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Well, the RSPCA are going to come to my house to interview me on Thursday and I have to do some prep for that – I am a bit nervous that I won't be found worthy of having a cat from them. Some of my Facebook friends tell me I'm being overly concerned, but I can't help it. I hate interviews of any kind.
I won't have time to prepare everything to be ready for the little catty arrival by Thursday, but it should be helpful – shouldn't it? – that I know what I have to do. This is largely thanks to the advice of my friends here and on Facebook, I know I wouldn't have thought of half of it without you!
My work friend who volunteers for the RSPCA has offered to lend me a cat carrier, and will have it there ready for me assuming I pass the inspection. I should be able to see the cats on offer at the weekend, I hope – it means going to some place in north(ish) London that begins with an H. (Possibly Holloway.) I trust I will remember where before I have to go there – I can always ring them and ask for directions, I suppose.
As for bringing my new friend home, I shall have to get a taxi. Unless they deliver – my friend seemed to think there was a good chance they might deliver. Which seems odd, but you never know.
I do know they did deliver years ago when my (ex) husband and I had a cat from a rescue place which may or may not have been the RSPCA.
That was one weird cat. We were told that it might be shy – might come out of its cat carrier slowly and take a slow look around and investigate the place.
Not so. When the cat arrived, my ex put the carrier down on the floor in the living room, opened the top…and didn't have time to stand back because the cat came out of its carrier as if the hounds of hell were after him and shot round the room like greased lightning. We just stood back and watched, amazed that this 'shy' cat was hitting the sound barrier. He did calm down after a while, but wow, that cat was fast!
We called him Hernu (Hernaux?) after a French politician then in the news who'd disgraced himself over some problem with a Greenpeace ship. (I don't remember the exact details after so long.) My ex said that the brains of our new cat just about matched this politician, a bit like calling a cat David Mellor.
I have very fond memories of Hernu. Not because he was a clever cat (on the contrary, he was rather dim – Hernu chased flies but the flies regularly outwitted him), not because he was a handsome cat (he was lean and rangy, scraggy and rather untidy, like Aragorn-as-Strider but with whiskers, a cat who had never quite tucked his shirt in and whose socks were always falling down), and not because he was an affectionate cat (he came to humans strictly on his own terms) but because he was our cat.
I won't have time to prepare everything to be ready for the little catty arrival by Thursday, but it should be helpful – shouldn't it? – that I know what I have to do. This is largely thanks to the advice of my friends here and on Facebook, I know I wouldn't have thought of half of it without you!
My work friend who volunteers for the RSPCA has offered to lend me a cat carrier, and will have it there ready for me assuming I pass the inspection. I should be able to see the cats on offer at the weekend, I hope – it means going to some place in north(ish) London that begins with an H. (Possibly Holloway.) I trust I will remember where before I have to go there – I can always ring them and ask for directions, I suppose.
As for bringing my new friend home, I shall have to get a taxi. Unless they deliver – my friend seemed to think there was a good chance they might deliver. Which seems odd, but you never know.
I do know they did deliver years ago when my (ex) husband and I had a cat from a rescue place which may or may not have been the RSPCA.
That was one weird cat. We were told that it might be shy – might come out of its cat carrier slowly and take a slow look around and investigate the place.
Not so. When the cat arrived, my ex put the carrier down on the floor in the living room, opened the top…and didn't have time to stand back because the cat came out of its carrier as if the hounds of hell were after him and shot round the room like greased lightning. We just stood back and watched, amazed that this 'shy' cat was hitting the sound barrier. He did calm down after a while, but wow, that cat was fast!
We called him Hernu (Hernaux?) after a French politician then in the news who'd disgraced himself over some problem with a Greenpeace ship. (I don't remember the exact details after so long.) My ex said that the brains of our new cat just about matched this politician, a bit like calling a cat David Mellor.
I have very fond memories of Hernu. Not because he was a clever cat (on the contrary, he was rather dim – Hernu chased flies but the flies regularly outwitted him), not because he was a handsome cat (he was lean and rangy, scraggy and rather untidy, like Aragorn-as-Strider but with whiskers, a cat who had never quite tucked his shirt in and whose socks were always falling down), and not because he was an affectionate cat (he came to humans strictly on his own terms) but because he was our cat.
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Sounds like you've got a good game plan in place, so I hope all goes well!
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Hernu was a good cat, and we loved him.
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We filled in a terrifying form for the Blue Cross, which made me feel they'd come and take away our own cat. In the event J got a reply in hours saying "come and see us" and when C and J went in, they found they could arrange a next day appointment to collect Bear.
I think the visit is just to be sure you're not planning on a cat fur coat.
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The other thing he was checking, he said, was that I wasn't a hoarder of some kind. Hoarders aren't allowed kitties from the RSPCA, it seems.