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| Iqaluit Humane Society |
When JJ first came up to Iqaluit 10 years ago the city had just made national headlines for having its first humane society. For having a small population of people, Iqaluit has a very large population of dogs. For years, lack of veterinary care meant it wasn't possible to spay or neuter any dogs born up here, unless you were lucky enough to nab a coveted appointment when veterinary students came up to do a weekend spay/neuter clinic a once or twice a year. This meant LOTS of dogs running the streets. JJ made a point during his month in 2007 of visiting this new animal shelter.
He came home talking about the lack of resources, the wonderful work the volunteers were doing, and how many strays were still running around the city. The Humane Society still takes in roughly 25 dogs a month (they only have room for 20), sending most of them to Ottawa where they are fostered or adopted. (A local airline--FirstAir--helps by donating free flights to these dogs.)
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| Taken from their Facebook page. |
Being an animal lover myself, I decided to check out the shelter and fill out a form to volunteer. While I was there I asked about the cats they take in. I didn't expect there would be many: unlike the dogs up here, many of whom are bred for the cold like huskies, cats don't survive long outdoors. To my surprise, there were 2 cats at the shelter that day. One was a big, confident calico. The other, the shelter worker was slightly reluctant to show me. Her chart was marked "unfriendly". It showed that she had been brought in about 6 weeks before. Location found? "Outside." The girl working there told me "She's very timid, and mostly hides in her basket. She doesn't even eat if she's being watched." I was intrigued. "Can I see her anyway?" I asked. The shelter worker's tune changed immediately. "Yes, of course!" She said. "No one ever wants to see the scared cats who hide." She brought the little cat down in her basket (hidden under a blanket). She was COVERED in dirty, matted fur. It was so matted, in fact, that it was difficult to find a place to stroke her and not worry that it might hurt. But those eyes..... I have aways been a sucker for hard-luck cases, so of course I fell in love.
I texted JJ that afternoon. "Saw this adorable little kitty today. I think she needs us." JJ, who is used to me bringing home strays by now, went back out with me that evening to meet the cat. I then went back in twice more to snuggle and get to know this little critter, to be absolutely sure she would be a good fit for our family. Each time I went she seemed more and more friendly. She never hissed at me--not once, even when I picked her up out of her basket. By the end of my second visit she was butting her head against my hand when I paused in petting her.
Two weeks after I first saw her, we brought this little lady home. We wrestled over what to call our little black beauty. Shadow? Too common. Shade? Cool, but a boy's name. Spooky? Not feminine. Spook? Racist. (I always thought a "spook" was a spy, but I was quickly corrected by multiple people.) We settled on Freya, a good Norse name that seemed to suite our climate (plus one of my favourite games, World of Warcraft, has a character named Freya).
I noticed the first day we had her at home her belly was very big, and very firm. To complicate things, the local vet has, at least temporarily, disappeared. Her staff are not sure when she will be back. Without a vet in town we were unable to get her vaccinated, tested for disease, or even have a proper physical exam done. I started looking into causes of big, hard bellies in cats and decided I might need to find some de-wormer medication online (worms are common in shelter cats). Also, a change of diet might be called for.
Can anyone guess what happened next? Really? Anyone?
We usually invite medical residents over to our home for dinner at least once during their rotation here in the north. Its a cold, lonely place when you have no family up here. The residents typically stay for 6 weeks, which is a long time to stay in a temporary apartment with strangers for roommates. About the same time Brian, the resident, was knocking on our door to join us for a home-cooked meal, Coraline came running up the hallway. "Mommy!" she shouted. "Freya is making really weird sounds! She is meowing really high pitched!" I rolled my eyes at the drama. "Really, Coraline?" I sighed, in the middle of browning pork tenderloin. I moved the pan off the burner on the stove and walked down the hall. I peeked in on the cat in her crate (where she is being separated from Mylo until she is vet-checked and they are used to each other) and saw, and heard.......a very tiny, wet, vocal black kitten.
"#**&^%", I thought.
"Um......Hi Brian! Come on in and sit down, I'll be out in a few minutes. I, uh..... just need to check to see if the cat is still having contractions."
Normally when you KNOW you have a pregnant cat you get x-rays or an ultrasound done to see how many kittens to expect. We are "surprise!" kitten parents, so we had no idea how many kittens to expect. We had to watch every hour to make sure Freya either delivered a kitten, or stopped having contractions. If she kept having contractions with no kittens appearing, that's "bad".
The shelter was fantastic. I had Chany, the person in charge of cats, on the phone with me within minutes. My first question was, why the heck wasn't Freya doing something with this kitten? It was 2 feet away from her, crying, being completely ignored while she hid in her basket. Chany stayed calm and talked me through picking up the kitten, wiping it off with a warm cloth, and presenting it to Freya to clean. Luckily, Freya figured out what to do from there. Chany then drove over (they still do house calls in the north) to check things out. She came back AGAIN three hours later to bring extra linen to put down in the crate.
In the span of 48 hours we went from having one cat (our loyal, steadfast Mylo) to having FIVE.
This is what comes of adopting a cat from a shelter in a town where the vet periodically disappears. I'm just relieved she didn't have anything sinister causing that big belly. When the kittens are old enough, the human society will take them and find appropriate adopters (kittens, unlike fully-grown cats, get adopted very quickly). In the meantime, I'm still hoping the vet returns to town so we can get everyone checked out and make sure they are healthy.
Over the course of the evening I finished cooking (dinner actually turned out OK, much to my surprise), and everyone got to eat. The kids LOVED getting to see the kittens being born, and of course are now in the process of naming them. The evening turned into a game of crib (Brian is a card shark, turns out...), and a quiet night.
Aside from the occasional "mew".
Oh, and Freya? Turns out the name comes from the Norse "Freyja", goddess of love and fertility.
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| Look at that face! |
I texted JJ that afternoon. "Saw this adorable little kitty today. I think she needs us." JJ, who is used to me bringing home strays by now, went back out with me that evening to meet the cat. I then went back in twice more to snuggle and get to know this little critter, to be absolutely sure she would be a good fit for our family. Each time I went she seemed more and more friendly. She never hissed at me--not once, even when I picked her up out of her basket. By the end of my second visit she was butting her head against my hand when I paused in petting her.
Two weeks after I first saw her, we brought this little lady home. We wrestled over what to call our little black beauty. Shadow? Too common. Shade? Cool, but a boy's name. Spooky? Not feminine. Spook? Racist. (I always thought a "spook" was a spy, but I was quickly corrected by multiple people.) We settled on Freya, a good Norse name that seemed to suite our climate (plus one of my favourite games, World of Warcraft, has a character named Freya).
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| This was the most her head lifted up from her basket. |
I noticed the first day we had her at home her belly was very big, and very firm. To complicate things, the local vet has, at least temporarily, disappeared. Her staff are not sure when she will be back. Without a vet in town we were unable to get her vaccinated, tested for disease, or even have a proper physical exam done. I started looking into causes of big, hard bellies in cats and decided I might need to find some de-wormer medication online (worms are common in shelter cats). Also, a change of diet might be called for.
Can anyone guess what happened next? Really? Anyone?
We usually invite medical residents over to our home for dinner at least once during their rotation here in the north. Its a cold, lonely place when you have no family up here. The residents typically stay for 6 weeks, which is a long time to stay in a temporary apartment with strangers for roommates. About the same time Brian, the resident, was knocking on our door to join us for a home-cooked meal, Coraline came running up the hallway. "Mommy!" she shouted. "Freya is making really weird sounds! She is meowing really high pitched!" I rolled my eyes at the drama. "Really, Coraline?" I sighed, in the middle of browning pork tenderloin. I moved the pan off the burner on the stove and walked down the hall. I peeked in on the cat in her crate (where she is being separated from Mylo until she is vet-checked and they are used to each other) and saw, and heard.......a very tiny, wet, vocal black kitten.
"#**&^%", I thought.
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| Taken 24 hours after kittens were born. |
"Um......Hi Brian! Come on in and sit down, I'll be out in a few minutes. I, uh..... just need to check to see if the cat is still having contractions."
Normally when you KNOW you have a pregnant cat you get x-rays or an ultrasound done to see how many kittens to expect. We are "surprise!" kitten parents, so we had no idea how many kittens to expect. We had to watch every hour to make sure Freya either delivered a kitten, or stopped having contractions. If she kept having contractions with no kittens appearing, that's "bad".
The shelter was fantastic. I had Chany, the person in charge of cats, on the phone with me within minutes. My first question was, why the heck wasn't Freya doing something with this kitten? It was 2 feet away from her, crying, being completely ignored while she hid in her basket. Chany stayed calm and talked me through picking up the kitten, wiping it off with a warm cloth, and presenting it to Freya to clean. Luckily, Freya figured out what to do from there. Chany then drove over (they still do house calls in the north) to check things out. She came back AGAIN three hours later to bring extra linen to put down in the crate.
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| Encouraging Freya to care for the first kitten minutes after it was born. |
In the span of 48 hours we went from having one cat (our loyal, steadfast Mylo) to having FIVE.
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| 24 hours later with the same kitten. |
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| A happy Freya kneads with her paws and purrs while cuddling her kittens. |
This is what comes of adopting a cat from a shelter in a town where the vet periodically disappears. I'm just relieved she didn't have anything sinister causing that big belly. When the kittens are old enough, the human society will take them and find appropriate adopters (kittens, unlike fully-grown cats, get adopted very quickly). In the meantime, I'm still hoping the vet returns to town so we can get everyone checked out and make sure they are healthy.
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| Bonus points if you can spot all 3 black kittens against their black mother. |
Over the course of the evening I finished cooking (dinner actually turned out OK, much to my surprise), and everyone got to eat. The kids LOVED getting to see the kittens being born, and of course are now in the process of naming them. The evening turned into a game of crib (Brian is a card shark, turns out...), and a quiet night.
Aside from the occasional "mew".
Oh, and Freya? Turns out the name comes from the Norse "Freyja", goddess of love and fertility.
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