Where do they come from?

The first room I clean out today belongs entirely to Waffle, a new girl full of energy and curiosity. She climbs up and down her cage, and up and down my leg.

Waffle climbing my leg

At one point she even surprises me by climbing on my shoulders. She's so small and energetic, and I'm curious as to how old she is, so I check her tag.

The tag on each cat's cage or room has a photo and a variety of useful information. It shows the name, age, gender, whether or not he or she is neutered or spayed, and the date, food information, roaming specifics, the date that they arrived and History: where they came from, or how they came to arrive.

Waffle and her tag

Waffle is at least 3 years old, even though she looks 10 months. The note next to History catches my eye. "Owner's missing." It's quite illegible, so there's a really really good chance that's not actually what it says, but now my imagination is going wild. What happened to them? If this were a mystery novel it would be one where the cat assists in solving the puzzle. It's not long at all before I find out that's it's not nearly so exciting. "Owner's moving" turns out to be the actual reason. How sad. Can you imagine, leaving your family cat behind if you move?

As I clean other cages I pay more attention to why other cats are here, or where they came from. "Animal Control" is the most common one. Sadey's owner died when she was ten. Alexia, a new girl, has "Dropped off at shelter" written next to her. I didn't think Feline Rescue accepted cats that owners just drop off. In fact, they write "Our mission does not enable us to accept owner surrendered animals." But of course, if one turns up at their doorstep, they're not going to just leave it there.

As I'm cleaning out the side room I hear the door open and the sound of someone walking to to one of the front cages.
"Excuse me, can I help you" asks the woman stationed in the front.
A man's gruff voice mutters something incomprehensible.
"Is that a cat in there?" asks the woman. "I'm sorry, you can't bring him in here. Are you trying to leave him?"
I stop my mopping to listen.
"It's all we can do," grunts the man.
"I'm sorry, but we don't accept cats that are just dropped off. You're going to have to leave."
"But what are we going to do with him? We don't have a car, we took the train here for free. For free."
"Bring him to Animal Control, we can't take him here."
The man stomps off, muttering that it doesn't say that anywhere on the website.
"Ooh, I hope he doesn't leave him in the parking lot," the woman wails.
Oh, I hope he leaves him here, I wish.

I'm mopping up the man's muddy boot tracks when I hear the woman swear. I look up. Someone else asks, "What's wrong?"

"He left the cat in the front."

Yes.

Through some confusion he gets named Wyatt (although I think he looks like a Henry) and is placed in the back room to get checked out by the medical staff. Before he can be assigned a cage or room, he needs to be checked out for sicknesses or any other potential problems.

I didn't want that cat going home with that man. What would the chances be that it would end up in Animal Control, or that the man would find it a good home on his own? By being left at Feline Rescue, at the very least he has a warm home.

Today I'll let the cats have the final word:

Junius hanging out in the supply room.

Taormina tolerates a few chin scratches. 

Ethan (part muppet) was desperate for cuddles.

Alexia being oh so cute. But don't be deceived- she doesn't actually want to be woken up just to have her belly rubbed.