This is M.C. M.C. stands for Mangy Cat. It could also refer to mean cat, malnutritioned creature, or possibly more appropriate, master of comedic chaos.
This kitten was discovered under our vehicle on Tuesday morning. Gabe yelled down to the office, "Mom! There's a cat under the Suv." It's not unusual for there to be stray cats lurking and tormenting our sweet Chloe, so my response was to instruct him to chase it off with the broom. "No, Mom. It's a kitten! It's little. Come see", so I left my work to check it out. Sure enough, it was a kitten and it appeared to be in pitiful shape. And mean. I tried to reach it and it hissed at me and moved away. Again I tried and again it hissed. Gabe fixed it a small bowl of food and we left it alone.
Throughout the day we checked for the kitten. It was still here and still wanted nothing to do with any of us. It ventured from beneath the car but as soon as approached it would hiss and run. It ran from beneath one car to another and back again. We spent some time in the evening just sitting near by. Not posing a threat, hoping this poor thing would come to us. I certainly have no desire for another cat, but this tiny creature was in need of help. It was digging and scratching at its long white fur, its face was a mess with mucus and its eyes were so matted it could barely keep them open.
Wednesday morning brought another full day of hiss and run. Not posing a threat did little good, so again on went the chase. I would not be surprised if neighbors popped some corn and pulled up a chair to the windows for a good laugh at our failed antics. Despite my general dislike for cats, this was a baby in need of medical help so we increased our pursuit. I dubbed it MC and it in turn became a bit more confident. It spent more time out on our porch, and began darting up the tree or under a bush, as well as the two cars. We tossed things up at it in the tree, hoping we could scare it down or knock it off and catch it. I thought it might deem us as much of a threat as whatever chased it our way but it still refused to venture beyond our home. This mangy cat seemed to have claim sanctuary in our yard. It was in need of refuge and was claiming it at our house. UGH.
Thursday came and there was more hiss and run, but never beyond our yard. The kitten was looking a bit better, it could hold it's eyes open wider but they still had a nasty glaze over them. Growing more annoyed and not willing to be outsmarted by this mean cat, we borrowed a critter trap from the city. We set it up on the porch beneath our two chairs, slid in a bowl of food, water and left for the evening. We crossed our fingers hoping we wouldn't find our own cat stuck in the wire cage upon our return. We came home to find success. Mangy Cat had been caught! HA!
Friday afternoon we slid the trap in front of a very large dog crate (all we had) and gently prodded Mean Cat into it, tipped it a bit and latched the door. HA! It took all four of us over three days, but we finally did it. I drove the dirt roads into Derby to the vet office with the kids and the tiny hissing kitten in the big dog traveler.
They guessed MC's age at about six weeks. The doctor was the first one to actually touch it. No actual mange, but this kitten had a upper respiratory infection, loads of fleas, probably a herpes virus in its eyes, ear mites and maybe leukemia or AIDs. The herpes virus was very contagious so we would need to keep it completely away from our cat. (Too late for that, there had already had a few close hiss fights over the last few days.) Super. What on earth have we gotten ourselves into now? Before going to any further trouble on the pathetic stray, the doctor wanted to do the test for leukemia/AIDs which would take about an hour.
We left for a happy hour trip to Sonic and a visit with Grandpa. I reminded him about B.C., the black cat my sister discovered and on which my mother, also not a fan of cats, took pity. B.C. was a bag of bones with scabs on its feet. It healed at our home, then left, never to be seen again. I was hoping for the same kind of luck with M.C. Soon the Vet called and the tests were negative so I could come get M.C. I will admit that after the laundry list of things wrong with the kitten, I was hopeful to be freed from obligation by bad test results, so I cursed my luck once I hung up, and my father laughed. Quite a bit, actually.
I headed back to the vet's office alone. Laughing much of the way. God is funny. This pathetic creature of His was now in our care, of all people. I laughed as I paid the $146 invoice (it was the only acceptable response), laughed in more disbelief as the young lady showed me the medicines the doctor would soon be going over. I chuckled as I asked do we even know yet if it's a boy or a girl? She went back to check. It's a boy.
The doctor soon called me back. He showed me how to apply the ear drops (once a day), the eye ointment (3 times a day!), explained that the amoxicillan drops (2x a day) must be refridgerated, and the powder could be mixed with food (2x a day). And I laughed. The good news, the kitten was no longer mean and terrified. He was very cooperative for them through all that they put him through. And he needs to be back in three weeks for a check up and kitten shots. Awesome.
So far, Mangy Cat has also been tolerable of us. Fingers crossed, we'll get him healthy and adopted by someone not living here. He's been cuddled and we've been administering medicine and ointment without any hissing. Although I'm tempted.
Meet my personal trainer, Britney! This is her happy face after our loop around Mayberry.