Crazy

Dear Clare,

Thank you for the homemade cat mats. I know I'm supposed to give them to the foster cats-and I will, but I had to “test drive” one on my cats first.

Dear Clare,

What did you put in the cat mat? Spencer's sense of smell is poor. Normally he isn't interested in catnip. Is there something you want to tell me? Spencer is bunny-kicking the shit out of this mat. His eyes are glazed over. What is going on?

Dear Clare,

My cats won't share. They want their own mat. If they don't get one, they'll spat.

Dear Clare,

There is more square feet of cat, than there is square foot of cat mat. Can you make me a bedspread sized one?

Dear Clare,

Do you know if there's a catnip rehab facility in Connecticut? I'm thinking Bob might need to go there. He looks like he's had a bit too much and Nicky can't stop rolling around and yeowling incoherently. I'm afraid the neighbors are going to call the cops.

Dear Clare,

Nora would like to know if you can rub her belly to maximize her user experience (since she can no longer reach her own belly).

Dear Clare,

Nicky also asked if you could rub something, but I had to edit out what he said. I blame the drugs for his ungentlemanly outburst...plus, he had a surgery a few years ago and that sort of limited his options in that department, anyway.

Dear Clare & All My Dear CiCH Readers,

It's friends like you that are like a big mat of catnip for me. I can wrap myself up in your comforting words and breathe deep, feeling suddenly quite invigorated and alive when only moments before I was too busy licking my wounds to do much else.

With Love,

Robin

Spencer flailing around in the hopes that the string toy will accidently fall into his waiting arms. Getting up to chase after it seems like just too much work.

...yeah. I gotta million of 'em! That one was so funny, right? Right, buddy?

How 'bout this one:

What do you get if you cross a cat with a tree? A cat-a-logue.

Get it? Cat-a-Log??!!

Hey. That was funny! Hey! Come back here!

I let the kittens out of their room to have a break while I built the cat tree. They saw the parts and got all excited! Each kitten had to sniff-test everything before they got bored and ran into the bathroom to rip the towels off the holders ('cause it's FUN).

I read the directions. I only needed ONE tool. How hard is this gonna be to build? Piece of cake! I just needed to find a 7/16" wrench (though I had to look up WHAT a wrench looked like online, first!).

This is not bad at all. I just have to screw THREE legs into the platform that has FIVE holes in it. Okay there's a clue here. Not all the holes look the same. Two do not have threads in the hole, so they must not be for the legs?!

I screwed down the legs, but they didn't fit tight to the base and I was worried I'd strip the screws, so I did the best I could. I know I'm going to use bolts on the opposite end of each cedar post, to connect it to another platform. I'm thinking this will give the cat tree the rigidity it needs. I thought it was weird that the bolts were driven into the bottom of each post, along with a tag, reminding whatever fool was building this thing that yes, THIS is the bolt you need.

Why isn't the bolt in a NICE PLASTIC BAG? Why is the FOUR HUNDRED MILE LONG BOLT in the end of the post? I use the wrench, not sure which end of it, to get the first of THREE bolts out. I turn it. The post turns, but the bolt does not. The post is ROUGH cedar, so my hands are going to get full of splinters if I hold it tightly.

I get a wash cloth to protect my hands, grab the post and give the bolt a turn. FINALLY it budges a QUARTER of a TURN. WHAT LUNATIC PUT THE BOLT INTO THIS POST? Was it a sister with PMS, too? I hope a woman would have more sense. This f-ker was in there so TIGHT that the best I could do was do quarter turns, even stopping every so often to MEASURE how much of the damn bolt had come out of the damn post, to see if I was ALMOST DONE. It got to 1 3/4" and I took a break. I read my book for awhile. I played with the kittens. My hands hurt and I was already getting a knot in my neck. I was not going to give up. I would just go slow.

I had no choice in the matter. My only speed was SLOW. I got up and went back and tried again. This time I discovered that being fat is an advantage. I could hold the post with my left hand, press the post against my stomach to keep the bloody thing from turning, then use my right to unscrew the damn bolt.

It worked.

It took an hour to get the three legs put on the cat tree. Just about that time, Sam came home. He must have either remembered I was having PMS or took drugs, because he came into the bedroom, saw what I was doing and offered to help get it finished up. He was nice. Something was wrong. Maybe he knocked off a piece with a Mistress! Of course! That was it! Instead of going to the Store, he shagged a cheap floozy! I'd have to check the fridge and pantry to make sure he really went to the store! I didn't say anything, but I simmered, waiting for further clues.

The rest of the assembly was very easy-of course, because Sam showed up. So no one will believe what a beyatch it was to get those bolts off! My biceps knew better, plus I swore I had a splinter just over my belly button.

The kittens gathered around to inspect the new cat tree before it was delivered to their very lonely and bored Mama.

Sam moved the cat tree for me while I stood in the bathtub, holding Cupid in my arms, waiting for the next fight to begin. We were both being very careful to use as few words as possible and to just get the job done so we could separate again until the next mating season would draw us back together.

I placed Cupid on her new cat tree. She gave it a sniff and jumped off it. Great. Another wise expenditure of funds I don't have.

She came right back, jumped up and begin to investigate. I scratched my fingers against the nice, tall sisal post to get her attention. Right away she grabbed it, dug her claws in deep and stretched out her back. It must have felt good to her since there is nothing soft in the bathroom she can scratch.

She posed pretty for a few photos. At first, not sure what to think about this thing.

I hoped she would warm up to it and in a few minutes of me petting her, she began to relax and enjoy her new hangout spot.

It made me forget I was hormonal to see Cupid enjoying herself. Although there's little room for me to sit down with her, at least during the many hours she's alone, she can get up high enough to see out the window and scratch and nap on a number of different platforms.

I counted my blessings that I got that cat tree built without killing anyone and that Sam and I had an unspoken truce. I would go back to the bedroom and read while the kittens played. Sam would play his guitar in the basement. Cupid would enjoy her cat tree. All of us alone, but somehow still together, under the same roof. Now we just had to wait for all this nonsense to pass and for life to settle back down again.

Update: Groceries WERE purchased. No floozies were had. Cupid enjoys the out-of-bounds, brand new, cat bed that's on the top of the dryer. So far she doesn't hang out on the cat tree unless I'm in the room. Hmpf.

It's not my fault I get PMS. I didn't go online and order a 12-pack of the “Super-Beyatch 2010 Kit.” You know, the one with “extra Rage flavored” tablets?

I get PMS. Some times it's REALLY bad. I think it's PMDD, but since I'm going insane at the time, it's tough to do any research when all I want to do is slit my wrists, cry, get mad about things that only usually annoy me, watch chick flicks, overeat carbs, or do all of those things at the same time.

As a Public Service, I notify Sam a few days ahead to watch out. I do this every single month. Every single month he seems to FORGET to steer clear of me during this malström and gets pissed at me when I start to get pissy.

Yesterday we had to run some errands. Before we even left the house, Sam noticed we'd gotten a big shipment by the front door. I was delighted to see that Cupid's new Cat Tree had arrived! The box was too huge to schlep into the house so I suggested we cut it open and take the parts into the house and leave the box in the garage to take to out to be recycled later. So Sam stepped up and started ripping the box apart. Intent on being helpful, he grabbed at the contents of the box as I had already started to do. I hit some of his fingers and he recoiled back, shouted, then gave me a REALLY nasty look. Well my friends, that was it.

There goes the switch. KAH-CHONG! (Yes, that's the sound it makes. Trust me.) The PMS I had been trying so hard to avoid went from a simmer to a boil. I thought; “If he hadn't been trying so hard to be a Boy Scout (push me out of the way), we could have just gotten this done without the drama!” Now I was mad. He was mad. The tension only got worse as I drove (safely and not insanely) to the Bakery.

In trying to avoid things going more postal, I said that I didn't feel like we were getting along very well and that I thought we should forget doing the other errands and just go back home. Well, that just pissed Sam off even more, but what was I to do? I knew that at any moment I was going to lose control, drive into a tree, screaming all the while; “I TOLD YOU I WAS GOING TO HAVE PMS. I TOLD YOU. DID YOU LISTEN TO ME, EVER?!!!!SEE? THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR NOT PAYING ATTENTION! WHY DIDN'T YOU STAND NEAR ME IN THE BAKERY? DO I SMELL BAD? YOU HATE ME, DON'T YOU!”

So we got home. I took off my coat, trying to be calm. Sam walked in the door, got his car keys and turned around and curtly said; “I'm going to the store.”

You have GOT to be kidding me! We didn't even HAVE to go to the store. So I offer up the shopping list and manage not to rip his head off. All I could do was think what a jerk he was for putting a bigger rift between us while I'm really trying NOT to do or say a thing. It's the only way to prevent Armageddon. 100% avoidance of each other until it passes!

I decided I was going to build the stupid cat tree for Cupid. I told myself I would go slow and if I got upset, that I would stop. I saw the video about how to build the cat tree on Drs. Foster Smith's web site. It looked super easy. I can do this. I do not need help!

RIGHT???!!!

Donner declares; “Mmmm...nothing smells like home more than me mum's bum!”

I really hope I don't have to change the name of my web site to: Covered in Ringworm. I really don't. I'm not a big fan of change, in the first place, and it would be an understatement to say this was an unwelcome surprise.

Ahhh...life is good for Cupid. If we only knew then...

I've gotten a lot of emails from other folks that do rescue. I feel like I've been sitting in a bar, shootin' the shit with my war Veteran buds. We're kickin' back some brewskis, bitchin' about our wives (well, more likely, cats, in this case). Their reaction to the state-of-the-worm is always the same: [cue inhalation of cigarette smoke and exhale while speaking] “Yeah, I had ringworm go through about ____ cats. I was real lucky because my own cats must have built up an immunity to it since they'd had it before (BEFORE??!!). That is just one thing you don't want to have to deal with. It's just a nightmare.”

[cue additional smoking] “Yeah, I knew a rescue group that had to shut it's doors for ___ months when one of their kittens broke through enemy lines with it. Oh man, it was bad! There were medics scrambling everywhere, trying to get a handle on the situation, but it was dire. No one got much sleep for weeks, that's for sure.”

[order another round of beers] “In '67...I'll never forget it. The look in their eyes when I told them it was Ringworm. Those damn swamps-all that wet, leads to no good. No good. And all that ointment. The smell. I'll never forget that smell 'til the day I die.”

We all nod silently. Everyone knows about the Ringworm epidemic of '67 and still brings a chill down to our toes.

This is the foreign lesion!

One of the guys pats my hand in solidarity. She's fought that battle before and wants me to know she's right there with me...

...Until she realizes that I might be carrying Ringworm, too. At which point, she quickly smashes out her ciggy and makes a mad dash for the door and the waiting bottle of hand sanitizer in her car.

Yesterday was tough for me. I woke up at 7am, after only five hours of sleep. I was up late the night before because I hadn't spent enough time with Cupid and her kittens since they arrived. I've made sure they've had plenty to eat and drink and a clean litter pan, but that's about all the time I've had. I've been so busy running the sick cats back and forth to the vet, spending time with Dash (he's alone most of the day and I take him out and run him around as much as I can) and dealing with the many applications from hopeful adopters, calling them, calling vets, calling our Director, getting photos of them to the paper, that it left me having to wait until midnight before I could start to have some real time with them.

Cupid lets me know how she feels about me.

Cupid is laid back and sweet. The first days she was here, she spent a great deal of time, pressed up in the corner of the big dog crate I use when I need to separate cats from each other. She looked depressed. The many weeks of life in a cage had probably taught her that life was meant to be spent sitting in one spot, all day, up against metal bars. I thought she might not be friendly, but that was not the case.

Cupid has slowly been allowing herself to rest on the bed, that has a big fluffy down comforter on it. I found her sitting on the cat condo by the window this afternoon. She seems content, but also fragile. It's tough to get her to eat, but once she starts she's all right. She's battling the same damn URI the other cats have and maybe her sense of smell is off. I worried about mastitis, but she seems fine when I checked her mammary glands. She's painfully thin, but even after a few days her coat has improved a lot. I think that one day she will really be a serious beauty, once she gets her health back.

If I could have rested in that moment, I would have been fine, but I had to talk to our Director about where Comet and Rudy were going to be living. Our Director was "done" with fostering and would only help in an emergency. I did NOT want either of the cats in my house. They were still quite sick and I didn't want MY cats to get sick or Cupid and her family to get sick! Sniffles are one thing, but raging high fever and bad congestion is a big problem.

I've got two rooms I can use. That's it. I have my big foster room for mama and the babies-done deal. I have a bathroom with a tiny laundry room attached-which is space two. I don't want ANY cats in that space. It's a nightmare to do laundry while there are cats in the room, plus it's too much work. It takes me about an hour per feeding to get everyone fed, fresh water, cleaned litter. If it's just one room plus my own guys, that's one thing, but an extra room of cats-not good.

I've got Dasher in room two. He can't be put back with Rudy and Comet. Dash is doing fairly well. He's eating great, running around, sneezing, but that's it. If I put those other sick cats in with him, I can't adopt him out on Wednesday.

I give Dash a break as often as I can, to get out of the tiny bathroom and run around in the bedroom. He's a joy to have around.

So I can't take them, the Director won't, I can't ask Jennifer because she has geriatric cats and it's too much to ask her to take on sick animals. I can't ask Rick, another foster, because he has six cats of his own. I had our Director ask our Vet to do a medical boarding of the cats until after Christmas-just to give me breathing room and maybe the cats would be healthy enough to not be such a high risk of getting my cats sick. They said, No. I called Dr. Larry and talked to Super Deb. It was weird that she answered the phone on a Monday (she doesn't usually work on Monday's), but I was grateful to talk to her. By the time I called her, I was in tears. I had tried to figure out how to deal with these sick cats. It wasn't my fault they were so sick, but it was on me to care for them. Thankfully, Super Deb said; YES, but it would COST. I felt at that point, there is no price I wouldn't pay for sanity. I honestly felt like I was about to crack from stress.

Now all I had to do was get Rudy to the Vet for a checkup. Pick up Comet from the same Vet, then drive over to Dr. Larry's office and have them both examined, then they would be boarded, but only for a few days. On Christmas eve they have to be picked up. Not ideal, but better than nothing. If I play my cards right, I can get Dash out of here (adopted) and slot the sick cats into my bathroom. Also, the sick ones would have 4 more days of meds-which would put them at just a week's worth. That might be enough to get them to a point where they are doing better.

Just as I was about to walk out the door to meet our Director to pick up Rudy and get him to the Vet for a re-check, I got a call. It was from Julia, Vixen's adopter. Vixen was sick. She broke with the URI and Julia wanted my advice. When she said: “Didn't get up this morning..not eating...vomiting” I urged her to get the kitten to the Vet-already done. She was going in shortly. Holy shit...that's four cats with this nasty URI. Of course I had warned Julia that this might happen and Julia is a great person-totally understanding. She doesn't have other cats so it was safe for her to bring Vixen home, but now that she was home, she was in trouble. I felt guilty and responsible. I have never and would never knowingly adopt out an animal that was sick. I was mortified. No wonder...a few hours later I found out that Vixen had close to a 106°F temp and had a SERIOUS EAR MITE INFECTION on top of that.

Ear mites are not that big of a deal, but in this case it was the straw the broke the camels back. NONE of these cats should have ear mites!!!!!Supposedly they were ALL checked by a VET before they left GA. Something wrong is going on. I don't know what it is, but I did ask Barb to find out. This is why we do the fundraiser-so we can afford to get the cats vetted before they come here. Transports don't cause ear mites-at least not this bad. And that, I found out later, was not even the half of it...

I got Rudy to the Vet. He looked marginally better. No weight change. No temp. Ate for us. Still very snotty and a bit teary. Had blood in his nasal discharge. They added one more med to his bag of tricks and said they wanted to check him in a week to ten days. “When can we get him to his new home???”...two weeks?? Yes. About that...we have to see how he's doing. Great. Now I may lose the adopters we have for Rudy and Comet, since Comet is only marginally better herself.

Comet was released with lots of meds. Her eyes look much better, but she is very snotty. She also was pooping out tapeworms. Nice!!! Were any of these cats really de-wormed or was it a lie? No problem I will deworm everyone again to make sure...again...what is going on here?

Now that the better part of the day was behind me, I had yet to get the cats over to see Dr. Larry. Actually, they saw Dr M. since Dr. Larry is off on Monday's. I loaded the cats into the car and drove through rush hour traffic just getting to his office on time. I dreaded going there partly because I knew I was going to see Julia and I was scared to find out if Vixen had taken a turn for the worse.

Super Deb looked over Rudy and re-checked his vital signs. Rudy was a playful little imp. Nothing seemed to bother him much. Deb stepped out of the room and I sat down, holding Rudy in my crossed arms. Rudy laid across my chest, like a baby. Deb opened the door and as she did, Rudy suddenly grabbed at my right boob and nipped my nipple-as though he was going to nurse off me!!! Debbie stopped frozen in her tracks, then stepped back out of the room, shouting “I didn't see that!” I had good laugh, but man was that FREAKY!!!!!! No pix. Sorry everyone!

Then Comet was checked out. She is really really thin and dehydrated, still. She had a fever, but that could be brought on by being in the car or her being due for another antibiotic OR she is running a fever. Regardless, she was going to be cared for by good people who have the skills to make sure she stays in better shape for a few more days. Then, she will be my problem, but for now I had a break...

...until Dr. M came into the room and ripped me a new asshole.

It wasn't enough that I was feeling horrible about so many cats being sick. That it was my fault that I subjected them to this awful transport and that they are too young to handle it. Well, some of the cats that are sick are 6 and 8 MONTHS old. The kittens are doing marginally better (other than Rudy). This also seems to be a great opportunity for people to give me shit about doing transports at all. You know...let me tell you this: the deal is done. I did the transport. The animals got sick for one reason or 100 reasons. Some are shitting worms. Some have ear mites and flea dirt. Let's get them well and not use this as a platform to make whatever point you want to make. Apparently, Dr. M did not get the memo because she launched into me about how the Practice is too small and that they don't have adequate quarantine facilities and if I wanted to get into a viral quarantine, well that would REALLy start to cost big bucks. That she couldn't completely decontaminate herself so it put the other patients at risk and if this was her Practice she would have not allowed these cats to be boarded at all. Then she told me about North Shore Animal League washing their hands of an adoption they did a few days before and that the puppy that was adopted was near death...then here's Vixen's adopters whose cat could also die from a high fever and how would I feel if my adopters had to face the DEATH of their cat just after adopting it? Hey...they KNEW the risks. I was very clear that Vix had been exposed to a nasty URI. That she got sick was bad, terrible, awful, rotten, BUT...why am I getting ripped on about this?

I seriously felt like I needed to just take the cats home. I started to imagine seeing Bob Dole and Spencer, dead. Neither of them could handle getting this f-ing virus-espeically Bob. I started to imagine that this rescue may be the worst thing I have ever done-with the best intentions I have ever had.

We've had many good runs. Many good transports with very happy outcomes. Now we are having a big problem and I'm basically on my own. I am very thankful I didn't get 12 cats instead of 9. I really would have been in trouble if that was the case.

I did my best to explain that we've learned that we cannot spay or neuter the cats before they leave GA. It's too much stress on them to do that, then transport them. Her reply was “Ya, THINK??!!!”...in a way, almost mocking, and certainly belittling me. I felt like I was an inch tall.

I left the exam room while Rudy and Comet were set up in their new home. I heard Julia's voice as I turned the corner. She saw me and I gave her a weak smile. I sat next to her and was ready to get laid into, but she was very nice. She wanted to know if Vixen's fever was like the others. She wanted me to help her feel better about all this. I didn't want to say that Vixen could die, so I didn't. I did tell her that the other cats had high fevers that broke within 24 hours-which was true. She was scared to take Vix back home since she still had the high fever and I told her she could call me any time, day or night and that I would help with the cat. It's the least I can do. No adopter should have the first days with their new cat be mired in fear and have to cough up a HUGE Vet bill on top of that, but she was graceful about it and understanding. It was a big kindness to me after such a bad day.

Just as I pulled into my driveway, our Director call to see how I was doing. I got choked up, but didn't cry. She was really kind to me about all that's going on. She has been there-and lost many kittens over the years. We had a good talk and we decided we need to shut this down for now. Instead of moving ahead to get Cupid and her kittens spayed or neutered, we are going to cancel all Vet appointments for the next two weeks. That will give them time to fight off this URI. If they are symptom free, we will go back to getting them vetted, then put them up for adoption. We fear any stress will be bad for them. I can't even move Mama and the babies out of here to get away from Rudy and Comet when they arrive on Thursday. The move could make them sick.

So I'm stuck. I've got more foster cats than I bargained for and they'll be here for far longer than I hoped. I may lose the adopters I have lined up, but so be it. I honestly don't mind having the kittens here, but I'm fearful of what's to come. Will Rudy and Comet be the tipping point to send a wave of illness through my own cats? Will they survive it? Will the kittens get seriously ill? Will they live through this?

Then there's Christmas. I didn't send out a card—first time in a gillion years. I didn't wrap a gift-I hardly even bought any. I only got Sam two little presents and I feel awful about it, even though he tells me not to worry!!! I have the house decorated, at least, but the place is a mess. I'm trying to just take a deep breath, but I so want to have a good Christmas, for once, but at this point, I'd be thrilled with a Christmas where my cats don't get sick and a New Year that brings new homes to my fosters.

Will I do this again? Will I rescue more cats?

What do you think?

I got in the car, my stomach started to CHURN. I thought it was just because I was psyched to finally pick up the GA rescue kitties, but then I realized...oh no...food poisoning!!!

We made it to a nearby gas station where I had a really QUICK visit to the bathroom. I could barely “contain myself”-literally. Great. That fine lunch Sam and I had at Swanky Franks gave me the trots. How am I gonna get to Brewster to pick the cats up? It's a 40 minute drive?

I guess it's a blessing that I have a tender tummy most of the time, so I carry Immodium on me. Good thing. Sam was sick, too. We both sat in the parking lot at the Mobil station swilling bubbly water and stuffing tiny green pills into our mouth. Nice way to start a heartwarming story about cat rescue, right?

Plugged up and guts rumbling, Sam punched the throttle and off we went. In the blink of an eye we were at the parking lot of Home Depot and there sat the transport van. My heart was racing, thankfully, nothing else in my body was making an waves. I smiled over to Dick, the driver, and we jumped out of our vehicles to say hello. There were a few dogs running around on the grass enjoying freezing to death! Geez, it was COLD!

Dick ushered me into the van an apologized for it being messy. It was like being inside someone's closet-someone who has lots of puppies in cages in their closet. There was a great deal of barking and rustling around. Dick's wife Diane, loaded up the crates and handed them out to me one by one.

First, was Mama-Cupid and her 4 kittens. I took a quick peek at them and was floored. WOW they are PRETTY KITTIES!

I raced over to the car and loaded them inside. Sam had the heat blasting-good thing. I got the next carrier-SNEEZING hit me in the face. Comet was SICK. SHIT!

Next was Rudy and Dasher-who I had never even seen! He is a cutie with white and tabby and something weird markings. I gotta get a photo of it. Then lastly, was Vixen. I didn't get a look at her, other than saw her gray furred paw reach out to tap me “hello” as I put her crate into the car.

The entire drive home was mostly silent save for one kitten meowing occasionally. Once we got home, I knew it would be crazy-time, but I was ready.

What I was not ready was to see the condition of Comet and Rudy-they are VERY SICK. Rudy can barely breathe. Comet has a nasty eye infection. This could not have popped up during the 24 hr transport, could it? No way. A sniffle-sure, but a full blown take-me-to-the-ER URI? No.

I'm not a happy camper right now. I wanted to enjoy tonight and watch the cats explore life OUTSIDE a cage and good food-they were ALL starving and drank a TON of water!!! What gives??? They should have had access to BOTH on the transport. Now I am hoping that Rudy makes it through the night and that MY cats don't get sick, too.

In the morning I will get Rudy, Dasher and Comet to the Vet. My Director offered to take the sick cats from me, bless her heart. I could really hug her right now. I just do not have the space to split up the 4 singleton kittens so that the sole not-sick one, Vixen stays not sick.

Well..we will deal and move one. Hopefully everyone will be all right soon. I'm going to sneak up and visit with Cupid and her babies who are so pretty, pouffy and cute that I may have to break my vow of not adopting foster kittens!

Here's Cupid. She's very laid back and sweet.

This is all I could get of 3 of the 4 kittens. They are all beauties and were having fun literally hoping and skipping around the room!

I knew it would be Crazy Town here...so be it. Welcome aboard!

This is my foster baby, Gingerbread.

Yesterday, she went to our Vet to be spayed.

Although a Vet and a Vet Tech in GA gave her an exam and wrote up a Health Certificate for transport, they missed something about this cute little Calico.

SHE'S A HE!

Apparently, our Vet was, to say the least, a bit surprised when he was about to perform the spay and noticed Gingerbread was a boy. The odds of tri-colored cat being a male are 1:7,000,000!!!

Looks like my dreams of winning the Lottery were a bit off target, but heck, I'll take it!