I wish to hear no more guff about my Dog I named Kitty.
Fred REALLY does have a cat named "Storm Drain".
I called her Sewer Pipe once.... that did NOT go over well. I still have the scars from those claws...
[b]He can tell you the story of how she got her moniker.
One August weekend, about 5 years ago...
When we came home from dinner on Friday evening we heard a cat crying as soon as we stepped out of the car. By the way it sounded, we knew it was a kitten, not an adult. It was loud and we traced it to down inside the storm drain in front of the house. (Part of the reason for the loudness was that the drain echoed.) I opened the manhole cover and went down into the vault. The kitten ran down the pipe that connects to the drain across the street. Our drain is the beginning of the line at the highest point of the street. From here it goes west down Wightman Street, then crosses under Wightman to the South side of the street, and continues west down Wightman. I came back up and looked up Animal Control in the phone book. They were closed and wouldn't be open again till noon Saturday. We came inside and figured the cat went down the street.
The next day it was back, crying. We called Animal Control who said they usually don't bother with cats. However they dispatched an officer when he said he was available. By the time he arrived, I had 3 manhole covers opened at our intersection. The kitten was in the pipe across the street that runs under Wightman Street. We had put our "Pet Taxi" animal carrier down the manhole in the vault across 36th Street; the Animal Control Officer held it up to the pipe that went across Wightman. Robert and I went down the manhole across Wightman to that vault and we each shined a flashlight towards each other up & down the same pipe. We could see the kitten sitting in the middle of the pipe. Robert put long sleeve shirt and old jeans on and put on socks over his hands like gloves. He shinnied up the pipe toward the kitten who ran toward the Animal control Officer into the animal carrier. The animal control officer asked if we were going to keep the kitten since we did all the work and used our carrier. (He said that he was claustrophobic and was glad to get out of the vault.) I said yes, at least over the weekend.
The first thing Robert did was take the kitten directly into the shower and shampooed himself and the kitten with flea shampoo, washing what looked like 100 or more fleas off. Then I showered and we then took the dried off kitten out to the patio and I sat there and picked at least 25 more dead fleas off its body. I cuddled it to keep it warm and calm it because it was shivering so much. I washed and dried the animal carrier and Robert found a cardboard box to make a litter pan out of. The carrier is huge for the kitten because we got it to take Freckles, my 20 pound, and 15 year old male cat to the vet in. Speaking of Freckles, he hisses and yowls at the kitten, so we figured that we'd keep the kitten in the "pet Taxi" for it's own safety.
Over the weekend, the kitten has eaten canned cat food and used the litter pan without coaxing. We have replaced the cardboard box with a plastic pan that fits in the back 1/3 of the "Pet Taxi" leaving plenty of room for a folded towel for a bed in front. She has calico markings with white legs and orange thighs but is mostly dark on her body and head with a lopsided white patch on her nose running down her right cheek. Picture a Brightly colored calico that has been rolling around in the fireplace ashes, that's what she looks like. Her coat is soft and healthy looking and she doesn't seem injured at all. She has a good appetite. The only name I can think of is "Stormy" because we rescued her out of the storm drain and because her markings look like a dark cloud
covering a bright sunny day. I wasn't planning to get another cat, but I think we'll wind up keeping her. <sigh>