Welcome to Carrot’s world. It is a very happy place, where the sun always shines, the birds always sing, and life is always wonderful.
As soon as you meet Carrot, you fall in love. He is one of the happiest cats on the planet, and he always has time for a hug. You can hold him like a baby, kiss his cute little face, and he just loves every minute of it.
When Carrot isn’t getting hugged, he’s playing with such abandon that you just have to stop and watch. He’s quite the goofball, often seen running up the ramps in the suites, swinging from the cat trees, and balanced upside-down with his head hanging over the edge of the ramp.
Carrot currently resides in Suite B, our largest suite at Tabby’s Place. Suite B has some, shall we say, strong personalities among the cats. While there’s not really any fighting in the suite, there is usually a lot of dominant behavior to determine who is the boss in there. It reminds me of roosters in a barnyard, circling each other, puffing themselves up to look bigger, yelling at each other. That’s the way some of the Suite B cats act, especially BooBoo, Spumoni, Figs and Sam. These big boys all have big personalities, and while they are wonderful with humans, when it comes to other cats they are the bullies on the playground.
Carrot, however, is the class clown. He pays no attention whatsoever to the bullies, and just does his own Carrot thing. The bullies will be on the floor making a fuss, and you’ll find Carrot hanging upside-down with a mouse in his mouth. Carrot has no clue about dominance, anger, or anything that isn’t fun, fun, fun. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, and he thinks life is great.
On the medical front, it’s been a busy time for Carrot since his arrival at Tabby’s Place. Carrot has been neutered, had X-rays taken, and gone through all the usual quarantine protocols for new residents. His radiographs showed that our boy has a fracture in his proximal tail. This suggests that his issues are due to an injury (perhaps a tail pull), rather than a birth defect. Whatever the cause, this means that it’s difficult to express poor Carrot’s bladder. We’ve been fine-tuning his palette of bladder relaxants.
Quite honestly, Carrot’s bladder is one of the hardest I’ve ever had to express (and I’ve cared for many incontinent cats through the years at Tabby’s Place). Not only is it difficult in itself to actually express his bladder (some bladders are easier and some are harder), but Carrot isn’t used to the feeling of having his bladder expressed yet. I’m sure it feels very strange to him. He wiggles and does something like an alligator roll while being expressed. This makes it VERY difficult to express him. One second I have his bladder in my hand, then he jumps and I drop it. I get it again, and he flails and I drop it. This goes on for several minutes, as I can only get a small amount of urine out of him before I drop his bladder and have to start all over again. Even while being expressed, though, Carrot is sweet, wiggly, and never shows any anger or aggression of any kind.
Carrot loves everyone, and everyone loves Carrot. Recently, Tabby’s Place staff member Jess brought her 4-year-old son Ben to visit, and Ben and Carrot had so much fun playing together. They played, they hugged, they kissed, and played some more.
It breaks my heart that a sweet boy like Carrot was left for dead at a high-kill shelter. I know that, with his medical issues, he is less “adoptable,” but his personality is incredible, and his zest for life is evident to all who come into contact with him. So I want to thank you for helping us to save this special boy. Without your support, we couldn’t say yes to the “incompletely continent” sweetheart who was doomed for euthanasia, and the world would be a much darker place without the light and love that is Carrot.