Rescued: The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes

By Janiss Garza

What do a cozy mystery star, an award-winning blogger and a library supervisor have in common? They are all cats...once homeless cast-offs that were living on the streets or in the wild. Cats that people ignored, or worse, abused. But at some point, fate stepped in and changed the lives of these three cats and nine others. Rescued: The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes contains the true-life stories of these cats—but each one is told through the feline’s own point of view. Human authors might have made these stories too saccharine and sentimental, but when they are viewed through the cats’ own eyes, they become funny, tragic, earthy and inspiring. This collection was carefully compiled and edited by Janiss Garza, renowned author and columnist for CatChannel online.

• Language: English
• Publisher: FitCat Publishing
• Release date: Mar 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781941433010

Janiss Garza

Janiss Garza has alternated between writing and editing for over 25 years, first in the world of rock journalism and later on in the fields of vintage film, fitness and cats. She learned the craft of editing at Music Connection magazine, was senior editor for seven years at legendary hard rock magazine, RIP, and copy edited for bilingual style magazine Estylo. Her writing credits include the Los Angeles Times, L.A. Weekly, Entertainment Weekly, the Allmovie Guide, Yahoo Music, Cat Fancy, Catster.com, CatChannel.com and the award-winning blog, Sparklecat.com. Janiss is the co-author of White Line Fever with Lemmy Kilmis- ter, and ghostwriter for Sparkle the Designer Cat’s two books, Dear Sparkle: Advice From One Cat to Another and Dear Sparkle: Cat-to-Cat Advice From the World’s Foremost Feline Columnist.

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Table of Contents

Foreword

Tuffy: From Starving to Stardom

Lucky: A Survivor Kitty

Rascal: Twice Disrupted

The Many Moods of Magoo

Browser: The Story of a Library Cat

Then Came Michael

Crepes, Stuffed with Love

Rama: Sideways

Nerissa: My Story

Gemini: Rescued from the Rain

Ryker’s Rescue

Happy, Happy Harriet

The Authors Behind the Cats

About the Editor

Rescued

The Stories of 12 Cats, Through Their Eyes

Edited by Janiss Garza

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FitCat Publishing

Los Angeles

Copyright ©2015 FitCat Enterprises, Inc.

ISBN #978-1-941433-01-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of reprints in the context of reviews.

Cover photograph by Alana Grelyak.

Cover design by Debbie Glovatsky, www.glogirlydesign.com.

FitCat Publishing

P.O. Box 411461

Los Angeles, CA 90041

www.fitcatinc.com

Photo Credits

All photos have been supplied by and are the property of the authors with the following exceptions:

Kate Benjamin by Matty Steinkamp, Sundawg Media

Lucky framed, on his back and portrait: Cynthia Kirsch Photography, www.KirschPhoto.com

Harriet framed: Molly Condit

Alana Grelyak: Victoria Sprung Photography, LLC

Photo of Kate Benjamin

Foreword

There’s nothing quite like the bond we have with rescued cats. Each one is so special and has a unique story, as this wonderful collection demonstrates. By approaching these stories from the perspective of the cats, Rescued reveals the nuances of cat rescue that will make you revisit your own experiences in a new light.

The stories of rescued cats are often a mystery and sometimes filled with unthinkable pain and suffering. However, as Rescued reminds us, cats are incredibly resilient and forgiving. They truly have nine lives, and hopefully each one is filled with loving human companionship.

Sometimes rescuing an animal can seem like an insurmountable challenge — physically, emotionally, and financially — and others may ask, why bother? We bother because each one is so extraordinary and by saving just one, you are dramatically changing a life. As my favorite quote goes (which I have tattooed on my arm): Saving just one animal won’t change the world, but it surely will change the world for that one animal. We can’t personally save them all, but we can each do our part. Let these stories be your inspiration

Kate Benjamin

Founder of Hauspanther LLC & co-author of Catification: Designing a Happy and Stylish Home for Your Cat (and You!) with Jackson Galaxy

Tuffy, Maine Coon Rescued author

Tuffy: From Starving to Stardom

I’d staked out the house for nearly three weeks, since the first time I saw those two humans who arrived in clouds of cat fur. They have come back twice and walked all around the house. Once they saw my buddy Lion running through the driveway and pointed him out to the realtor. They apparently thought he was handsome, which was a good sign. The potential for food was getting better.

The house has been empty for a long time. The other owners weren’t that great, but sometimes us community cats could pilfer some dog food when the silly dogs weren’t paying attention. But these ladies, well, I had a feeling about them. If they moved in, they would be the ones with whom I would execute my grand plan to get a home. On my terms, of course. That part wasn’t a concern. They had that look about them — the crazy cat lover look. I perched on the big rock in the backyard, partially hidden by a holly bush. The people liked the holly bush; I’d heard them gushing about it. I wondered if they’d like me. I hadn’t shown myself yet. Lion had been caught off guard in the driveway when they showed up and he had to scramble back to his hiding place. He was slipping lately.

I commenced my morning grooming. It wouldn’t do to look like a simple street cat when I did make my appearance. I am a Maine coon with glorious fur. I just need some warmer shelter and better food to make my upkeep easier.

As I cleaned my paws under the shelter of the holly bush, I watched the humans. I had a plan.

* * *

So far, things are on schedule. The big trucks came last week and the two humans are here to stay. Since then, I’ve scoped out the situation. They’ve already left bowls of food out for Lion. They remembered him from the time they came to visit. I heard one of them say she hopes to see him again. That he’s so fluffy and she wants to hug him. Hug Lion! Ha. He would never have it. She’d have more luck hugging me. But still, it was a good sign. That, plus all the cats I’ve seen in the windows, boded well for my future.

I have to admit to feeling a bit jealous of those cats, although I’d never say it out loud. They’re living the life. I’ve seen the food they eat. Smelled it, actually. I even knocked over the trashcans one night to see if I could get any remnants. It’s not the cheap stuff, that’s for sure. This was high quality grub. The good news is, no Maine coons in the windows. This can be a good sign, or a bad sign. Either they just haven’t run across one of me before and would be thrilled to have me, or they don’t like my kind. I prefer to think the former. It’s highly likely they haven’t found a coon of my caliber yet. I’m pretty darn gorgeous, even living outside with knots in my luxurious fur.

I still haven’t let them see me, though. Me and Lion, we hit the porch every night and eat the food. The humans are tricky — they have one of those lights that switch on whenever we step somewhere. Sometimes they don’t notice, but once we heard them come near the door so we took off. I don’t think they got a good look at me. Which is fine. It’s part of my plan.

I’ve been playing hard to get. It’s not wise to put all your cards on the table — I learned that early on in this wild kingdom. Sometimes people you think are going to be friendly are not. So even though these two look good, I have to observe a bit more. If all goes well, I’ll start making strategic appearances.

* * *

Progress! Another week and I let them see me, sitting on the rock out front. Lion was nearby, so I think they’re starting to catch on that we’re friends. That’s good — let them think I’m a little feral. If they really like cats like us, it makes them even happier when they believe they’ve tamed a feral. Which, of course, is a myth. Lion is a true feral and he’ll never be tamed. Me, on the other hand, I’m a reformed house cat. My old owners tossed me out when they moved a few years back. I was pretty bitter for a while, but I’m over it. This isn’t a bad life out here. I met Lion and a few other friends. Lion’s my wingman, though. The others, I don’t completely trust them. They’d never save me food the way Lion does. They’re only out for themselves.

Anyway, I think living outside is pretty cool. I get to run through the fields and climb trees and play in the leaves. On the down side, there are some not-very-nice animals around too. We’re smart enough to stay away from them, and it helps to have two of us on the lookout. But aside from that, we get to run and explore and see new places. It would be nice to have a house to go into when it’s raining or snowing or really cold, but I wouldn’t want to be trapped inside again. Besides, Lion would never come in. And like I said, he’s my wingman. We look out for each other.

* * *

Food has been kind of scarce around here. I wouldn’t admit this out loud either, but I’ve been a little lazy these days. Having to chase and capture my food is holding less and less appeal. I’ve been sticking close to the houses, but really there are only two offering up food. There’s one across the street, but I’ve seen the way people drive around here so I limit crossings to very special — or necessary — occasions. And of course the two new humans. They have, by far, the best food choices.

Anyway, last night I was so hungry I ventured into the garage when one of them was out there and let her give me a bowl of food. I pretended I didn’t want her to pet me yet, though. That’ll just make her want to pet me more. And it was true. She cooed and talked and ran back inside to get more food after I ate the first can. I wanted to save it for Lion but I figured she would put more out for him. I just had to get his attention before the possum got it. The new possum family has been eating a lot of our food.

But man, was this good! This was real food. I could get used to this. As I ate, I kept one eye on this lady. She was getting too close to the garage door for my liking. I got the feeling she wanted to shut me in here, and that was not okay. This called for some quick thinking.

Even though I really wanted my food, I bolted outside. As expected, she got very upset and called me back. She’s given me a name, apparently. Tuffy. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but it was nice to be called something other than Hey, cat! For the purposes of this experiment, it was fine. I paused, one foot on the pavement, the other three still in the garage. This would be a telling moment. If she ignored my request, that could be problematic. That would mean they were looking to control me. Slam the door on my freedom. Restrain my free spirit. I didn’t want that — but I wanted the food. Come on, bring the bowl over!

After a few interminable seconds, she gave in. I had to restrain my smile. Humans who love cats are so predictable. She brought the bowl to me, setting it half in and half outside the door. Petted my head and walked away.

I finished my food, keeping my glee well concealed. She adored me already. I could see from the way she looked at me. Could hear it in her voice. She’s putty in my hands. I’ve found my home.

* * *

We continued this way for another week or so. I took to eating in the veranda — the screened-in porch — around the same time every night. A couple of nights the possum joined me, which they found amusing. That called for a photo session.

They always brought food out to the rock for Lion, too, just in case he didn’t want to come onto the porch. We were in a good routine. Lion and I knew when mealtimes were, and we made sure we showed up. Early, sometimes, in case the possums had the same idea. The possums were okay, though. They made a mess of the water, but usually they left us something. The raccoons were another story. But all things considered, life was good.

Then, just like that, it all changed.

On this particular day — late spring, trees in full bloom, the hint of a warm summer in the air — I was doing my usual lounging under the holly bush. I’d had a nice, big breakfast, as had Lion, and was feeling content. He was off in the fields taking his daily run. Lion loved to keep in shape. Me, I was less worried about my physique. Aside from my occasional tree-climbing expeditions when a squirrel or chipmunk led the way, I didn’t participate in a lot of extreme sports anymore.

Anyway, I was sitting under my bush, minding my own business, when I felt a set of eyes on me. I froze, my paw in mid-lick. Something was out in front of my hiding spot. Close enough that I could feel its breath, the heat of its gaze.

Then, a growl. The kind that only comes from a really big dog. And this one’s energy was not friendly.

I was in trouble.

My survival instincts kicked in. I bolted out the other side of the holly bush and vaulted, without any hesitation, over the low fence. And ran. For a cat who hadn’t been doing much training lately, all of my skills returned. I was fast.

Unfortunately, so was my pursuer — and the beast had found the opening in the fence and was hot on my tail. I didn’t even risk a glance behind me to see what it was. Not worth it. I had to find a place where it couldn’t get me. I hadn’t been able to get to my tree in the humans’ yard, or I would’ve hid there. Now I had to find new high ground.

But I’d been forced to run into the yard next door to my adopted humans, where there weren’t any good trees — none that I could climb, anyway. I had to head to the street and throw the beast off. Then I could circle back and return to my safe yard through a tunnel of bushes on the other side. Easier said than done when this beast had way longer legs and a better stride than me. I had done a good sprint out of the gate, but my recent idleness was catching up with me. I was slowing down. And that meant big problems.

I had one other option. The neighbor across the street, who was also nice to the community cats, had a shed with an open window. The beastly dog wouldn’t be able to reach that, but I could take a nice flying leap and get inside to safety. I changed course, banged a left and ran down the hill.

As I bolted into the street, I heard the noise before I even registered the sight of the vehicle bearing down on me. My usual sixth sense about cars and trucks had been overpowered by the menacing animal chasing me. The car wasn’t overly large, nor was it going overly fast, but it was so close there was no way it could avoid me.

I couldn’t turn back, so I sprinted ahead with all I had left. I didn’t register the jarring pain in my backside until I was across the street and couldn’t quite make the jump into the shed window. Dazed and confused, I wasn’t even sure if my beastly pursuer had followed. To be safe, I ran for the parked car in the driveway and wedged myself up and out of sight. Hopefully no one would come out and start the car, adding to my already precarious situation.

* * *

I stayed under the car for a long time. My whole back end hurt. A lot. It hurt so much I didn’t even want to go find food. I knew I couldn’t stay there forever — the neighbors would want to use their car