This is Boo Boo before he dashed outside and met up with - well, we're not sure just what!

Frankenstein Cat

I had no intention of adopting this cat. Someone had dumped him in the Presbyterian Church parking lot, where I saw him for a number of weeks darting under cars early in the morning. Not sure if the local animal control officers tried to catch him or not but he was young and fast so not a surprise if they tried and were not successful.

One morning as I was leaving the parking lot, I realized I was the last car parked so I opened the driver's side door to see if I had a cat under my car. Next thing I knew, he had climbed into my car and was sitting on the passenger seat, purring up a storm and so happy to have someone petting him.

After a quick vet visit where he got his shots and a check-up, Bartholomew went home with me until I could find him a permanent home. I have lost count of the hundreds of cats that have gone through my house over the years as fosters but there comes a point where one is emotionally exhausted from the constant goodbyes.

So Boo Boo Bartholomew Trouble - he earned all of those names - is now a permanent fixture in my house. He still likes to go outside for short walks in the garden with me, checking the flower beds and running back to me in between for some head pats. This particular warm night end of summer, he dashed out the garage door as I was taking out the garbage.

I called for several minutes but he didn't come back inside. Every hour or so I would wake up, go outside and walk around my garden calling him. By morning, I thought he was either run over or lost so I made another garden tour calling him. I found him under a bench on the back side of the house, his fur on his scruff missing and one quarter-size area on his right side with fur missing. He was not himself, growling and hiding once I put him back inside.

The next day, I had to leave him at the vet for what I thought would be a couple of stitches for the small open spot on his side. The vet guessed Boo Boo must have walked into a raccoon, possum or armadillo that attacked him, there were claw marks on the missing fur spot.

When I picked him up the next day, I was startled to find he had stitches down half his side. The vet assistant said once they shaved him, they found several other spots that needed stitching so they cut them out and stitched all of them up in one straight line - Frankenstein cat, as one of my neighbors now calls him.