Good intentions, fear and utter stupidity
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Trying to catch a terrified cat ends in a series of shots
I’m in an upscale department store in Bangkok, and as I go down the escalator to the fourth floor, I see a dark shadow flash past on the floor below.
Unable to distinguish between freedom and glass, the shadow crashes against a cabinet. Stunned for a second, the shadow turns and races the other way.
It’s a small, terrified cat, and my heart goes out to the panicked creature.
I guess it’s somehow come up from the car park, and now, it’s unable to find its way out again.
“Did you see where the cat went?” I ask a guard. “Cat? What cat?” he says.
Other guards point towards the back, where the cat’s found refuge in a small storage room. I look inside, and a terrified female cat hisses back at me, as in “Get away!”
I’m going to catch this cat, I decide, and find her a home where she’ll feel safe and happy.
A few years ago, I promised readers that I’d write about the stupid things I’ve done, and this decision to grab a cat whom I don’t know, who doesn’t know me, who’s afraid of people and who’s cornered in a small room, is about the stupidest thing I've done in a long time.
Even an experienced rescuer would never approach such an animal without suitable equipment, but my equipment is a highly unsuitable opaque plastic bag. I’m sure that putting my hands inside it and reaching for her will force her into a corner where I can grab her easily.
The cat isn’t stupid. Out of fear, she attacks the bag, sinking her teeth into my hand inside.
A guard, armed with a heavy blanket, is more successful. He’s able to catch her, but she bites him too.
Now it’s imperative for us to take the cat where she can be kept under observation for at least 10 days, just to see if she begins showing symptoms of contagious diseases, like rabies.
In my ignorance, I still think she’ll settle down. “With good food and quiet, she’ll start showing a sweet nature,” I think.
No. At the vet’s, it takes days before she eats anything. Perhaps she’s too fearful to eat. Perhaps she doesn't know what catfood is, having lived all her life off garbage, rats and anything else she could catch.
It’s now been over a week. Assistants still have to use heavy gloves to clean her cage, change her water and fill her food bowl. Otherwise, she’ll bite and claw them.
Today, the guard and I are in the middle of our series of anti-rabies shots. In addition, I need tetanus shots since the last time I had those was over 20 years ago.
Apart from being feral, the little cat, now named “Hi-So” in honour of the department store, seems to be healthy. After her quarantine period, she’ll be vaccinated.
She’ll be neutered too - unless she’s pregnant. Then her story will take an entirely different direction.
