I work with our local cat rescue organization. We got a call from a group house for young Hispanic kids - all about early 20's. One of their roommates had a cat, and she had disappeared on them, abandoning the cat. The house was in my neighborhood, so I took it on. I get there, and they show me the room that the cat was in. The cat was huge, white, fluffy, and pissed off! There was already a carrier in the room, so we tried to get him into it rather than mine - which was way too small. Kitty scratched me a couple of times, then retreated to the closet. So, I put the carrier by the closet with some food inside, and told them that I'd be back with help. I called the lady that's in charge of trapping for help. My husband and I met her at the house that evening. Kitty was in the cage. So, we took him out of the house. We took him down to a lady in Upper Marlboro who assesses cats to see if they're feral or not. I figured that he was someone's cat, but the trapping person wasn't so sure. I dubbed the cat "King" because he was so fucking huge.
Anyway, a few days later, the rescue organization gets a call from a guy asking if they've seen a big floofy white cat. It fit the description of the one we'd trapped. His ex-wife stole the cat from him, was living in this group house, and disappeared. We told him where to pick the cat up at the Upper Marlboro house. He gets down there, and the cat turns into a big old marshmallow around him!
BTW, the cat's real name? Elvis!
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