Two months ago, a friend messaged us about a curious brute pulled from a colony in Modesto. His ears said “Scottish fold” but closer inspection suggested scarring from back-alley scuffles over scraps and scamps. Street cred aside, Rocky was friendly sort with emoji eyes, and once neutered, vaccinated and proven FIV/FELV-, it seemed a waste to return this wannabe bodypillow to the street. Rocky’s only drawback? Food aggression. Touch his food bowl and BOOM! He’d swat the bowl causing a spray of kibble and water with a 6-foot blast radius.
After a few days of working Rocky’s kennel like they were diffusing a roadside bomb, the crew grew tired of picking Rachel Ray Nutrish from their hair and released the big guy to roam the facility with access to communal food. Free at last, Rocky has turned into first-rate office cat—no more food explosions, attentive but not annoying to the crew and highly photogenic. “On a positive note…OMG, this pic of Rocky!” And he digs Maddie.
Two days ago, we posted about a kitten recovering from rickets after spending her formative months hidden in a Chowchilla prison cell. Little Maddie is walking and chowing again, but now that she’s had a taste of “life outside”, she howls like she’s repping herself at a bail hearing whenever she’s back in her kennel. “What's your probable cause? LET ME OUT!!” It’s hard to focus with a kitten in airhorn mode so the crew lets her loose while working ISO just to shut her up. But she still needs supervision. Enter Rocky.
One sniff Maddie from the [cell]block and Rocky was smitten. He now looks forward to Maddie’s release as a chance to play Mr. Mom—provide comfort/defense, earnest, albeit soggy grooming and support for her ongoing recovery. It’s charming stuff and the best part of a group text thread filled with way too many “the shelter turned them away, too…” entries.
Every post should end on an upbeat note and for that we offer Brock. Two nights ago, the finder found this tiny waif stumbling around a south Fresno colony bleeding from his eyes and couldn’t bear to put him back where she found him. A look at the pic and our conscience concurred, and we told the finder to meet us at the vet first thing the following morning. One eye was “gone” but the other salvageable, and 12 hours later, our newest little pirate can see his future. Rocky, Maddie and Brock.
