Most of you following our travels for the past eight years know that we tend to adopt (and spoil) all the neighborhood animals, foster friend's dogs and cats –– whatever we can do to pretend we have pets without the responsibility. When we finally settle down (when we grow up?), we'll probably end up with an extensive menagerie.
So Michael has been feeding our neighborhood cats in La Manzanilla the occasional canned kitty food, the smoked sliced turkey from Costco, the leftover chicken casadilla from a favorite beach restaurant.
And not just the old stuff.
Needless to say, his gato groupies have been increasing mui rapido. It's not uncommon to open the door first thing in the morning and have five feral cats out on the front stoop, waiting for breakfast.
We've had a favorite from the beginning, a loyal friend who has gotten so civilized that she's decided that coming in the house would be the start of a great friendship. One time she slipped in and we found her comfortably settling into life on the bed. But Cleo and her fleas got bounced out the door (with treats to make amends).
Cleo's been looking a little punk lately –– what we thought was a little skin problem from fleas has been spreading all over her hindquarters. So we finally borrowed the hav-a-hart trap from the local community activist who started Cisco's Amigo's, a twice-a-year neutering clinic that clips and snips about 140 dogs and cats in a factory line of volunteers.
We put the stinky kitty food in the trap, she climbed right in, the door slammed and she was in the new local vet's office in minutes.
Well, Cleo's back with a new name --- Clete. Turns out she's a he. Or was a he. Oops. The skin rash has been treated, he's been dewormed and deflea-ed. And neutered. He's still quite the drugged-out cat --- falling down like a drunk all over the house while we wait for the anesthesia to wear off.
His fellow kitty compatriots are outside wondering what it takes to get invited in the house. If Cleo could talk, I'm sure he'd be urging them to find other accommodations for the duration. They're next.
By the way, the veterinary charge was about $14 U.S.
While Clete was safely tucked in the house recuperating, Michael and I checked out the sunset before dinner where we ran into Molly, the great fire-dancing hula hoopster, where I got a quick lesson on the beach.
This is one sport I never could get the hang of as a kid but she swears I'll be 'hooping' within a day. So a trip to the ferreteria tomorrow for the makings for a hula hoop.
My first hoop lesson on the La Manzanilla beach