LUCKY GARVIN: The Burglar And Oz

Lucky Garvin
Lucky Garvin

Sometime back a lady walked into her back yard and thought she saw something; something very small, orange, and white; something not moving. Maybe a dead mouse? It proved to be a one-day-old kitten, umbilical cord still attached. How he got there? Who is to say? Since Sabrina and I not only do wildlife rescue, but have raised creatures as small as six grams, we were asked to try and raise him.

Two weeks later, a school bus – not routinely used – was called into service. As the driver entered that bus, he thought he heard a weak meowing. Investigating, he found a dead momma cat and a teeny, malnourished, tri-colored kitten trying to get milk from a mother who would never produce again. This sick, malnourished two-week-old baby too was sent to us.

Sabrina worked her magic, and these two creatures who had no prayer not only survived their beginnings, but thrived.

The orange male was a dream [orange male cats are reputed to have the best feline dispositions.]  We named him ‘Oz.’

Big mistake.

The tri-colored baby did well but stayed small. We took her to our cat-vet, Dr. Connie, who determined the little one was a Munchkin variant; a cat who would, even in adulthood, never be more than half the size of a regular cat, but lacking the genetic defects of a true Munchkin.

We named her ‘Mitzy’ [AKA ‘Burglar.’ This because she kept stealing things off the counter, pens, bills, car keys, prescriptions; never have found them. Imagine:  you call your physician and tell him ‘My cat stole my prescriptions.” Yeah, that’ll fly.] So we nick-named her ‘Burglar.’ Mistake number two. You never name a pet you may have to give up.

We kept them for two and a half months, the normal time interval for fostering, but facts are facts: “We don’t have room for two more cats, Gahv, even though they’re so sweet.”

Since they were now old enough and healthy enough for adoption, we returned them to the RVSPCA, and asked the wonderful folks there to find a good home for both of them; they were not to be separated.

During their time here, they got along famously, playing and sleeping together, and grooming each other. They had no idea they weren’t siblings. I had my doubts. I had seen the way Sabrina looked at them. Several days later, the RVSPCA called to say they had found a great owner; she would be there first thing in the morning

That night I awakened to Sabrina crying in her sleep. I knew why. At 6:00 AM, she was on the phone telling them if anything went wrong with the adoption, she wanted Oz and Burglar [Mitsy] back; the deal was off. We got a call about four hours later telling us the strangest thing: yes, the woman had arrived, but only wanted one of the two.

Sabrina rushed to the RVSPCA building, walked in to an office and asked for Burglar and Oz. Under the desk was a cardboard box containing the two. They had not stirred since being put there. But, upon hearing ‘mommy’s’ voice, two little heads, one orange, one black and caramel, popped up. Kathy, on staff of the RVSPCA smiled. “They know they’re going home.”

They were ours again.

Oz has developed a long, soft, angora-like coat; he’s his own blanket and pillow; a walking dust-mop. He joins me in the workshop and then presents to his mother with his coat full of sawdust. She eyes me accusingly. “And just what have you been doing to my baby?”  I just shrug; I’m no match for static electricity.

Only hard-core animal lovers will understand what follows: none of our pets have just one name, ie, ‘Mitsy’ = ‘Burglar’.  Oz is a species of cat – little known- an ‘Ozmatron’; and the means by which we have come to love him is, of course, ‘Ozmosis.’

The ‘Burglar’ has heart attacks. She sees one of us coming and drops promptly on her side; ‘resuscitation’ comes in the form of a belly rub. Sabrina and I are the victims of a previously undescribed condition: OBD [Obsessive Burglar Disorder.]

We have both refused treatment.

Something went wrong with their adoption, but went very, very right for us.

Lucky Garvin

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