It’s a hard knock life.

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This is GG, she is the latest addition to our domestic zoo.  I know you are thinking, oh God, not a story about how much this lunatic loves her cat, but I think you will find her story inspirational, or at least be glad this happened to her and not you.

GG’s story is a classic rags to riches, fish out of water irony rich tale.  GG was a “hood cat” living on the mean streets in a seedy part of town.  My husband’s fire station was in this neighborhood and GG (then going under the handle, Princess) found her way to their door begging for food and attention.

She was small, skinny and pathetic but exceedingly friendly.  My husband, being the big softy that he is, took pity on her and gave her food and water so she stayed.   I serve on the board of a low-cost spay neuter clinic, so he decided to get her spayed, because we are responsible people and that’s what we do.

This is the point in the story where my daughter, Lil’ Mayhem gets involved. They go to the station, package up Princess and take her to the clinic.  We thought she was a kitten, turns out she is 4 years old, has had several litters of kittens, survived broken ribs and is full of worms.  In short, she’s the total package.

Because our intent was to take her back to the ‘hood, they took the tip of her ear off, this is how they mark wild cats as spayed.  But, since they took her in on a Friday they made my husband promise to keep her in overnight before he released her in order to let her get her faculties back in order.   This is where I enter the story.

I get home from work to find this pathetic creature in my garage.  She was a mess scrawny, bloody ear, drunk as a sailor on shore leave.  But even in her stupor she found the quiet dignity to use the tiny litter box in her pen.  I could totally relate.

Of course, I could not allow this cat to go back to the ‘hood, she had clearly used up at least 6 of her alloted lives so I and Lil’ double team the husband and convince him to let her stay and be our outside cat.  He reluctantly agrees, silently hoping she runs away as soon as we open the garage door.  His only request is that the name has to change, so we rename her GG which stands for Ghetto Gato.

It didn’t take long for GG to take up residence on our front porch, I suspect the pillows, blanket and endless supply of canned cat food had something to do with it.  Before you knew it she was part of the family, following us around, stalking our chickens and bringing home dead animals and hiding them under her pillow.

All was well until one day when GG was missing.  That night I found her in the shed and clearly something was wrong.  She was in shock and holding her front leg awkwardly.  We rushed her to the 24 hour vet clinic to be told her leg was broken and because of the nature of the break she will probably have to have it amputated.  YIKES!

Luckily, our regular vet just happens to be the only vet in the state who is a specialist in orthopaedic surgery.  What are the odds.  So $1,200.00 later GG still has her leg although she walks with a limp and of course she now lives in our house. She does not comprehend the concept of free choice food and eats until the bowl is clean, therefore GG now stands for Gordo Gato.

The cause of the broken leg you may ask, she was shot.  So to summarize, we take a cat from the mean streets and relocate her to our suburban home as an act of kindness.  Over the course of the next six months she proceeds to lose her ovaries, part of an ear and full use of a limb.  Oh the irony!

Cheers,

Dazey

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