Ruby Red

For those of you who know me (it doesn't have to be well), know that I'm a head-over-heels dog lady. But Rocco and Callie aren't the only two fur balls living under our roof. I realized that I've published around five posts about/including my two mutts' precious mugs, and even one about the bunny, Durdy. But I've never mentioned our sassy orange tabby cat. So, I think I'll start today. Here it goes...

Name: Ruby

Age: 2 years

Background: She was found in a barn on the farm as a teeny, tiny kitten... her eyes were barely open (insanely adorable). We had just lost our first kitty, Nittany, so Chris and I decided to take her in, and make her a part of our family.

Baby Ru and Callie

Raising little Ruby was hard work for the first few weeks. She was constantly on my mind. I got up every couple of hours at night to bottle feed her, drove home during my lunch breaks to check on her, and even helped her 'go potty' (don't ask, it's gross). She was my baby. So at the time, my thought was, "she is going to grow up to be a wonderful, sweet, lovable, grateful-for-saving-her-life, lazy house cat". Well, turns out, she's not really any of those things, at all.

Ruby is mischievous, unsocial and borderline ferocious. She hisses at house guests and would rather roam the cornfields alone than sit in a lap to cuddle. She's pretty much fit for a straight jacket, especially at the vet's office. So much so that she has a 'beware/dangerous animal/handle with caution/potential bloodbath/save yourself' label tagged to her file.

Speaking of the vet, I took her in for shots last Friday, and she was indeed out for blood. Which is nothing new, but this time I wasn't even allowed to be in the room while they examined her. Well, I say examined, but they can't even do that. They have to take the top off of her crate, violently pin her down, and just give her the shot. That's it.

That's what we pay $56 a visit for. Then again, maybe that's a good deal- I'm pretty sure there should be a special 'handling fee' too. Hmm.

Anyway, as Ruby and I anxiously waited in the exam room, I could hear the vet technicians behind the back door plotting their elaborate strategy to vaccinate my devilish feline. I listened to about 25 minutes of this until the doctor finally walked into the room. And as soon as she put her hands near the crate, Ruby began to claw, sass and hiss. She even directed some of it towards me. Yikes!

And so, I was then summoned to the hallway- pretty ridiculous and embarrassing. As I stood outside the door, like an idiot, I watched a pair of friendly, crated cats go by, and an obedient dog step gently onto the scale to be weighed. Their owners seemed so proud. I felt envious for a second. But then, I smiled.

The chaos of my cat's hell raising overcame the peace and silence throughout the building. It was scary, and laughable at the same time. There were vicious growling, hissing, snarling, screeching, scratching and banging noises coming from behind the door. It sounded like something out of one of those crazy animal hoarding shows where all of the cats are untamed, and viciously attack the rescuers attempting to save them.

While I did feel sorry for the poor two souls in there dealing with her, that's MY little hell raiser, and I love her no matter how much she hates the vet. 

Some people might wonder why we'd keep such a feisty creature in our home, but if we didn't, who else would? Yes, she's got big attitude, but Ruby does have an affectionate side too. Although, she only ever shows it to the members of our immediate household... and she definitely only expresses her love behind the privacy of closed doors. Just not the ones at the vet's office. :)