Smokey gets in your van?

So, about a year ago, maybe even more than a year ago, they told us that we needed to start cleaning out our offices, throwing away our crap and getting ready to move because this time was for real. Yes, it was a year ago because then as now, I am about to go on vacation and last year I left for vacation relieved that they had moved our move again, now it was supposed to be in September . And then it was October and then November and then “Well, it was supposed to be December but what with the holidays...” and then it was supposed to be January but it rained and the basement flooded and then it was middle of the March and then it was definitely April and then the first week of May and it ended up being the last week of June.

But anyway. All that time we talked about our feral cat and what we should do about Smokey. Smokey this, Smokey that. It was all about Smokey.

Everyone was all concerned about Smokey but oddly, no one was volunteering to buy him food or maybe take a turn at feeding him every morning not to mention making sure he had fresh water - not my job, by the way. I’m food.

Smokey’s fan club was more into giving him kitty treats and polluting his food dish with wet food. Do you know what becomes of wet food when it’s left outside in the heat? Fortunately for us, all gawds creatures love congealed cat food. I don’t think Smokey ever ate it but the raccoon population loved it - so much so that they sent us a little emissary - who then had to be removed. But not by them, because ewwww, Rocky was all furry and nasty and had sharp teeth and was probably rabid Whatever. Because if you stood in the parking lot and hollered “Furry, nasty with sharp teeth and probably rabid”, Smokey would have assumed you were talking about him. Because you were. Yeah, Smokey is adorable until you read his CV and it’s all about the fact he’s been wild for so long he’s actually more like a raccoon then the raccoons. In real life, Rocky was just more honest in his wildness. We trapped Rocky and sent him to live in the country. Smokey is just a raccoon in a cat suit, but tell the people at work that and you’ll make them cry.

Okay. So times moves on. We move on. “We” are now going over to the old building and feeding and watering Smokey. “We” don’t love this.

Finally, Smokey’s Fan Club notices that he is not with us.

A plan is hatched.

I am dragged out of my office by Old Boss because one of Smokey’s Fan Club has noted that he is at the other building ( where he has lived for 10 years) I saw him at a quarter to seven, but I didn’t see it as an emergency worthy of pulling people away from their desks. I saw it as “Tuesday”, much the same as “Monday” and “Friday”.

SFC had a crate and they wanted Smokey in it. Have you ever forced your house cat to do anything. Have you ever tried to force a feral cat into a crate? Yeah. It worked great and it only took the combined efforts of five of us to not get it done. Well, the next morning it took only one RN (and a handful of cat snacks) to get it done. And grudgingly, my respect for the fan club grew, moderatly. To think I had just been feeding him all this time,while they had been useing the time to get him enslaved to cat snacks. Brilliant!

Now we had a feral cat in a box. A surprisingly docile, co-operative, unfreaked out feral cat in a box. And we decided he should have his shots. Now we, or because I volunteered, I, had to take him to get his shots. The kind lady who has been the other person who actually bothered to really take care of him also kindly, really takes care of many, many other homeless animals through the SPCA and she hooked Smokey up with his shots. For $5!

Smokey was even co-operative in the car. And at the vets and driving back from the vets and when I stopped and got lunch on the way back to work.

And then, we had to let him go. It was hot and the novelty of seeing him close up was wearing off. I gathered the troops to see him off and got beaten to the punch by one of his fan club. Passive aggressive cow. Anyway. I saw him saunter his freshly street legal little self away, not bolt, he didn’t bolt! And I was afraid I wasn’t going to see him again.

And today, he came back! Yay! He knows where his food lives or really, where his cat snacks are. It doesn't matter! He's home. I felt all warm inside.