In May of 2015 we stopped by the local cat shelter to donate a couple bags of food. The shelter is in an old house. The offices are upstairs and the cat rooms are on the first floor. 

We had dropped off the food at the counter and were chatting with one of the volunteers that runs the operation. As we talked, a little gray ball of fuzz quietly crept between my legs and sat on my foot. “Who is this,” I asked as I picked it up. She was thin and dusty. Not the most picturesque cat in the shelter.

“She just came in,” the volunteer said. “She hasn’t even been checked by the vet yet.” 

I held her as we talked. She was quiet and calm, purring like a little motorboat. When we were ready to leave, I asked, “You want to go home with us?” The volunteer said, “She can’t go home until she has been checked and given her shots. That won’t be until next Monday.” 

I understand rules and regulations. I was sure there was some guideline that said an unvaccinated cat can not be sent home. “If I make an appointment with our vet right now, can we pick her up in the morning and take her over there? We will bring back the paperwork on my way home.” The arrangements were made and the next morning we were off to the vet.

As it turned out, our intervention was a blessing. We knew that the local vet gave the feline leukemia vaccines out of course. As we learned from our vet, who did the virus test first, giving the vaccine to a cat with the virus will almost certainly result in a full-blown case of FIV. The test showed a weak positive. We were instructed to keep the kitten isolated as best we could to avoid any transmission to our other cats. We would have her re-tested in six months. With some effort, we accomplished that task, and at the end of the six months she had a clean bill of health. 

It has been eight years, and Charlotte is still a cute, gray ball of fuzz. Her first six months of special treatment has made her a little bit of a prima donna, but that’s okay.