Sneaky Pete had a tough early life. We first saw him in the summer of 2001. He would spend hours watching us from afar, but would not let us get near him. One evening, while Tom was away, I was sitting outside enjoying night coming in. I felt a paw on my thigh and it was Sneaky Pete. I thought it was odd to go from feral to this without any steps in between. I reached down to pat him on the neck. It felt wet and my hand was covered with blood. I scooped him up and brought him in the house.
His entire neck had an abrasion as if someone had tried to hang him or drag him with a rope. He had three bleeding wounds that had pellet shot in them. Since he was not feverish and was lucid, I put him in a large crate with no water or food but comfortable bedding for the night. (No food or water in case he needed surgery in the morning. I dropped him off at my veterinarian the next morning (Meriden Animal Hospital) and said that if he was salvageable once they could see all the wounds to go ahead and do surgery.
He spent two months with us, happy as a clam. We kept finding him in the house, even though we never let him in. Hence his name, Sneaky Pete. He was so grateful to have a happy home. Somewhere along the way, he decided he like it with us so much that started running our other cats off. Our neighbor has a friend that lives in the country and has a barn full of cats. She was willing to take him. He would get all his shots and treated well, but would not have a home to live in.
We gave that a try. She was supposed to integrate him in, but when he got to the barn they just opened the door and let him run off. We found out nine days later that she never saw him after the first night. She lives near a small unincorporated community. It had been over 100 degrees the whole time he was gone. I knew he had watched us for several weeks before trusting us and he knew more people live in housing developments than the country. I figured he had gone to the housing development to look for a new home. I drove to the barn and house where he was deposited and spent over six hours walking around calling him. I walked over 8 miles and probably should have been arrested. I looked under peoples' front porches, in their garages and in their yards.
I finally found him in a drainage tube. He was dehydrated. I got him out and carried him a mile back to the car and drove him home. I was sure that Tom would be furious with me, but when he came home that night and saw Sneaky Pete he was all smiles. Life was OK for Petey until 2004. We started to notice that if he got stressed he would bite us, hard. It was not often, only about four times all year. By the fall of 2005, he was bad enough that I talked to the veterinarian about having him put down.
In 30 years of owning animals, I could not imagine a scenario where I would have a healthy animal put down. The veterinarian suggested an herbal treatment in the form of a pill. In just three days, he was a different animal. He was silly and happy like he was when we first adopted him. We kept him on the medicine for six months, we now only use it when we know something in our life will cause him stress, such as moving furniture to paint a room. We were able to reintroduce one of the other five cats we have into the house with him. He was reluctant at first, but then started playing. It was as though he didn’t even know how to play with another cat. He had to learn how. Now the two cats race around the house, they stalk each other and play. I think that someone wearing boots used to abuse him.
When I leave for work in the morning for my filing job I am wearing sneakers or girl shoes. I can walk right up to Petey and pat him goodbye. If I am wearing my steel toed boots because I am horseshoeing, I can’t find him anywhere in the house. If I change shoes I will find him under the bed or behind the couch and he is scared.
Sneaky Pete had a tough early life. We first saw him in the summer of 2001. He would spend hours watching us from afar, but would not let us get near him. One evening, while Tom was away, I was sitting outside enjoying night coming in. I felt a paw on my thigh and it was Sneaky Pete. I thought it was odd to go from feral to this without any steps in between. I reached down to pat him on the neck. It felt wet and my hand was covered with blood. I scooped him up and brought him in the house. 
His entire neck had an abrasion as if someone had tried to hang him or drag him with a rope. He had three bleeding wounds that had pellet shot in them. Since he was not feverish and was lucid, I put him in a large crate with no water or food but comfortable bedding for the night. (No food or water in case he needed surgery in the morning. I dropped him off at my veterinarian the next morning (Meriden Animal Hospital) and said that if he was salvageable once they could see all the wounds to go ahead and do surgery. 
He spent two months with us, happy as a clam. We kept finding him in the house, even though we never let him in. Hence his name, Sneaky Pete. He was so grateful to have a happy home. Somewhere along the way, he decided he like it with us so much that started running our other cats off. Our neighbor has a friend that lives in the country and has a barn full of cats. She was willing to take him. He would get all his shots and treated well, but would not have a home to live in. 
We gave that a try. She was supposed to integrate him in, but when he got to the barn they just opened the door and let him run off. We found out nine days later that she never saw him after the first night. She lives near a small unincorporated community. It had been over 100 degrees the whole time he was gone. I knew he had watched us for several weeks before trusting us and he knew more people live in housing developments than the country. I figured he had gone to the housing development to look for a new home. I drove to the barn and house where he was deposited and spent over six hours walking around calling him. I walked over 8 miles and probably should have been arrested. I looked under peoples' front porches, in their garages and in their yards. 
I finally found him in a drainage tube. He was dehydrated. I got him out and carried him a mile back to the car and drove him home. I was sure that Tom would be furious with me, but when he came home that night and saw Sneaky Pete he was all smiles. Life was OK for Petey until 2004. We started to notice that if he got stressed he would bite us, hard. It was not often, only about four times all year. By the fall of 2005, he was bad enough that I talked to the veterinarian about having him put down. 
In 30 years of owning animals, I could not imagine a scenario where I would have a healthy animal put down. The veterinarian suggested an herbal treatment in the form of a pill. In just three days, he was a different animal. He was silly and happy like he was when we first adopted him. We kept him on the medicine for six months, we now only use it when we know something in our life will cause him stress, such as moving furniture to paint a room. We were able to reintroduce one of the other five cats we have into the house with him. He was reluctant at first, but then started playing. It was as though he didn’t even know how to play with another cat. He had to learn how. Now the two cats race around the house, they stalk each other and play. I think that someone wearing boots used to abuse him. 
When I leave for work in the morning for my filing job I am wearing sneakers or girl shoes. I can walk right up to Petey and pat him goodbye. If I am wearing my steel toed boots because I am horseshoeing, I can’t find him anywhere in the house. If I change shoes I will find him under the bed or behind the couch and he is scared.
