The story segment below could be construed to be a series of sad events - an isolated eccentric older woman facing an eviction and having to give up some of her beloved pets in the process, unfortunately feeling that the mobs of feral cats that she fed daily who accumulated in the lot next to her building were her pets as well - an opinion not shared by her landlord. However; (especially those who are familiar with the first book), you will find that what may begin as a common and tragic tale is always something more. It could be unusual and a little dangerous, involve blood shed, high ranking police officials, in full dress uniform en-route to an important ceremony, on their knees in a parking lot yelling into the back of a car and then arguing about who's better at it. Some hysteria...mass hysteria as well as the more common humorous type, and surprises. Always surprises.
Below is a segment from the sequel to Tales from a Dog Catcher...only the very first part since there is so much more to the story. This is a promise that the book you ask me about is in the final stages and coming soon. I just wanted to give you a little taste of what's to come and thank you for your patience and continued loyalty. I hope you enjoy this small preview from More Tales from a Dog Catcher. - Lisa
On top of the rest of his complaints, he had just informed me that his taxes paid my salary. You would think with so many people paying my salary that I would be driving a sports car and vacationing on a warm tropical island somewhere…but this was not the case. I was standing on a sidewalk in the middle of the city on a cold day with the wind making me realize I should've opted for the long underwear underneath my uniform pants. A growing audience was waiting to see what I, and their tax dollars, would do next. The crowd wanted action.
And that was when I spotted The General.
Miss Sally had named him “The General” and it suited him. He was a grizzled orange cat - clearly a veteran of many battles. He was probably the scariest cat I had ever seen. He had scars criss-crossing the side of his face and missing fur in other areas. Half of his left ear was missing from some conflict in his checkered past, but mostly…he was mean and proud of it. He was pretty bold for a feral cat. I would sometimes get calls from people complaining a wild orange cat had chased them in the middle of the city. I knew immediately who they were referring to. He wouldn’t attack them; at least he never did before. His modus operandi was to charge at strangers walking by and as soon as they reacted, turn and fly back in the other direction. He would run out and chase cars as they were pulling away. He was one of the few wild cats there who didn’t mind getting a little close to people, however not for affectionate purposes. He seemed to enjoy harassing them and showed no fear of humans. It was this feature of his personality that led me to my idea.
If I was going to get anywhere near The General, I would certainly need these. By the time I turned around, The General was already in the trap sniffing at the cat food. I started to walk over towards the empty lot. He didn’t move but just sniffed the food and started to eat. I quietly approached him from behind. I knew I only had a split second to do this right. I gave him a quick push and quickly snapped up the trap and tried to slide in the latch that would close it.
All I have to do is get him in the car and get out of here. I thought to myself. I sort of limped over to the car, banging the heavy trap against my leg. This cat wasn’t as heavy as I thought he would be but the fact that he was howling and thrashing around didn’t help matters any. I was having a hard time holding onto the trap but I needed to use my other hand to open the back door. I must have caught my hand in it somehow and the gloves were stiff, making all of this more difficult. The General kept howling and hissing, but he wasn’t as large as I thought he would be. I’d held on to Dobermans and Rottweilers easier than this. Why was it so heavy? That was when I heard the crowd again.
"No thank you. I can do this." I said. I opened the back door with my free hand and struggled to slide the trap into the back seat and tried to close the door to make sure that The General didn’t escape. I was pushing as hard as I could, but my right hand wasn’t cooperating. I turned to face the landlord to ask him what he was talking about when I looked down at the sidewalk and noticed that I had stepped in what looked like a puddle of blood. “Oh no! Had I hurt The General? Did I close his paw in the trap or something?”
I closed my eyes and put my arms up in front of my face and waited for the white light.
I looked over at my right hand and pulled the glove off with my left. It didn’t look as bad as I thought it would, considering how much I was bleeding, but when I tried to move my fingers, nothing happened.
There was no way I could use the radio without pushing the transmit button.
“Thanks” I said. That was sweet. Then I thought about it for a moment and asked
“You’re welcome.” I said. Then he and his mother walked away. Aside from him, I just couldn’t wrap my head around why all of these adults had nowhere else to be considering it was a week day. The previously angry building owner - now apparent friend, was waving the police car over towards us. For someone constantly trying to stay under the radar, I usually ended up doing the opposite. My friend Nick pulled up and shut off the sirens. I was glad they hadn't called the ambulance. This was a quick trip to the emergency room - and thankfully it was busy enough today that I didn't have to be anymore the focus of attention as I already was. I sighed. Finally, for the moment it seemed as though there was quiet.
More Tales from a Dog Catcher (c) 2016 Lisa Duffy-Korpics
Photo courtesty of Mark Rogers Photography: San Francisco Pet Photography