Marty- The Lost Persian Cat
by Margaret Schill
On the night of October 16, 2003, I was in my back yard trying to befriend a stray tom cat (Neil, who happily did get befriended and adopted out two months later). He left the yard, and I soon heard a cat scream in the nearby church parking lot. Thinking that Neil got hurt, I ran over and saw him chasing a little white cat. I followed, and came upon Marty, cowering in fear pressed up against a fence, his eyes wide opened in alarm, with Neil sitting several feet away. Marty was obviously no wild street cat, seeming to be a Persian and being so docile, so I simply picked him up and carried him home. He didn't even struggle, but rather snuggled.
Marty's endearing, gentle, baby-like personality was evident in minutes. Also evident, was that he was not in the greatest shape, and likely had been on the streets a while, not dealing with it very successfully. He had ear mites, fleas, and was bony under all his fur (weighing a mere 6.5 pounds).
His fur had also been cut, as if by a groomer, which was a big tipoff that he had recently been someone's pet, aside from the fact that Persian cats aren't found wild on the streets.
It wasn’t just being scared, starving and dirty that had him looking poorly. It turned out that he had a severe urinary tract infection, which caused so much swelling that he became blocked, only dripping blood. He had to stay overnight at the vets for testing and treatment. He would have died in a few days if I hadn't found him and gotten him to the vet.
Meanwhile, I plastered the neighborhood with “Found Cat” signs. A man called, described Marty to the point that it clearly was his cat, but when he found out Marty was at the vets with an estimated $250 bill, he said he would “have to talk to his wife and get back to us.” He was never heard from again, abandoning Marty. He never even said what he named Marty, so we gave him his new name for his new life.
But, the man did give some info. He said he got Marty from someone in Ohio,and that Marty was about a year old (which the vet agreed with). He said Marty never got so matted with us that he needed his fur cut.) The man said Marty and another of their cats “disappeared” two weeks prior, that he and his wife “walked around” looking for them, but didn’t find the cats. We had seen a new cat on our porch fitting the description of Marty’s “brother”, plus it turns out thatthe man only lives a few blocks away, so he didn’t look very hard for his cats. Nor had he put up any “Lost Cats” signs. I suppose he wasn’t all that keen on finding them.
Replies from e-mails I sent to breeders of Persians cats in an attempt to locate where Marty might belong revealed that he is a Shaded Silver, doll face Persian. He even has the characteristic green eyes with "mascara" linings (breeder lingo for black rimmed eyes) as well as the "mascara" on the nose, and the black paw pads, which are hallmarks of Shaded Silvers. From his pictures, and from two vet’s opinions, he is a pure bred. But, of course, he wasn’t carrying any papers with him.
Once Marty recovered from his infection, and had good food and TLC, he looked better and better as time went by. It took a few months for him to be able to urinate freely, instead of in frequent, small amounts. His fur took several months to grow in as well. But even after about two months, he started looking a lot better, and became more energetic. He would have his "zoomies", racing back and forth through the house.
He is a cat-social cat. He tried to make friends with our six other cats, but they weren’t all that keen on the matter, except Franny, the one closest to his age. Franny bonded with him quickly and became his playmate and “hang around” buddy. One of our cats, Simon, seemed to like Marty at times, and Marty rubbed on Simon a lot, but that was probably more to try to curry favor with Simon. Simon frequently dashed after Marty, scaring him so that he would run and hide under the bed.
So, Marty began perfecting his "skid turns" on the kitchen floor to help him be able to race away from Simon, without getting cornered in the kitchen as had happened on a few occasions. And perfect it he did. He seemed to delight in his new found skill and practiced it a lot.
Figuring out how to use the cat flap to our enclosed porches took Marty a very long time- a couple of months. He isn't the smartest cat in the world. But he sure is one of the dearest cats ever. That opinion isn't shared by our cat Minerva, though. Marty would run up to her, which got her upset. He was initially seeming to try to play, but later on it seemed as if he was doing to her what Simon did to him.
Sadly, we rehomed Marty, along with his pal Franny. We needed to take in two other cats, and since a very responsible animal loving person known to us expressed a desire to have cats just at the time the two new cats were to be arriving, it was best all around for Marty and his friend Franny to move on. Marty can be the top cat now in his own "catdom" and not worry about a bigger, tougher cat chasing him and a different cat hissing at him whenever he comes near her. He can just be gentle, playful "fluffy, smooshy Marty" now. But I miss his endearing cute little self very much.