What was I thinking?

After the adventure with Darryl yesterday,  the porch got cleaned off and hosed down.  The eau de zombie tom has been washed away.   Temporarily, anyway.

For a change, I stepped out this morning to feed the lady ferals (spayed ladies) and the scent of tom cat spray did not fill my nostrils.  Even better, I didn't have to stand guard over the ladies to make sure they got some of their food.  The ladies are afraid of the zombie toms and as soon as one comes around, they bolt from the feeding dishes until I chase the intruders away.  So this Darryl-free morning, it was as if a smelly weight had been removed from my shoulders.  And then it hit me.

What the hell was I thinking?  I just spent nearly half a grand and battled with animal control over an animal I didn't ask for, didn't want and didn't even like!  I've been chasing that s.o.b. away for years, so what the hell is wrong with me?  Even worse, I told animal control that Darryl could come back.  Maybe I  should have spent that money on a shrink.

I consciously selected these pictures of a turkey and bleeding hearts.  It wasn't a Freudian slip.  But I do love these strange plants which is why I took the pictures.  That being said, helping an injured being, human or animal, is instinctive for most of us.   And unfortunately, no good deed goes unpunished.

Nevertheless, rabies is a deadly disease and should be taken seriously.  One should be cautious around wild animals.  At least once or twice a year, rabid animal attacks make the news in this area.  Because of this, most of the regular ferals and all of my house cats are vaccinated for it.  I vaccinate my house cats, not from fear of rabies, but from fear of our hired public servants.  If something on your property is found to be rabid and your pets' vaccinations are not up to date, these people can and will confiscate and destroy your pets.

If I've caught and had a feral altered, I try to be responsible for it.  It's not always easy or feasible with the really wild ones.  And some of the cats that pass through to terrorize belong to neighbors.  These nasty cats often belong to nasty people.  I'm not going to start taking care of their animals, at least not in a benevolent way.  But it is hard to imagine the wild Mr. Darryl belonging to anybody.  He seems to think he owns this place and spends way too much time hanging around.  This is impressive because I spend as much time chasing him off.  But even if he thinks he owns the place, I don't consider him to be my cat.  I never dreamed of catching him for anything short of murdering him.  Vaccinating that creature was truly the last thing on my mind.  But I had witnessed him getting pommeled by other cats.  When he was injured, rabies never even occurred to me because tom cats don't need rabies to beat on each other.  Fighting is like breathing to most of those guys.  But what do I know?  Well, I know this.  Two and a half hours of vets and animal control officers yammering at me about rabies and 60 day quarantines inspired me to let the experts handle it.  And I hope those animal control folks enjoy the precious quarantine time they spend with the nasty Mr. Darryl because I'll enjoy the vacation.  And who knows?  Maybe one of these animal control people will bond with him and want to adopt him.  I suppose stranger things have happened.