This story is not a story for the faint of heart, though it does have a fairy tale ending. It is about my life. I am a Katrina rescue cat and my current name is Cozy
I was born from a litter of 4, outside the city of New Orleans. New Orleans mostly consisted of single moms like my mom, because of few spay and neuter programs. Though I thought I was a cute kitten, humans in the state of LA still viewed me and my litter-mates as "varmints" and treated all cats as such. Gosh, my relatives were the reason the rat population was down! Nothing like a "thank you" to be born behind the junk yard and thrown in the streets with the other ferals. I quess that is why I am anti-social with other cats, (and dogs), because I had to fend for myself
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The most unforgettable day was a day last summer when humans were quickly stacking our cages in temporary places next to our hospital in New Orleans. Then came a time I thought was the end of the world. Trees and all kinds of things ripped the walls out, that had once protected us, so rain and wind pounded us. Complete silence came, followed by days of moaning from all of us starving. Post traumatic syndrome has affected my memory at this moment in time. All I can say is, all my roommates were found dead. Lucky me had some sweet military man throw food in my cage, which saved my life.
Out of no where came an angel who was part of the AGH team. She picked up my weak body and gave me fluids. Then she brought me to another place where another human took me in a car to what they called "California". There I went to a "foster home". This human was like a mom and called me "Cozy" because I would love to hug her for hours on her shoulder. Somehow I knew this would not last, because I heard this human foster mom call the prayer circle for me. Yikes.
On a special day, where I remembered smelling big birds cooking, (humans referred to it as "Thanksgiving"), my human foster mom yelled out "Wow! Cozy won the kitty lotto... he was accepted to go to BEST FRIENDS!" I had heard of this BEST FRIENDS in New Orleans, because many of my fellow mates had been rescued or had gone off to this so called "Disneyland" for cats and dogs. Personally, I thought it was folklore and never believed that this so- called palace existed.
Going to BEST FRIENDS was the best day of my life. M-E-O-W, (still with my slow southern accent). There was no kitty bigotry or pet racism. This was kitty and doggy heaven with servants giving us massages, etc. Unlike the cruel world, who only wanted young full breeds, BEST FRIENDS liked us for who we were, not how we looked, what breed we were or how old we were. There were houses made just for us, atriums with tunnels, trees, toys and ramps. Even the dogs had gym like facilities making them happy and well mannered. Moreover, the stories here were heart warming. My ex-roommate Nellie had her knuckles amputated, ("declawed"), in order to save the furniture in her last home. Because Nellie's paws were too sore to ever go in the kitty box, her human guardian gave her up, just like that. Nellie's heart was broken so she stopped eating. BEST FRIENDS helped her find a better home with a human who treated Nellie as part of the family. Since Nellie was handicapped, she was given soft kitty litter. Nellie's new home also understood if she still missed the kitty box, it was because of the pain.