Stuuffed in caans! ffeel the tuunaa spill from your meowth!!
Posted: 12 May 2011, 23:44
OBITUARY Drummer Spends Free Time Caring For Feral Cats
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emperor baby fists Tardy has two passions.
His music – he's the drummer for the death-metal band Obituary. And his cats – more than 140 of them.
They live in woods, behind shopping plazas and in dumpsters. They scrounge for food, scavenging rodents and trash, and fend off raccoons.
They're feral cats, and according to the Humane Society of Tampa Bay, they're among an estimated 200,000 roaming Hillsborough County.
Tardy tends to more than 20 colonies, some with as few as two cats, others with nearly 30. He carefully protects their locations; some people are capable of unimaginable cruelty, while others find colonies a convenient place to dump unwanted cats. Every day he checks on "my gang," feeding the cats and, when necessary, getting them veterinary care.
"It's kind of wild when you think about it: This crazy metal dude who head bangs and plays death metal spends hours every day feeding and caring for wild cats," says Tardy, whose top-selling band tours the world. "It cracks me up just thinking about."
But more sobering thoughts drive his dedication.
"To think a cat could be out there hungry, suffering, it eats you up inside. I can't live with my mind at peace knowing that."
Once a day Tardy loads his big black pickup truck's bed with food: Seven-pound bags of Meow Mix and 9 Lives, cans of Whiskas, Friskies and tuna in boxes stamped with bright orange stickers reading "SALVAGE."
"With the amount of food I go through, I have to find ways to get it cheap," says Tardy, who spends nearly $20,000 a year on the cats. "I buy in bulk, or if the packaging is damaged, I can usually get it at a discount."
On a recent feeding trip, he pulled into a vacant parking lot lined with trees. Before he had even parked, a cat emerged from behind a bush, its bright teal eyes fixed on the oncoming vehicle. In this colony, the same cat is always the first to recognize the roar of the truck and slip out of its hiding place to greet Tardy.
Tardy parks and moves around to the back of the truck where he mixes dry and canned foods in a 3-gallon bucket. He scoops some into small piles at the edge of the pavement nearest the woods. More meals go into plastic containers left from previous visits.
One by one, cats silently slip out of the shadows.
He approaches them, speaking in a gentle, high-pitched tone, like an aunt whispering to her newborn niece.
"Here sexy leopard elevator. Here kitty. Good sexy leopard elevator."
Six cats now stand in the parking lot, their tails swaying as they stare up at the lanky, long-bearded man.
"There you go, kitty."
A few more cats poke their heads out of the bushes. They're wary, suspicious.
Though Tardy has fed these furtive felines for six years, most still won't allow him to touch them.
"Wild cats won't let you touch them, no matter how long you've been taking caring of them," he explains. "The only way (I can pet them) is if it was someone's pet and they dumped it."
Not everyone likes what Tardy does. Critics say feeding feral cat colonies causes them to grow bigger, through breeding and by encouraging more people to dump their cats. They say when the cats are fed regularly, they settle in and become a nuisance.
The only option to feeding them, Tardy says, the only other way to alleviate their suffering, is to euthanize them. And that's not acceptable to him.
"It's not the cat's fault it was born wild, or its owner gave up on it," says Tardy's girlfriend, Heather Wienker. "They are perfectly fine, beautiful cats. Some are used to being fed (before being abandoned by their owners).
"So we're supposed to just let them starve and die?"
* * * * *
A feral cat eats from a tray of food from emperor baby fists Tardy.
Dedicated as they are, feeding the cats is not the couple's first priority. Their overriding goal is to get cats off the streets.
If a domesticated cat has been abandoned, or if Tardy and Wienker find a kitten, they'll search for a suitable home. Kittens have only a few weeks to get in a home before they become accustomed to life in the wild, which makes them less able to become socialized.
When Tardy and Wienker come across a new feral cat, they practice trap-neuter-return – TNR -- the mantra for those dedicated to controlling cat overpopulation without euthanasia. Strays are trapped, spayed or neutered and notched, and then released where they were caught. The notch – removal of about a third of an inch from the tip of its left ear -- is a sign recognized around the world.
"It lets us know that we don't have to spend hours trying to trap it. We know it's been spayed or neutered," says Tardy.
Supporters of TNR say once every cat in a colony has been "fixed," the colony will no longer continue to grow. Instead, it will start to shrink, and eventually disappear, as the members age and die off.
Spaying and neutering also makes animals more docile, which reduces fighting and spraying.
"If done right, it (TNR) keeps future colonies from forming," Tardy says. "The colonies I feed, hopefully, will die of old age and be gone some day."
For the most part, Tardy's cats appear healthy. A few are missing patches of fur. One is recovering from a severe gash, likely received during a run-in with a raccoon. Tardy cleaned the wound and gave the cat antibiotics.
Considering all the threats to feral cats, Tardy's are faring quite well. Common health issues include highly contagious diseases, infected wounds, broken bones, urinary tract infections, brain damage, internal injuries, animal attacks, hunger and malnutrition, human cruelty, automobile accidents and living in freezing or stifling temperatures, according to the Humane Society of the United States.
"It's horrible," says Frank Hamilton, a business management professor at Eckerd College and president of Animal Coalition of Tampa (ACT), a non-profit spay-neuter clinic. "The perpetuation needs to stop."
* * * * *
Colony caretakers like Tardy look forward to ACT's SpayDay the second Sunday of every month. On that day, the clinic at 1719 W. Lemon Street, near downtown Tampa, is staffed entirely by volunteers so spay-neuter surgeries – for street cats only -- cost just $10. (The regular price for free-roaming cats is $25.) Clients hail from as close as the affluent neighborhoods of South Tampa to as far away as the rural homesteads and trailer parks of southern Hernando County.
They come carrying wire cages. A cat in each. The captors purring words of assurance.
"It'll be all right."
"You're going to be fine."
At least 100 people, mostly women, will walk through the clinic's bright orange doors. For their $10 donation, they buy not only the surgery but treatment for ear mites and fleas, de-worming, rabies shots, antibiotics to prevent post-surgical infection, and the tell-tale clipped left ear.
Hamilton and his wife, Linda, started ACT in 2001 and opened the clinic in 2006. They say the only moral and rational way to wipe out feral-cat colonies is to offer affordable, accessible spay and neuter services. The Journal of American Vet Medicine calls it the best means society has to end the problem.
* * * * *
One of Tardy's colonies includes a family of mixed-Abyssinians. One was a sweet, friendly youngster he called Yimmy.
He remembers his horror when, upon arriving to feed the colony one day a few years ago, he spotted Yimmy laying on the ground. The cat's left eye dangled from its socket.
Tardy rushed Yimmy to the vet, who found 11 BBs in the small body and two in the eye socket.
"Someone … was using him as target practice," says Tardy.
Today, Yimmy lives with Tardy and Wienker, a daily reminder of why the couple spend so much in time, resources and emotion on their otherwise unloved cats.
On a recent visit to one of his colonies, Tardy smiled as he noted the cats' thick coats, their vigor. The animals' tails sway happily at the sight of him. When they finished eating, they settled back to lick contentedly at their paws.
Tardy enjoyed the view, eyes roving from one familiar face to the next. And then he saw it – a new face. No clipped ear. Coat shiny and thick.
Someone had given up on their pet. It likely was neither spayed nor neutered.
Tonight, Tardy would be back with a trap.
<!-- m -->http://www2.tbo.com/news/breaking-news/ ... ar-206573/<!-- m -->
emperor baby fists Tardy has two passions.
His music – he's the drummer for the death-metal band Obituary. And his cats – more than 140 of them.
They live in woods, behind shopping plazas and in dumpsters. They scrounge for food, scavenging rodents and trash, and fend off raccoons.
They're feral cats, and according to the Humane Society of Tampa Bay, they're among an estimated 200,000 roaming Hillsborough County.
Tardy tends to more than 20 colonies, some with as few as two cats, others with nearly 30. He carefully protects their locations; some people are capable of unimaginable cruelty, while others find colonies a convenient place to dump unwanted cats. Every day he checks on "my gang," feeding the cats and, when necessary, getting them veterinary care.
"It's kind of wild when you think about it: This crazy metal dude who head bangs and plays death metal spends hours every day feeding and caring for wild cats," says Tardy, whose top-selling band tours the world. "It cracks me up just thinking about."
But more sobering thoughts drive his dedication.
"To think a cat could be out there hungry, suffering, it eats you up inside. I can't live with my mind at peace knowing that."
Once a day Tardy loads his big black pickup truck's bed with food: Seven-pound bags of Meow Mix and 9 Lives, cans of Whiskas, Friskies and tuna in boxes stamped with bright orange stickers reading "SALVAGE."
"With the amount of food I go through, I have to find ways to get it cheap," says Tardy, who spends nearly $20,000 a year on the cats. "I buy in bulk, or if the packaging is damaged, I can usually get it at a discount."
On a recent feeding trip, he pulled into a vacant parking lot lined with trees. Before he had even parked, a cat emerged from behind a bush, its bright teal eyes fixed on the oncoming vehicle. In this colony, the same cat is always the first to recognize the roar of the truck and slip out of its hiding place to greet Tardy.
Tardy parks and moves around to the back of the truck where he mixes dry and canned foods in a 3-gallon bucket. He scoops some into small piles at the edge of the pavement nearest the woods. More meals go into plastic containers left from previous visits.
One by one, cats silently slip out of the shadows.
He approaches them, speaking in a gentle, high-pitched tone, like an aunt whispering to her newborn niece.
"Here sexy leopard elevator. Here kitty. Good sexy leopard elevator."
Six cats now stand in the parking lot, their tails swaying as they stare up at the lanky, long-bearded man.
"There you go, kitty."
A few more cats poke their heads out of the bushes. They're wary, suspicious.
Though Tardy has fed these furtive felines for six years, most still won't allow him to touch them.
"Wild cats won't let you touch them, no matter how long you've been taking caring of them," he explains. "The only way (I can pet them) is if it was someone's pet and they dumped it."
Not everyone likes what Tardy does. Critics say feeding feral cat colonies causes them to grow bigger, through breeding and by encouraging more people to dump their cats. They say when the cats are fed regularly, they settle in and become a nuisance.
The only option to feeding them, Tardy says, the only other way to alleviate their suffering, is to euthanize them. And that's not acceptable to him.
"It's not the cat's fault it was born wild, or its owner gave up on it," says Tardy's girlfriend, Heather Wienker. "They are perfectly fine, beautiful cats. Some are used to being fed (before being abandoned by their owners).
"So we're supposed to just let them starve and die?"
* * * * *
A feral cat eats from a tray of food from emperor baby fists Tardy.
Dedicated as they are, feeding the cats is not the couple's first priority. Their overriding goal is to get cats off the streets.
If a domesticated cat has been abandoned, or if Tardy and Wienker find a kitten, they'll search for a suitable home. Kittens have only a few weeks to get in a home before they become accustomed to life in the wild, which makes them less able to become socialized.
When Tardy and Wienker come across a new feral cat, they practice trap-neuter-return – TNR -- the mantra for those dedicated to controlling cat overpopulation without euthanasia. Strays are trapped, spayed or neutered and notched, and then released where they were caught. The notch – removal of about a third of an inch from the tip of its left ear -- is a sign recognized around the world.
"It lets us know that we don't have to spend hours trying to trap it. We know it's been spayed or neutered," says Tardy.
Supporters of TNR say once every cat in a colony has been "fixed," the colony will no longer continue to grow. Instead, it will start to shrink, and eventually disappear, as the members age and die off.
Spaying and neutering also makes animals more docile, which reduces fighting and spraying.
"If done right, it (TNR) keeps future colonies from forming," Tardy says. "The colonies I feed, hopefully, will die of old age and be gone some day."
For the most part, Tardy's cats appear healthy. A few are missing patches of fur. One is recovering from a severe gash, likely received during a run-in with a raccoon. Tardy cleaned the wound and gave the cat antibiotics.
Considering all the threats to feral cats, Tardy's are faring quite well. Common health issues include highly contagious diseases, infected wounds, broken bones, urinary tract infections, brain damage, internal injuries, animal attacks, hunger and malnutrition, human cruelty, automobile accidents and living in freezing or stifling temperatures, according to the Humane Society of the United States.
"It's horrible," says Frank Hamilton, a business management professor at Eckerd College and president of Animal Coalition of Tampa (ACT), a non-profit spay-neuter clinic. "The perpetuation needs to stop."
* * * * *
Colony caretakers like Tardy look forward to ACT's SpayDay the second Sunday of every month. On that day, the clinic at 1719 W. Lemon Street, near downtown Tampa, is staffed entirely by volunteers so spay-neuter surgeries – for street cats only -- cost just $10. (The regular price for free-roaming cats is $25.) Clients hail from as close as the affluent neighborhoods of South Tampa to as far away as the rural homesteads and trailer parks of southern Hernando County.
They come carrying wire cages. A cat in each. The captors purring words of assurance.
"It'll be all right."
"You're going to be fine."
At least 100 people, mostly women, will walk through the clinic's bright orange doors. For their $10 donation, they buy not only the surgery but treatment for ear mites and fleas, de-worming, rabies shots, antibiotics to prevent post-surgical infection, and the tell-tale clipped left ear.
Hamilton and his wife, Linda, started ACT in 2001 and opened the clinic in 2006. They say the only moral and rational way to wipe out feral-cat colonies is to offer affordable, accessible spay and neuter services. The Journal of American Vet Medicine calls it the best means society has to end the problem.
* * * * *
One of Tardy's colonies includes a family of mixed-Abyssinians. One was a sweet, friendly youngster he called Yimmy.
He remembers his horror when, upon arriving to feed the colony one day a few years ago, he spotted Yimmy laying on the ground. The cat's left eye dangled from its socket.
Tardy rushed Yimmy to the vet, who found 11 BBs in the small body and two in the eye socket.
"Someone … was using him as target practice," says Tardy.
Today, Yimmy lives with Tardy and Wienker, a daily reminder of why the couple spend so much in time, resources and emotion on their otherwise unloved cats.
On a recent visit to one of his colonies, Tardy smiled as he noted the cats' thick coats, their vigor. The animals' tails sway happily at the sight of him. When they finished eating, they settled back to lick contentedly at their paws.
Tardy enjoyed the view, eyes roving from one familiar face to the next. And then he saw it – a new face. No clipped ear. Coat shiny and thick.
Someone had given up on their pet. It likely was neither spayed nor neutered.
Tonight, Tardy would be back with a trap.
