And Then We Were Eleven

Last January I posted about cat #12, Tiberius.

Tiberius was a problem.  He was very friendly with us, got along OK with most of the other cats, did some hissy-boo at Wilhelm and Apache-- and became a mortal enemy of Hamish,

There was a lot of cat choreography done to try to keep the two separate (even after we had him for 5 months we never could let Tiberius in the house--I at least wanted Hamish to feel safe indoors).  It got to the point that I wasn't even seeing Hamish during the day anymore--but if he did show up, Tiberius would blindside him and run him off.

I missed Hamish.  He used to follow me around and want tummy rubs.  Now, even at night, he was growling and on edge and the rest of the cats were getting nervous.  I was starting to be afraid that Hamish would leave.

It came to a head one day when Tiberius attacked and Hamish jumped the fence into the neighbor's yard.  I went to go get him, and he fought me.  I finally got him into a carrier and inside.  That was it--I was crying, but told Bob "Tiberius has to go"

I *hated* the thought of taking him to the shelter--it's slammed now, because of the number of pets being rescued from the Bay county area (I may have mentioned that there was a major hurricane there).  And he's an adult male.  We had tried to find him a home when we got him, and we tried again.

Then the Cat Goddess smiled on me.  I was going to post an ad on Craigslist--and I saw one of someone wanting a barn cat.  I thought that might be OK--he'd been living outside anyway.  And I thought it sounded positive that the poster said that she would prefer free because she would be paying for the shots and neutering (and hey--Tiberius already had both of those)

So we corresponded, agreed to me--packed Tiberius and food and his favorite bed and went to the meeting point (because it's a good policy not to tell people you meet on Craigslist where you live).  I was still feeling horrible about "getting rid of him" and told Bob that if we heard banjos we were going to turn around and leave.

The new owner got out of the car--and I recognized her!  She works with the Florida Wild Mammal Association (the place where I get my foster possums and squirrels).  He was going to a rehabber!  They take care of animals.  Maybe it would be all right.

And it is--she sent me pictures.

It doesn't look like he's spending all of his time in the barn.  And even when he is, it looks like he doesn't mind it too much.

He just looks so relaxed and happy (and gets along with her two older female cats).  And within two days Hamish was following me around and wanting tummy rubs.  Sometimes things work out.