Kennedy

In an earlier post, I promised to talk about Kennedy. Hold on a sec, I need to take a deep breath! Haha. This boy was, and still is, a handful. He was one tough kitty to get acclimated to his new surroundings. How did he find his way to our house? The story still gives me the goosebumps.

“I have to bring Kennedy back to the shelter. I can’t keep him.”

-Previous “furever” mom of Kennedy

Before that fateful day I found that baby calico, I was pet sitting for Joyce (The Boy’s Foster Mom). We were going over the medicines for the new litter she was fostering. On occasion, when a litter of kittens is placed in a foster home, they develop or have upper respiratory disease. Some had junky eyes, some had the “sneezes”. The whole litter was being given medicine in one sort of way or another. Some needed eye medicine as well. For one kitten, it may have been the left eye, for other’s the right eye, and some not at all. Some needed Clavamox, a medicine frequently given to animals with upper respiratory disease.

“What am I looking at?”

As Joyce and I were going through the “routine”, her phone beeped. She received a new text. As she was reading it, her eyes got big, her mouth started to drop, and she appeared utterly dumbfounded. She could not believe what she was reading. She couldn’t even comprehend it. Kennedy’s now previous owner had sent her a text that she had to bring Kennedy back to the shelter. She had him for a year already. Kennedy’s adopter was getting a divorce and moving to California. She couldn’t bring Kennedy with her. She had two other cats as well.

What Were The Chances?

The Universe put events in motion to ensure that while I just happened to be at Joyce’s house, she would just so happen to get a text that a cat from the litter my two boys came from now needed a new home. Seriously? Joyce was in disbelief. Heck, I was in disbelief. My gut response said, “Well, there’s always room for one more!” At the time, I think we had five or six cats already. Knowing my spouse as well as I do, I sent a text that said, ” Joyce just got a text that Kennedy is being returned to the shelter.” The response was, “Tell her we will take him. Cats aren’t shoes you just return.”

A Difficult Transition

In order to be politically correct, I’ll just say that Kennedy had developed some “troublesome” personality traits. To say he was difficult, is an understatement. Typically, I am not afraid of cats, even if they are unpredictable. Kennedy was in a whole other ballpark. He was downright violent. When we first got him, he would literally corner me in his room. We had set up the spare bedroom for him while he transitioned. He would attack my legs, and even try to get to my face even though I was standing up.

Joyce suggested we try some air freshener in there. For the most part, it worked! Introducing him to our “crew” was a daunting task. We were patient, and it took a good couple of months. Kennedy had calmed down a bit, but he was still an angry cat. We put him on some amitriptyline for a little while, and when Kennedy seemed to be a tolerable “baseline” level, we slowly weaned him off it.

The “New” Kennedy

Kennedy had turned a corner, and now he was reunited with his littermates and the rest of our crew. He isn’t an angel, but he is my boy. He has numerous triggers which pushes him over his threshold, and usually will require a “time-out” in his room:

• Loud Music
• Bringing in the groceries
• Moving around too much (he’ll smack your legs)
• Not being able to suckle (yes, you read that correctly)
• When he’s hungry (who doesn’t get a little “hangry”?)

Like I said, he’s my boy now, and as Joyce would say — he owns me!!!