Well, friends, I feel as though I work at the vet’s office. I’ve been there so many days–make that weeks— visiting one pet or another, that part of my routine is to visit the animals that aren’t mine.

Yesterday:

Here is poor Ampersand. His left eye’s third membrane is sewn shut as an aid in the healing of his ulcerated cornea. The eye runs like a fountain. The other eye is said to be getting better but when I see this poor animal I feel terrible. He’s looking thin, all he can do is rest his head and close his eyes. There are animals all around him and one of the treatment areas is right in front of him. What do caged animals think when they see sick animals getting treatment right in front of them?

In a nearby cage is a sweet-faced chubby kitty named, “Moo.” A name befitting a Jersey cow. Ms. Black and White lets no one near her without a fight. The only one who can touch her is Doreen, one of the vet techs. Moo’s been there two and a half years. If stressed, she gets an eye infection.

I decided that a life in a cage without any fun can’t be good so I decided to see if I could pat Moo and offer her a treat.

Doreen said, “what, you’re really going in?”

“Yup.” and I opened her cage. Moo looked at me and I looked at her.

I offered her one of Ampersand’s “Calming” treats. It didn’t go over big. Doreen gave me a handful of something else. Moo approached. So far so good. I started stroking her on the head, then under the chin. The techs looked on in disbelief.

Moo rolled on her back and looked like a big bunny. I stroked her tummy, her chin. She flipped and I just kept petting her and stroking her. “This can’t be,” the techs said. But Moo was happy and purring. I made her feel good. SHE made ME feel good. My son told two nearby vet technicians that I was a “cat whisperer.” There may be some truth to that.

Today I went to visit Ampersand. He looked so tuckered out, his eye running. I hand-fed him some vitamins and treats. A little black and white puppy wagged his tail at me from the next cage. Another cage over sat Moo, looking at me. I got the treats and opened her cage. I put down the treats and she ate them. I went to pet her head. At first she wasn’t happy, she gave me a hiss. Sometimes you have to keep on keeping on. Soon she was flipping and purring. I brought the “Love Glove with me,” a great invention: the glove has a vinyl palm that removes excess fur. Soon I was stroking Moo and giving her a good brushing. She is velvety and her coat must feel like a seal’s, very thick and soft. After I withdrew my hand to clean off the glove I imagined her thinking, “please don’t go yet.” But the techs were doing procedures on some animals and I didn’t want to be in the way.

Turns out Moo is feral, has never been in a house. She was brought in by a lady who fed her in the street and who noticed the horrid eye infections she’d get. She told the vet that she’d just have to put her back out again so he might as well put her to sleep. Over two years later, Moo has had a permanent shelter at the vet’s office.

Her reaction to my reaching out to her probably made me feel better than I could ever make her feel.