This is not about mom and Russ, rather this is a story about their cats and more specifically their cat Max.
I will start from the beginning, as I have found this is usually the best place to begin when one tells a story such as this one.
Mom and Russ have 2 cats. Rocky and Max.
When they go out of town Rocky and Max are fed by a neighbor, Brenna. Brenna feeds the cats in the garage, and the garage door is cracked open just enough for the kitties to crawl under so they can go outside. Inside the garage they have the nice attic space with warm beds for sleeping. It's a set-up that any cat would love.
A few weeks ago a new cat moved in, a Tom Cat who is orange in color, very similar to Max. Mom said this cat was friendly with her, well groomed, and preferred to sit on the door mat at the back door.
Just upon leaving for Baltimore all three cats were found to be in a sort of "stand off." A slight scuffle.
Russ wanted to trap the Tom Cat, mom disagreed, and so Russ left the cat alone.
Fast forward to Monday when Devin, the kids and I go to their house to check on the bees.
When we pulled up the drive an orange cat appeared out of the cracked garage door and took off running to the woods.
"Oh, my! That is the tom cat!" I said. We all watched as Dolly chased him into the woods.
We opened the garage doors so the little ones could play with toys that are stored in there, and this is when Journee comes to me and says,"Mom, Max looks hurt."
I went to the garage and sure enough, Max was sitting on the steps and he looked terrible. His fur was matted and his ears were scratched up, and he seemed sore when I picked him up.
"I bet that tom cat beat him up!" I exclaimed.
Disclosure* I am not always the "brightest" crayon in the box*
I called mom and Russ and told them about how poor Max had been in a cat fight and that Rocky was nowhere around and that I would take Max home and take him to the vet.
We wrapped him in a towel and took him home. The poor kitty slept the whole way home and after he got home I placed him on my bed and he continued to sleep several hours. That night he ate, and ate, and ate, and drank water and used the litter. I noted how strong the urine smell was and decided he had been dehydrated, causing concentrated urine. The next morning I told mom and Russ how well he was and that a vet visit was not needed, and that Max was living a life of luxury in my room and sleeping all day on my bed. He is such a sweet cat! All day the girls would come in and love on him, "Poor Max!" they would all say.
Devin went back to their house and set a trap to "catch" that Tom cat.
Again, Max ate and drank all night, and when I called him he would jump onto my bed and sleep on my legs.
This morning I get a call from mom. "Sam, Brenna just called and she went to feed the cats this morning and says that Rocky is in the trap and that Max is in the garage."
What????? (I am thinking to myself)
Mom continues," Could you email a picture of the cat you have at your house, I think it's the Tom Cat."
Could this be an imposter? Is this a case of identity theft?
I emailed a picture, but in the meantime came up with the brilliant idea of actually "checking" to see if this is a neutered cat (as Max is neutured) or a true tom cat.
Eee, eee,eeee,eee ,eee (Imagine the music from the movie Psycho)
Tom cat, you have the right to remain silent. You are being charged with identity theft, as all evidence proves you are NOT the neutured cat named Max. You are being punished with a rabies vaccine and a low cost neuter at the local vet office, whereby you will then be subject to a life of leisure here along with the kazillion of other animals I own. Please note that you will become an outdoor cat once your procedure has been completed.
I am grateful to have been the judge and jury, otherwise I might have been charged with aiding and embedding a criminal:-)
We drove to mom's and released Rocky, the tom cat issue is solved at their house, and my girls are excited to own another pet. They also named the guy.
His name is, Max.
Although his nickname is Crook Shank.
