Cinderella eats raw liver

Just got home from work, a moonlighting job, which happens very rarely. I was thrilled to see that the little feral had eaten the raw chicken liver I left in the kitchen for her. It's the first time that I know of that she has eaten in the kitchen; I always put her food at the end of the couch because that's where she lives, behind it. And Bella eats in the kitchen. I'm sure she thinks it's her place.

Bella is better. The vet's office called while I was at my other job to say I could pick her up, but it will have to wait till tomorrow. Glad to hear she is better, and wondering what it will take to keep her healthy. Bella would never in a million years have eaten raw liver.

I was glad to see the little cat did, because it tells me she has her instinct for raw food. I could also see that she had dragged it off the saucer, by the bloody marks on the floor (which I promptly cleaned). I hope this means the sores in her mouth have healed somewhat, and I also feel more optimistic that she could live outdoors, if she had to.

I have not yet told you what I named the cat. When I took her to the vet, they asked me her name, and if I wanted to list her as "stray." No, she was now living with me, so she's no longer a stray. I called her Cinderella, because of her dark color and because of her deprived early life. I pictured the irresistible ad I would write seeking a new home -- Cinderella is waiting for her prince, or something.

She doesn't seem so much like a Cinderella now; she seems more like a Spooky or Dark Shadow. She darts around like a rat, if I may say such an awful thing. Often I see only her tail disappearing into the crack between two sections of couch.

I wish I'd started writing this log earlier. Cinderella has been with me since Sept. 13, about two and a half weeks. There is so much to catch up on, like her visit to the vet. The vet found her negative for FIV and leukemia, excellent news, but when he examined her, he told me her mouth was very badly injured, from ingesting a toxic substance, like antifreeze. Feed her soft food, he said, and we'll see. Cats are resilient, they have nine lives, and "if she heals, she heals."

He had to sedate her in order to examine her and take the blood to test. He thanked me for telling him in advance that she was wild. Some people don't bother, so when the vet or assistant opens the carrier, the animal pops out and literally climbs the walls. He also gave me the "You can't save them all" speech and suggested that I take her for a ride into the country and let her out near a nice looking farm. After being spayed, of course. I am tempted, but it's getting cold now, and how would I know what had happened to her? I have more than $200 invested in this cat, as well as my own desire to see if I can tame her.

The vet was concerned about her, and asked me to call him two days later, which I did. "Is she eating?" was his first and really only question. Yes, she was, and she has been a good eater the whole time.