What’s That? Less Flower Talk and More Cats, You Say? Well, Alright…

Let’s take a break from flowers for a little bit, shall we?

I have an idea: want to see a photo of the mighty Harry?

I caught him in a mellow mood the other morning while he was sniffing the air and making sure the fire escape was appropriately bird-free. Set the camera on macro and waited till he was satisfied the lens wasn’t trying to stare him down.

As far as we can tell, Harry’s about six or seven years old; we got him from Robert Shapiro at http://animalrescuenyc.org/ . He takes in strays and picks up animals from kill shelters and does what he can to place them in happy homes.

Robert had Harry’s original intake form from Animal Control—Harry’s slave name was Liono, it says here. (note to self: find that paperwork and stick it into this post.). There’s a photo attached to the form of Harry as a terrified fellow being held down on a stainless steel table. We wondered why someone would surrender the big guy. Did they get evicted? Allergies? Some kind of broken home drama?

He stank of pee and needed a good brushing and a mani-pedi. But was big and friendly and had a mountain lion-sized purr box. Naturally, we brought him home.

We scribbled down a list of names on a napkin, maybe 30 possibilities. Nowhere on the list was “Harry”. Still not sure where that one came from–I was partial to “Lamont Cranston”, aka The Shadow. But he became Harry immediately.

Then we noticed he went in the litter box constantly. And he peed blood. We thought: Oh no.

And we realized that could have been the reason he was dropped off at Animal Control: peeing outside of the litter box, plus a medical problem that was sure to be expensive equaled a cat a struggling family just couldn’t afford.

A few weeks and a big pile of money later, he was on the mend from having a bladder stone removed. Struvite crystal, they said. He’s been just dandy ever since.

To whoever dropped off a 3 or 4 year old Maine Coon mix at NYC Animal Control in the summer of 2005: Harry, formerly Liono, is now dozing on the chair next to me after a dinner of canned venison and green pea cat food.

He’s just fine now. You’re welcome.

And thanks.