Assortment of cats : including a rotund one.

I have started to volunteer at this stunning SPCA.

I am in the cat rooms looking after the unwanted (or still wanted, but could not be kept) pets.  It’s not all about cats and dogs; I have seen a rooster, bunnies and guinea pigs.  I guess I am spoilt, and certainly they are.  In the old days they didn't have rooms, they had cages.  Not that I am saying it is of pet motel standards, but it is pretty good. Guinea Pigs could also be renamed Demonic mess-making creature-pigs; because when they had the end room it was worse than a pig sty. It was a smelly mess of a place that needed someone with a deep passion for cleaning to get into it.  I barely remember it, and never entered it.   I would have named it Guinea Pig Hole, but it is now taken over by cats.  Now it is Hoppy’s room, named after the SPCA’s own resident cat. Hoppy!.  She was a stray cat that lived at the old SPCA for ages.  And she was one cat that would probably never find a  home.  The thing was that she did not like people at all. 

And if we are going to write a blog that focuses on the cats, than really she is the Arch cat.  The cat that defined a SPCA.  The foundation cat.  The primary cat of our institution.

 Hoppy (trumpets sound) the one and only Hoppy.

Not that she was in any way a desirable cat.  She found herself in an end room. She was not entirely happy. The first month or two of our acquaintance was me entering the room with a mop and stuff to be greeted by this blanket in a basket with a big lump in the middle.  And if you peered under the blanket, you got greeted by a HISSSSS.  Maybe a quieter Hiss at times, but she did not like me- or anyone, except maybe Shirley who had taken care of her for all this time.  

Sometimes you would come in and she was spending a guilty moment outside the blankets, in which case she scampered back under the blankets as quick as she could. This black rotund lump leaping into cover.  I think she was quite an expert at leaping under blankets.  Place a blanket anywhere and she would find her way under it.  It was like her super-power.  The ability to hide under any blanket. 

A typical day.

Me (opening the door) Good morning, Hoppy.

Hoppy:  

Me:  How are you today?  (I look at this collection of blankets with a lump in the middle)

Hoppy:

Me: You are in there? (shift the blanket a wee bit to see if there is a response)

Hoppy: Hisssss

Me: Oh you are alive, glory be. 

And so I could begin cleaning.  And also give her breakfast.  She loved breakfast.  In fact she was almost tempted to come outside of her blankets to eat it while you were there.  Almost.

Of course she did not get much exercise, lying under the blanket insured that she was never going to get fit.  And she has a bad leg which does not help.  This bad leg was how she got the name.  It all makes sense.  So she got fat.  And she still is, despite being on a diet.  

The thing is a year later she is quite a different Hoppy now.  In the last few months she spends a lot of her time out of bed, and she eats in a bowl placed away from her bed. In public.  She even lets me pat her.  Once or twice she even rubs against my leg. I think you could say she has come out of her shell - where her shell is a blanket.  

She also gets companions.  Rather than have her alone hand picked shy or older cats are chosen to share her room with her.  Old Elsie was a long time companion, until she found a home. (she is now back with us, but that’s another story)   Now her companion is Twinky, a shy turquoise manx cat.  Hoppy seems to get on well with the other quiet cats.  Although I have no idea what Elsie first thought about it when she was moved in.  "Sharing this room with That?  What is it?  A moving lump of bedding? "

In fact in some moment of inspiration, they moved 4 kittens in with her.  It was a short lived solution, and the kittens moved into the kitten room and all got adopted in the end.  No doubt traumatised by living in a room with a shambling mound of laundry that made monstrous hissing noises when disturbed. 

That was Hoppy.  And still is. Sort of.  A cat who is not advertised for adoption, not forced to be admired by oodles of people, and has her own lovely room.  

And that was my first blog.  

Tune in - same time same Channel for my next one.