’s the smallest, skinniest, and hissiest. Feeling satisfied that everyone is accounted for.