A little backstory on why I started Entitled Cat Boston, a luxury catsitting care service:
I have been a cat enthusiast forever. My parents wouldn’t let me own a cat until I was in middle school, so until then I had to content myself with befriending the neighborhood barn cats in my small New Hampshire town.
My first cat, Zelly, was an orange tabby cat who was nervous around people–I adored her. One Halloween, she was frightened by the commotion of trick-or-treaters, ran into the street (normally she stayed away from roads), and was accidentally hit by a car, crushing her hips. She dragged herself to our front door, mewing piteously. My father found her and brought her to the vet, who told him there was no surgery that could be performed on Zelly, but to bring her home and hope she could successfully heal herself. My father put her comfortably in the living room with a tray of kitty litter, but she dragged herself down the end of the hall and crawled under my bed. She refused to leave the safety of my room, so her litter was moved to under my bed. I spent many hours with her, petting her and telling her she would get better. In a short period of time, she fully recovered, with only an odd gait betraying her past injury. She went on to live a full and happy life.
As an adult, I volunteered for the Animal Rescue League of Boston’s kitten fostering program. I brought up many underfed, abandoned kittens that grew into healthy, romping cats. I handled and played with them as much as possible so they would be unafraid of humans. I still keep in touch with the proud adoptive parents of my fosters. I am also certified by the American Red Cross for pet first aid.
I have also been a free-agent cat rescuer. In September 2014, I found a tuxedo kitten about to walk into traffic in downtown Boston. I called to her before she stepped off the curb–she ran to me and meowed like she had been looking all over for me. I scooped her up, got her on the bus (bus driver, bless her, did not force me to take out my T pass), rode to my cross street, and carried her 5 blocks to my home . She mewed and scrambled a bit, but mostly stayed uncomplainingly in my arms. It was the moment of truth when I got to the my house–when I put her down to get out my keys, would she bolt? I put her down–she rubbed against my legs. She ran into the ahead of me as soon as I opened the door. I sprinted to the bodega (difficult task, because this kitten DID NOT want me to leave) and got canned catfood. She wolfed it down, then jumped in my lap, licked me gratefully, and fell asleep. After contacting City of Boston Animal Control to file a missing cat report (no young female black-and-white cats reported missing) and checking for a microchip (not chipped), a friend adopted her and named her Riot. I’m happy to say Riot is now and continues to be spoiled rotten by her adoptive parent.
Entitled Cat Boston–cats are our life.