Dear Goddess Freya,
I hope you can help me with a problem here in my neighborhood. It's getting very cold out there, and so time is of the essence.
I'm sure You know our local tomcat, who I have affectionately named "Gussie." Gus announces his presence with a spray of scent and a "hello" that sounds almost human. He makes his rounds in an orderly manner, and most times I just greet him and go about my day.
But on the night it snowed, I could have sworn I heard him say "hello" most pathetically at 4:30 a.m. I got up and looked outside ... no footprints. But it got me thinking, "What does Gus do on these cold nights?"
Well, Goddess, You know that better than I do. You also must know the identity of whoever is feeding Gus to plumpness. Because he just isn't your typical feral tomcat by any means. He's fat and friendly.
Freya, Gus has sustained a very bad injury. He has a laceration on his neck, two inches square. The PETCO cat lady says she'll keep him in her basement and give him antibiotics if I can trap him. But he's too plump to be enticed into the trap by Fancy Feast and catnip. He even let me pick him up and hold him, but he balked big time when I tried to put him in the cat carrier.
Dear Freya, someone is caring for this cat, but not caring enough. Please send Gus back to my house, so I can get him into a warm shelter and get him the antibiotic he needs for his cheek. It's cold as the upper reaches of Norway out there tonight. Gus could fend for himself, if not for that injury. But it's a bad, bad scrape.
Yes, Freya, I know that I'm bigger than a cat and that I should be able to shove one into a carrier. But these big males, they can do some mighty fancy squirming. So please help me out on this. Give Spare and me another chance to collar this kitty and get him the help he needs.
Affectionately Your servant,