Sunday, February 24, 2013

10 (or so) Reasons Why Maddox Believes He Is the Luckiest Pet in America


Oh, hai. It's me, Maddox. Hold on a sec...


Okay, that's better! The view was a little obstructed up there. Besides, orange isn't really my color.

So anyway, I've been thinking...

...been thinking about how out of all the lucky, formerly out-on-the-street (so to speak) shelter pets, I (Maddox) am without-a-doubt the luckiest*. 

In fact, even though I'm what they call a "rescue," I'm certain that I'm the luckiest pet in America.
Perhaps you will indulge me long enough to explain?
(because sometimes you've just gotta say it out loud)

Okay, YAY! Here goes...

Why I (Maddox) Am the Luckiest Pet in America

  1. I can speak English and have a part-time typist who takes my dictation for important blog posts, such as this. (Editor's translation: Maddox is lucky that I can't stop blabbing about him on the interwebs.)

  2. Waayyy back in early March of 2010 (or sooner, I didn't look at the calendar that day), instead of releasing me into the wild city streets to fend for myself, my person (for reasons I have not yet determined) loaded my extra-large tabby self into his (and/or her) car and drove me over to Richmond Animal Care and Control (aka the city pound).

  3. The nice people at the pound orphanage, instead of saying to my person, "sorry, but we have no vacancy for your extra-large kitty," said "OK, we are sorry that you have to say goodbye, but we will take your kitty and try to find his extra-large self a new home and some new peeps."

  4. On March 17, 2010, because they needed to make room for some other in-between-homes city cats, and to help facilitate my finding a new perfect home (because I was worth it), the nice people loaded me into a different car and drove me a short way over to a bigger pet "orphanage" called the Richmond SPCA.


  5. Now, there are about 16,241 reasons why I got lucky when I went to stay at the Richmond SPCA, but neither of us have time to go through all that, right? So I'll just touch on the big ones, starting with: The kind people at the RSPCA (after calling me "precious" and naming me Maddox) said I could stay there, without missing a meal, and with toys and a warm bed, for as long as I needed. I didn't even have to sweep or do dishes or laundry!


  6. But then, guess what? About a week after my arrival, most likely because I didn't realize how lucky I was at the time, and was a worry wart, I got a bad cold - with snot bubbles and everything. But did they toss me out on my ear? Nope! That's because the Richmond SPCA has a whole section of the building called the Clinic for Compassionate Care, where the veterinarians and other people-who-are-trained-to-fix-sick-pets work. So yeah, they gave me some icky medicine until I felt loads and loads better...

  7. ...until this: Because it was taking longer than anticipated for my new perfect person to find me in the orphanage, I turned into a worry wart again, but this time (warning: gross-out ahead), crystal rock formations started to grow in my pee. And well, OUCH!!!!! They call this unfortunate condition Feline Lower Urinary Tract Disease (FLUTD), by the way. I have no idea what flutes have to do with it. But anyway, the vets and staff at the RSPCA took care of me then, too. And after I started eating a special mushy food with gravy on top, my pee was all good again.


  8. (fast forward TWENTY months of me just hanging out in my RSPCA kitty condo, watching the world go by, getting considerably grumpy in my advanced 9-year-old age, occasionally dreaming about blue skies and small, flitting creatures that beg me chase)

    Wait for it...

    My future new person (despite her nearsightedness and my lazy eye) locked eyes on me from across the room during her RSPCA volunteer cat handling class!

    Now, this wouldn't be nearly as noteworthy had I not been a dead-ringer for her (dearly departed and perfect) shelter cat, Buster. In fact, I kid you not, I think Buster's face might have even materialized over mine (just like Jacob Marley's did to Scrooge, on the lion's head door-knocker, except not nearly as creepy) and sent a telepathic message to my new mom to bust me out or else he'd send the spirit of "future" Maddox! Aghhh!

    Spirit of "Future" Maddox (aka really old me with a mustache and spectacles)

  9. So that night, after my future mom person had the "spiritual" experience over me, right in the middle of learning how to properly dispose of poop from the kitty townhouses, she sped home and Googled my name, only to find out, after some detective work, that I'd been an RSPCA resident as far back as 2010. And then, because she was fresh off of fostering a litter of three kittens, decided that she'd inquire about fostering me - to give me a break from my condo.

    And so the very next day she found out that yes, I was a great candidate for fostering, and that she could come and pick me up the next week. So she said "with pleasure," as long as I wasn't "terrified of dogs," which as it turns out I wasn't. In fact, at my last foster home, I might have even scared the living daylights out of the resident 70-lb. lab. Also, I swiped at people to get my point across. But this news did not deter my future foster mom, uh-uh. No, she insisted, "Oh, that's not a problem; my dogs and I are no strangers to temperamental cats (and by cats she meant my bear-cat sister Eva)!" So the next week she came to pick me up (in the carrier she brought with her), loaded me into her car and drove me home.

    On the 19th day of my 28-day foster period, she adopted me.
    Me napping beside my adoption papers

  10. It's been six months since I got my new home, and I could give you another 49,309 (+/-) reasons why I'm most lucky, such as, FREE ROAM of the house, window views, contented naps where I'm all sprawled out, sighing loudly as I dream about my younger days, frolicking about with careless kitten abandon. And then there's the fellow feline companionship...LOTS of it (something I longed for, but couldn't have in my shelter arrangement, due to my special anti-pee-crystal, gravy-covered food).

    But mostly, I'm lucky because my mom person has more lives than a cat. If she didn't, because she told me so, her heart would have burst a long time ago on account of it overflowing with love and affection for me. 

    Perhaps I should try not to be so endearing. :)
The Maddox Mitten-Hug: Guaranteed to make one's heart swell with affection 

*****

* lucky = blessed, gifted, thriving

Editor's Note: Clearly, Maddox is a "lucky" pet, but then again, so are the thousands of others out there, who might have started out on a desperate path, but with the help of the hundreds of local rescue organizations in America, including Richmond Animal Care and Control and the Richmond SPCA, got the care and shelter they needed, and ended up in loving (and even cushy ;)) permanent homes.

This blog post is dedicated to them: the people behind the rescues, who make "lucky" possible.

Thank you!

Have another minute to spare?

Click HERE to help Maddox win Petfinder's Luckiest Pet of 2013 Contest and $5,000 in cash for the Richmond SPCA!

P.S. (I can't believe I forgot this.) "Maddox" is a Welsh surname, meaning "fortunate."
:-)

6 comments:

  1. I loved seeing Maddox's story all in one place. I know it didn't take long after you brought him home to decide to adopt Maddox. But it's nice to hear it was love at first sight.

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  2. You are very lucky and fortunate sweety
    Benny & Lily

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  3. Such a sweet and deserving boy :) I think you are both lucky!! I'm off to help you win!!

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  4. Lucky kitty! Maddox you landed on all four paws for sure. Have a marvelous Monday.
    Best wishes Molly

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  5. Lovely blog post! Lucky Maddox :-)

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  6. Such a beautiful story! Everyone wins.

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