BUSTER’S ADVENTURE

                            BUSTER’S ADVENTURE 

If you read the blog about our move, you know we brought our cat to Ecuador. Before I describe his difficult experience with the move, I thought I’d give some of his history, and what led to us deciding to take him along. 

Buster was born on April 17, 2018, one of 5 kittens, in our greenhouse, to his mother who was a stray who basically adopted us. 4 kittens were males, and he was the only one who is long haired and black and white. He has grown to be large, smart, mischievous, and funny. He is 14+ lbs. We have also grown to love him, and he us. He is part of the family, so we decided to take him to Ecuador where we intended to move. 

Buster when just a few months old

He is a teenager here

As an adult, he prefers to sleep on his back - probably because
His belly fur keeps him too warm

The big hurdle in importing him into another country is that he needed to pass inspection with a vet who qualifies animals to be accepted in other countries, and Ecuador has certain guidelines that must be followed. Two nights before he was to go to his first vet appointment, he was in a tussle with another cat outside somewhere, and he received a few scratches, two of which the vet found. He was also discolored with an oily sheen which he probably got underneath my neighbors heavy equipment. The Vet said that Ecuador will not allow pets to come into the country who have wounds. So the ones she found would need to be resolved, and she recommended keeping him inside so as to avoid more fights, something he would not be happy about. 

Three days later, on Sunday morning, we found an abscess above his left eye, and after scratching a bit, he punctured it, allowing me to massage out the gunk, and irrigate it with a antibacterial solution. It was not so large that it would not be healed by his next and last vet visit, and as I’ve done hundreds of treatments of wound care on people, I would be on it. (30 years as an RN and you know what to do) The key was to keep it from scabbing over, because then it would not be resolved in time. So we altered between Vitamin E, Asea gel and Colloidal Silver during the day, and charcoal poultices at night. In a week the hole puncture was closed and not an issue, but the area was now bare skin, a light grey color, a little bigger than a pencil eraser. That light grey color was noticeable at times, and even though the skin was intact, I’m not sure if the vet would give him a passing grade or not. I kept it moist so it would not get crusty, and on the morning of the vet visit, put a pinch of charcoal powder on the area, rubbed around a bit, then combed it out. It perfectly camouflaged the area, and you’d have to know it was there in order to find it. 

TRYING TO KEEP THE POULTICE ON.  HE IS NOT HAPPY WITH THAT COLLAR!

The same vet did a thorough exam, gave him a vaccine and deworming medicine. Occasionally she would then pet him, her hand right on top of the former wound. But she never found it, and so gave him the green light. We would leave 6 days later. The vet had given us a prescription to calm him, so we tried a dose on him the next day. In an hour he came out of the bedroom looking as if he had just walked out of a tavern. We did not like the looks of such. However, he did sleep the whole night, so it may have been a decent trade off. 

The day before departure was hectic, finishing up cleaning and emptying the house, and we got to bed late and were up at 2 AM. I gave Buster his medicine and put him in his carrier. At 3 AM Robert arrived in his pick up to take us to the airport. Much of the ride there Buster let us know his displeasure by frantically scratching away, trying to get out. The carrier was not much bigger than he. 

Once inside the airport he calmed down, probably overwhelmed by the spectacle, something he had never seen. He got his pet tag at the counter, and we went through security where I took him out per their request. I was impressed he that he was totally docile while they took his carrier to run it through ex-ray. Then we realized he had torn a slit in the netting, about an inch long, something we’d need to keep an eye on. 

Pet Tag

We then gave him more calming medication, certainly a little early, since what we’d already given did not phase him. It was to be a 3.5 hour flight to Houston, and in that time his behavior ran the gamut of being frantic to sleeping. It was painful for us to make eye contact with him as he was implying, “Why do I have to endure this?” “ Why are you doing this to me?” 

VERY MISERABLE

Once at our gate in Houston, we felt we could take him out. We noticed the hole in the netting was a little larger. He was still nervous with minor panting the whole time, but he felt it best to not bolt. With so many people around in an unfamiliar place, he must have known his best option was to stay close to us. In some ways he was the center of attention as children would come by to pet him. 

AT THE HOUSTON AIRPORT.  THAT VENT LET
THE COOL AIR FLOW UP, WHICH HE LIKED

Then it was another 3.5 hour flight to Panama. For about the first hour he had his bouts of being frantic. The policy of UA was that the carrier was to stay under the seat in front of us the entire flight, but we decided to risk putting it between us, since there was an empty seat in the row, only letting his head stick out. We gave him calming medication of a different variety which worked well at home, and we are not sure it had much effect. 

The stewardess came by and seemed to like him. I thought she was just buttering us up so as to tell us, “I am sorry, but you will have to put him back under the seat.” But she actually told us the opposite, “I really don’t mind if you hold him.” She went on to relay how she volunteered at a animal shelter, trying to find homes for stray cats. So we let him out of his carrier, but he was restless, wanting to go exploring. Once he tried climbing over my shoulder so he could see what was in back of us. He was determined to do so, so I held him up so he could see, and about half the people in the rear of the plane saw him and either started laughing and/or making some verbal comments. Buster seemed embarrassed, his ears went back, and he recoiled back to my lap. So that flight went better. 

AT THE PANAMA AIRPORT

In Panama we had to make it from one end of the airport to the other, with a lot of stuff. We’d walk a hundred yards, and then rest. 3/4 of the way there we flagged down a rare transport cart who took us most of the rest of the way there. At the gate we took him out of his carrier again, and he stayed glued to us, and again was the center of attention. There was an announcement about the need to give up larger carry ons or one might have to pay extra, something I’ve never heard of, so we let go my day pack and Rosie’s small suitcase. I did take out my camera and black bag and important documents, things I didn’t want to risk losing. 

Finally, we scanned our tickets at the counter, and began walking down the corridor toward the plane. Then an agent said, “Please come back, we have to check something.” It took about 20 minutes for them to determine that they could not let us board because they did not accept pets from other carriers, such as UA. They said to return to the UA gate we came in on. They were also short on options and answers, actually quite indifferent to us. The basic message was, “This is not our problem, it is yours.” They said they would remove all our luggage and take it over to the UA baggage claim. But by the end of our conversation, they said they could not find our carry ons that we had given up before the flight could take off. So they were on their way to Panama, our totes were said to be going back to UA, and we were retracing our steps to the gate we arrived at. 

YOU CAN SEE BUSTER IN HIS CARRIER.  THIS IS AFTER WE REC’D BAD NEWS

At least it turned out to be good advice to return to the UA gate. We ended up talking to an agent and explained our predicament. She got on the phone with COPA and chewed them out. She then called immigration, and ended up taking Buster and me down there. She figured out a solution that would work, and we returned to the gate where they actually printed off tickets for us for the morning flight on COPA to Guayaquil. She said to be at the gate at 04:00 AM and a person named Kirstin would see the process through. 

It was already 11:00 PM, and it would be a long night in the airport. People were far and few between, mostly night workers cleaning, construction workers, or night watchmen. We sat in the gate area where there were plenty of chairs, let Buster out and he stayed right with us. By morning the spark had returned to his eyes and he was his usual self, probably because the medication had worn off. Rosie slept an hour or so, and I dozed a bit. We used a coat to make a tent-like structure for Buster which he seemed to like, and stayed there the whole time. Half way through the night a security team was making their rounds and the lead man came over and asked about our welfare, basically why we were camped out. I explained our situation as best I could with Google Translate, and he said, “No Problem,” and continued his rounds. 

The airport began coming to life around 4:00 AM, so I was keen to watch for Kirstin, but the time came and went. But about 4:15 she arrived and explained that she was on it, having just come from the COPA desk, chewing them out and explaining just how we were going to be on the morning flight to Guayaquil. But she had some other obligations to take care of first, which took an hour. When she returned we headed for immigration where we checked into Panama, Buster included, even though nothing was official in that regard. Then we headed for the COPA desk, and lady named Annie joined us to help expedite the process. They indeed took it all in their hands and though it took an hour, without their help I really don’t know where we’d be. When the process was complete, they sent us to security where we once again went through being scanned and our stuff went through ex-ray. It was at that time Buster finally had to pee, and so he smelled and his fur was yellow, which I noted when I took him out of his carrier and walked through ex-ray. 

We made it to the gate which was hotter than elsewhere, and I took him to the mens room to wash him up. Some kind person offered to help, and I needed it. We put him in the sink and rinsed him off as best we could. When we were almost done, I noticed a janitor behind us, hands on hips, giving me a disgusted look. I told him I was sorry. I’m sure I made more work for them, but what else was I to do? 

That rinse down was probably a good thing as the waiting area was quite warm, and it probably kept Buster cool enough to avoid overheating and panting. He was once again the star of the show with kids coming by to pet him and a few adults oohing and aaahing. We did not give him any more calming medicine. It was only going to be a 2 hour flight and we felt he could endure it OK. This proved to be the case as once he was under the seat in front of us after take off, he slept the whole way, only to be awakened upon touch down. 

We made it through immigration in Ecuador rather quickly, and then it was to the baggage conveyor. I sensed right way our totes were not there, (they were supposed to have been transferred from UA to COPA during the afore mentioned precess) which proved correct, so went over to lost and found where I was at least able to gather up our 2 carry ons sent the day before. I filled out a claim for for the totes which the clerk said would be on the next flight. I restrained myself from telling him I no longer had any confidence in COPA and other such complaints. So we then headed to security where our stuff went through the ex-ray. When they saw the pet carrier they asked if it was a dog or a cat. (No one actually looked therein) “Cat” we said, and then I was escorted to a room to fill out paperwork. I began to be nervous because on the paperwork the Vet had used my short name “Bill” as the owner of the cat, which did not match my official name of “William” which was on my passport. But she never brought it up, and after a few other basic questions/answers, I signed my name and off we went. And somehow in the process of that, I myself was never sent through the ex-ray process. 

Our driver and his wife were waiting and took us to the hotel and we were all checked in about 1:00 PM. I slept for about 3 hours. Buster seemed right at home, eating and drinking and using the litter box. I had air tags in the totes, and about 7:50 noticed they were now at the airport, so went to the lobby, got a ride there, and after an hour and forty-five minutes was coming out with the totes, the same driver waiting for me. It was finally a relief to have all our stuff and be in the country we were moving to. 

ONE COOL CAT

THREE HAPPY CAMPERS

EXHAUSTED

The city of Guayaquil must be one of the more hot and humid places on earth. By 09:00 we were packed and ready to leave. We were already working up a sweat and the wind was picking up. It would take an hour to leave the sweltering lowlands, and so the AC was at full blast. For this part of the trip Rosie had bought a larger cat carrier which unfolded out with side compartments, and Buster was OK with the much less confined area. He also was fascinated with the scenery and would go between Rosie and me to look out the windows. Occasionally he was too hot and began panting. 

Once into the Andes the temperature cooled off and he was more comfortable, as were we. He slept most of the rest of the way, probably quite bored with the whole thing. We reached our lodging, a private cabin, about 8:45, and once inside with all our stuff he settled right in, slept on our bed with us the whole night. By the next morning he was ready to go exploring. 

Buster checking out his new surroundings

So I took him outside where he was smelling the air and pinpointing every sound with his ears. I had him on a leash, which he hates, and balked each time I had to help him avoid going where I did not want him to. So I picked him up, carried him to the bottom of the steps where we sat on a bench swing. In a minute or so he wanted down, and once there made a bee line back to the steps where he went all the way to the top and right to our front door without stopping. I’d like to assume he knows where we stay now. 

The next time we let him out, he went through the fence and into the brush, vanishing in a few seconds. Rosie came out with his bag of treats, shook it, and he came right back out. Phew! Otherwise, he does not like his lack of freedom and spends most of his time up in the loft. I think he will be OK in time. 

AT HOME IN THE LOFT

RELAXING LIKE THAT HE MUST FEEL AT HOME.

On Monday, 3 days after we had been here, after Rosie cut my hair, we decided to give Buster a trim. His hair is long and not something to be desired here as it is hotter than our Oregon winter, for which he grew his winter coat, so we thought we’d help him out. Here are the results. I think we are only about half way done. 

Shortly after that we took him out on that hated leash. After fighting that for 10 minutes, I let him free with plans to watch him. He meandered around, at least not going in the direction of the fence previously mentioned. He went the other way where there is a stone wall some 5 feet high with a fence on top of it with thick vegetation behind. We watched him go right up to the stone wall where he crouched down with intentions of making the jump. And jump he did. By the time I got to him, he was already too far in to grab him, exploring the thickets. Luckily he came back out in 10 minutes. He then meandered to where that wall and fence meet the back of our house, and he jumped right up to the space in between. He was certainly out of reach. So I decided I needed to let him do his thing, and hope he did not run off. While I was stewing about his absence in the hammock, thinking about putting on some protective clothes to go look for him, he had already returned and was laying right under the hammock, having returned from the other direction without my notice. So I let him inside and gave him a few treats. 

Now at the end of the day, we have let him go off three times, and he returns in 10-20 minutes. So it would appear he knows where he lives, and we probably do not need to worry about him. He is smart and attached to us. We’d like him to be happy, and giving him some freedom will go a long way for that. 

After another 2 days it is apparent that we don’t need to worry about him, as he is scared to go too far, does not stay gone very long, and always returns. He has claimed the loft as his, and when we cannot find him, inevitably he is there.

After a week, we know he knows where he lives and don’t need to worry about him.  He has explored a little farther afield, even finding the attic of the bathhouse where it is fairly cool on hot days.  He even wants outside fairly often, and pouts when we don’t let him out.  But usually after 10 minutes he concedes, goes up to his loft, and takes a nap.  The local mockingbirds voice their displeasure when they see him, but he seems to ignore them.  He probably does not realize it yet, but his life has changed forever, for the good we trust.