Bite Cat #3886 ~ The Story of Lil' Red

With Love in My Eyes for Lil’ Red

Bite Cat #3886

The Story of Lil’ Red

In the late summer of 1991, my grandmother found two teenage kittens, a brother and sister, scampering about her country home in Rio Linda, California.  She named them Red and Rusty and began leaving tuna on the porch for them.  Shortly after, another kitten showed up which she named Honey. 

My mother was excited that her mother was showing an interest in rescuing these abandoned kittens and promptly drove 3 hours to see that the kittens got shots and were spayed and neutered.  Mom made little beds for them in the garage on top of plastic summer chairs while the screen porch was waiting to be fixed.  Mom especially fell in love with Red who reminded her of our own cat named Red back home in Aptos, CA.  Nan had named her new cat after our cat with his classic orange marmalade tabby markings.

Tragedy struck when Nan had the neighbors come fix the screen porch.  She wanted the kittens to have security with the ability to see the backyard and smell the fresh air.  Nan went to pick up Red to get him out of the way of the neighbor's work.  When the neighbor began drilling, poor Red jumped out of Nan’s arms abruptly scratching it so bad that she had to be taken to the doctor.  Nan did not know that Red would get so startled by the loud sound.

Unfortunately, Nan was unaware that the doctors office was required to notify Animal Control when a tetanus shot is given to a patient.  So when Animal Control showed up unannounced a few days later demanding to take Red in for quarantine for 7 days, Nan was frightened, confused, upset, and helpless for a lady in her early 80s.  She did not understand what was happening.  Red had just received his rabies shot earlier that month in November.  But they still demanded to take him away.  And at that point, Nan, all alone with no one to consult with, hastily surrendered her other cats on the spot for no other reason other than the whole frightening experience made her want to simply give up.

We were unaware that any of this ordeal had happened until a few days later.  When Mom heard the news, she was devastated.  Because if we had known, we would have come up right away to rescue the kittens.  I rarely saw my mother cry, and when she cried, it meant that she was very upset.  She kept chanting about Red in particular, saying, “Those eyes! Those eyes!”  She told me she could see his eyes looking up at her as he snuggled up on the little bed she made for him in the garage.

We had a Sacramento phone book at our house having lived there before ourselves, so I went up to my room and found the number for Animal Control.  I explained the story to the person who answered the phone and inquired about the kittens.  I was astonished when the woman said that Rusty and Honey had already been “killed”.  I swear to God that is how she phrased it.  I held back the tears and asked why.  “Because we only hold them for 36 hours.”  She went on to say that my grandmother should have surrendered them to the SPCA instead.

Mom had previously taken comfort in the fact that these kittens might have a chance to be adopted.  I vowed to let her believe that a good outcome was possible and did not want to share my grief that these kittens (who I had never met) had been killed.  Then I asked about Red.  Red was still under quarantine and would be available for release on Thanksgiving.  But Animal Control was closed on Thanksgiving, so I could come the next day, they said.  I feared he would be killed, too, if I did not rush up there.  What if someone disregarded the Thanksgiving extension and just “killed” him?   I could not take a chance.  Somehow, I had to get up there sooner.  And somehow, the cold, unfeeling person who told me the other kittens had been “killed”, told me I could come up the night before Thanksgiving.

I put a note on the door for my soon to be arriving relatives and jumped in the car heading to Sacramento.  I remember having no money on me for the bridge toll and stopped at a Shell Gas Station in Scotts Valley pleading for them to let me write a check for over the amount, so I could have bridge money. No time to stop at a bank.  And somehow, they agreed.  So off I went not knowing where I was going but knowing I had to get there.  I drove straight through and ended up going through Stockton instead of the Bay Area and ended up not even going over that bridge.  I got lost in Sacramento but got to the Animal Control about ten minutes before closing. The told me they would go get “Bite Cat #3886”.   And then they brought Red to me.  I opened up the cardboard carrier and took a peek.  And I admit it was not really love at first site like it was for my mom.  I thought he had a “funny nose” my mom used to say.  Our original Red and his sister T.J. back home had “owl faces”, and the first thing, I thought was that this Red looked so different.  It was a funny first impression.

I did not even tell my grandmother I was in town or go visit. I had to turn around and rush back.  I had brought my own plastic carrier with me in the car.  So I transferred Red to the carrier, and what I remember the most, is that on the way back home, when he cried, I put my finger in the carrier door, so he could feel my touch and he could nibble on my finger.  And so we bonded on the three hour drive home.

My family was a bit mad at me for making my relatives go out and find something else to do since no one was home when they arrived on Thanksgiving Eve.  I could not tell them about the urgency.  That Rusty and Honey had died.  I kept that secret for three years.

Red became “Lil’ Red” on that Thanksgiving Eve of 1991.  He rejuvenated our 10-year-old Red for the next five years as they romped and wrestled together in the garage.  He was a good friend to T.J., especially after Red died in 1996.  When I had to take T.J. to the vet to be euthanized for CRF in 1997, Lil’ Red kissed her goodbye.

Before Mama died in 1994, I told her about Rusty and Honey.  I wanted her to find them in Heaven.  To this day, nearly 18 1/4 years later, I still cry for the kittens I never knew.

On November 27, 1991, I rescued a cat named “Red”.  And for the next 17 1/4 years, he rescued me.

Rest in Peace

Lil’ Red

Spring 1991-January 9, 2009

Forever Loved

~ Written January 6, 2010 for petloss.com