Thor
So the County cleaned him up, neutered him, then put him up for adoption. The Veterinarian commented, “Sweet cat. Robust.” He is 15 lbs of muscle and orange fur. Strong and handsome with pale green eyes, the Shelter gave him a new name, “Thor.” A month went by and no one adopted him, so they made him Cat of the Week and put his picture in the newspaper so I got him free. Even better, they threw in a bag of cat food and a bag of litter.
Turns out, he would have been free to me even if I had adopted him last week, because he is older than 6 and I am older than 55, so “Silver Paws” picks up those adoption fees.
Good thing I got to the shelter when I did. I was filling in the paperwork when another woman arrived and asked for him by name. When they told her the situation, she glanced over at me and muttered, “I hope you have a yard.” And I do. Quite defensible for a big, strong cat. And a creek full of interesting things.
I will miss the birds, though. I have found that I can have a backyard full of birds or I can have a cat. But I can’t have both.
UPDATE [June 12] Well, I guess I will have birds. I returned “Thor” to the Pound yesterday, the last day of my Two Week Free Trial.
“He’s not a ‘Thor,'” I said. “He’s no good in bed, and he’s no good on the battlefield. He is not the robust, outdoor, take-all-comers cat as advertised. He was out one night and seriously lost the fight.”
Thor’s eye was bitten and he lost the fight
As an outdoor cat, he sucks. Creamsicle was an outdoor cat with no claws. Claude was an outdoor cat, and small. They both came to me while living outside. They both fought for territory, and lost, but I never had to take either to the vet for bite wounds.
As an indoor cat, he sucks. He won’t sleep at night. In bed, he kneads incessantly, usually on the softest, most sensitive human part he can find. If he finally curls up and starts to nap, and I drop off to sleep, he suddenly YELPS and thrashes to a different position. Then I drop off to sleep and YELP again. This goes on through the night until it is elimination time and he does every noisy thing he can think of to get me to let him outside.
Then he fills my bathroom and bedroom with the redolent smell of digested cat food. Usually at daybreak. I can’t really get back to sleep after that.
I had the vet test him for intestinal parasites and giardia thinking that maybe his guts were hurting, but he was clean.
We don’t have a scratching post because we thought he was going to be an outdoor cat so he is shredding my crappy furniture.
I will keep applying warm compresses to his wound to facilitate its healing, and brushing him every day, but I can’t face 5 years of litter box cleaning and cleaning fur off my clothes. He’s going back to the Pound in three days when he looks better. Maybe he will find a home where he fits better if I give him a new name and re-write the ad. I gave the Pound this copy.
Mr. Marmalade
He’s a lover, not a fighter and he is sweet as marmalade. Sixteen pounds of muscle and fur, this 10 year old was a tomcat when he came to us. Beautiful long hair orange tabby with mesmerizing sea green eyes, this handsome boy loves to snuggle all night.
He is a very healthy cat. He’s just nocturnal.
The vet said it was unlikely he had lived on the street for 10 years. He had no scars, no feline HIV, no leukemia. I noticed that he did not jump up on sinks or kitchen counters. This was someone’s pet.
I think he would be a great pet for someone who is a Night Owl. Someone with a terrace and some way for him to prowl a small territory. He really does like to go outside, and on the his last day with me I saw that he was indeed negotiating his turf in the neighborhood.
Maybe he would have settled down if I gave him more time. I hope the new ad helps him finds the right place. The Pound says that they find homes for adoptable animals.
Last night I auditioned for the Sonoma County 
Saturday, May 3 was the Drought Edition of the Great Russian River Race. We drove to Healdsburg and took a bus to private property five miles upriver. We parked our boat next to the Flamingo Team. Other contenders were Marmot Activewear, Murphy-Goode Winery and Camelbak. Categories were ment’s singles, women’s singles, women’s doubles, men’s doubles and mixed doubles.
I was right. The Kevlar boat was on the shore and dry when we arrived. A frustrated and upset-looking Coast Guard guy came over, saw the water in our boat and asked to do a Safety Check of our boat. “The race is over,” I commented. “Checking it now would be a sequencing error,” but Howard said explained that the water was from when we went over… the boat didn’t leak. The Coast Guard guy was in a snit because the Race leaders blocked him from playing Safety Nazi beforehand… the race start was on private property. Howard signed the Safety Report and got a “if found please return” label for the boat. We dragged our heavy tandem boat up a steep hill with the help of a kind teenager.
Cam pointed out that Scoma’s has a fleet of fishing boats that go out to sea every day and that you really can get fresh local seafood at their Fisherman’s Wharf restaurant. We went around the Cannery and Ghiradelli Square, and spent some time zooming around a pier near the Dolphin Club. When the tour was over, we walked half a block back to Ghiradelli for some great ice cream. We also checked out the Spy Shop on the wharf — the place to go for your own lock pick set.
The venerable, 85 year old Senior Peer Counselor put it best, “These people are a gift.” I learned so much from the unmarried couple in their 70’s with whom I stayed in Oakmont for the past eight months.