Meeka was rescued from the roof. Not on top of the roof. She was literally in the roof.
Back in June of 2013, my neighbors and I all started to hear meowing, but we couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. We all assumed one of our neighbors had gotten a kitten! Finally our landlord realized a cat must have gotten into the attic space when repairs were done on the roof two weeks earlier. One of the units had attic access; they opened it up, and out ran Kitty
But, I'm a dog person.
As a dog owner, my instinct was to rush her to the emergency room. She needed to be examined! She needed fluids! She needed to be scanned for microchip! COME ON, FOLKS! My neighbors looked at me like I was nuts. “She’s a cat, Cathy. Put out some water, and she’ll be fine. She’ll go back where she came from.”
That didn’t sit well with me. Kitty was so friendly... and skinny. I was worried about her and about any people that may be missing her.
The next night, I was sitting out by the curb waiting for a friend to pick me up. Kitty came and sat with me. When my friend picked me up, Kitty tried to get in the car with me. She was so sweet, I could hardly stand it. I told her, “if you’re here when I get home, I’m taking you to get scanned.”
I got home at 10pm, and she was there.
I don’t know why I felt I must go right then, but I scooped her up and took her to a 24/7 vet by my house. It wasn’t an emergency— I know. I think I just felt guilty that I hadn’t done it already— that I had allowed others to talk me out of my instinctual animal care-taking.
So there we were, at the vet, at 10pm.
“Poor angel kitty....”
“Must be kept indoors to recover... can you hold onto her until the shelter opens tomorrow...?”
“You did the right thing bringing her in!”
But, I'm a dog person. Cat Foster Parent.
As a dog owner with no cat experience, I didn’t know what to do. They gave me a litter tray and some food to get me to the next day, presumably because I was going to take her to the shelter.
I took her home and put her in a bedroom separate from my pittie, Bella. The next morning, I went in to check on her. Kitty had groomed herself, eaten the kibble I left out for her, and drunk some water. She also purred, meowed, and flopped around on the floor asking for belly rubs.
So, maybe I would let her hang at the house for a bit, and just notify the shelter? I called the shelter to provide her description for anyone that might be looking for her.
In the meanwhile, Bella and I got to know Kitty, and quickly fell in love. I took her back to the vet for a real exam, as the first visit was just a microchip check. This time we got all her info, and I prepared myself for cat fostering.
Cats are Weird
The more I got to know Kitty, the more I thought to myself, cats are… weird. I emailed my friend Erin, “Why does she scratch? Can she not scratch on my chairs and ottoman? Does she like the way it feels? She has a scratcher. She likes it, but maybe wants to keep her options?”
Also “Litter box: disgusting. It smells. I didn't have enough litter in there and apparently when it "clumps" it cakes onto the bottom of the box? How much litter is supposed to be in there? Do you clean it everyday? Do you scoop into a poop bag? Where do you put the scooper when it isn't scooping? It's obviously dirty.”
Yeah. I had a lot to learn.
From Above to Below...
I couldn’t keep calling her Kitty; I named her Meeka. My friend Abby gave her the middle name Tortellina. She later became Meeka Fida Bruta Tortellina.
Needless to say, no one ever came looking for her at the shelter, and I figured out the whole “cat” thing. I’ve even fostered multiple litters of kittens.
Meeka went from in the roof to under it, and part of our little menagerie.
Sisters: Meeka and Bella