The porch kitty who showed up here awhile ago is now Portia. She had been staying downtairs in the barn cat facility, but I brought her inside to the boarding rooms while I was traveling. It's quiet as heck up here (time to add a radio) so tonight I came up with the camera, a mug of tea, and my netbook to get a photo of her and spend some time.
When I took Portia into the vet to be spayed, I asked them to check for a spay scar. Her fur was entirely too glossy for an unfixed adult female. Sure enough, they found one, so after a combo test and vaccinations, home she came.
I put an ad in the Broader View Weekly (thank you, Karen!) and called Stray Haven, but haven't heard a peep.
Tonight, I finally convinced her to stop rubbing, rolling, and purring and come up on my lap to lay down awhile. As we sat here, I suddenly realized her paws were awfully soft...
Portia is declawed!
What is your story, little girl? How did you get here? Do you belong to one of my neighbors who has not thought to stop by? Did some pissed off boyfriend dump you here because his girlfriend loved you too much? Did your owner die and at-a-loss relatives figured here you'd "find a home" (if the elements didn't kill you first)?
Being declawed will make her much more adoptable. I just don't want to adopt out someone's lost and beloved cat.
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