Anecdote | Learning Experience

I Bought My Kitten From a Man Who Pulled Him Out of a Backpack

Never buy a pet from a fly-by-night breeder or like me, you may pay dearly for your mistake.

When The Introverted Vet wrote her* article, “Please don’t buy your pet off of Craigslist,” her words were humiliating yet familiar. So familiar, in fact, that I convinced myself she was writing about me. The author named her canine protagonist Harvey; our precious feline addition, we named Harley. Could she be sharing my story? It was unlikely. Allegedly, my ignorance placed me in a category of naïve pet purchasers that often fail. But up to this moment, I can’t truly be sure.

Today, I wave a white flag while admitting my flaws after ignoring the red flags I should have seen. Please don’t make the same mistake I did.

It isn’t easy writing this article, but if sharing my experience can prevent others from buying from Craigslist, Kijiji, or an animal mill, it will be worth it. After reading Harvey’s story, you best take a look at mine.

We had recently rehomed our cat Wylie to a loving couple with a larger space after his life-threatening behaviours, like chewing wires and scaling our third-floor balcony rail, alerted us he was a trapped, unhappy cat. Skye, our rescue, was not used to living alone, so finding her a playmate seemed a responsible thing to do. I decided I wanted a Ragdoll — a breed known for their outgoing, cuddly personality — recognizing I’d likely have to forego shelter adoption and instead would have to buy.

Searching through breeder profiles, I learned three things,

Ragdolls were expensive, starting from $1000+

There were long waiting lists for litters

Many breeders lived far away.

The Introverted Vet got it right when she said,

One day, you finally come across a listing online. It’s on [Kijiji]. There are dozens of pictures of a precious little boy, bright blue-eyed and calling out to you. The exact breed and the exact colour you’ve been wanting. The price isn’t too bad you suppose; middle-range but still within budget. It’s an instant connection. You bite the bullet and contact the seller.

Harley was a Ragdoll mixed with Tabby, and for this reason, he was sold at a third of the price. He was perfect at first glance, but time proved unkind.

My words of advice to all of you out there seeking a new pet: once the love bug hits, there’s a great chance you’re too far gone. From the point of contact until the end of the transaction, these were the red flags that I chose to ignore.

• I was familiar with the seller’s location as indicated on Kijiji, but I learned he lived nowhere close to the area when I contacted him.
• The seller did not want me to come to his home to view the kitten and his littermates because his mother suffered from mental health issues, so we planned the sale to take place outside a library close to his house.
• He arrived at the library on his bicycle with Harley stuffed into a fully zippered knapsack.
• He told me Harley was vaccinated, but the paper he gave me was worthless. The vaccination record was photocopied from a book with no identifying markers, like the vet’s name or signature. I hadn’t looked at it at the time I handed him the money. When I called the seller from my vet’s office, he ignored my call.

Seeing these red flags in print, I am ashamed and embarrassed. After all, in general, I’m an intelligent, level-headed woman. But before you judge me too harshly, let me remind you that the mind often shuts down when the heart takes command.

As soon as the seller pulled eight-week-old Harley from the backpack and placed him shivering in my arms, I knew he was mine. While he may not be a rescue in the true sense of the word, I was indeed rescuing him from a man who clearly didn’t know how to treat a pet. I paid him his asking price, and we headed to my vet.

Harley sat on the examination table while the veterinarian shook his head. “Never buy a cat off Kijiji,” he said, but it was too late. This was the first time, but not the last time I felt a pit in my stomach. How could I be so stupid? I knew better. When he told me Harley’s examination went well, he warned me we’d know better in a few days. I didn’t tell him about the red flags. What was the point? I left his office and excitedly headed for home.

Upon arrival, I put Harley into the bathroom, where the space was small, and he could feel secure, but I quickly transferred him to the bedroom that night to bond, and I kept him warm. Curious but aloof, Skye was banished from sleeping with us that night. The plan was to keep them apart until the two could safely co-exist. My husband and I didn’t know at the time, the term “keeping them safe” would last close to a month and become a harrowing ordeal.

At first, Harley was the bright blue-eyed kitten I saw in the photo. He ate well, was frisky, played lots, and purred often. We kept our cats apart while we allowed them to smell each other through the door. We took turns allowing each feline the run of the apartment while the other rested peacefully in the bedroom atop of our bed. At this point, we weren’t switching litter boxes, as we were unaware anything was wrong.

As the days rolled on, Harley’s health began to decline. His coat began to lacklustre, he suffered from major diarrhea, he developed a very nasty cough, and his breathing became laboured. It was Saturday, and our vet was closed for the weekend when I rushed him to the Emergency vet clinic to be assessed.

The Introverted Vet’s words rang eerily true,

The Veterinarian finally calls you into the consult room with a serious look on her face. After pleasantries, she delivers you the first blow: “Harvey is very sick. His blood glucose is unreadably low. He is severely dehydrated and his body is in shock.

Our vet added our kitten had fluid in his lungs. He was suffering from a severe respiratory illness, and there was a great possibility he could die. We brought him home with a special diet, medicine, and an expensive paid receipt outlining a list of extensive services.

The medicine helped Harley recover slightly, bringing with it increased energy which allowed us to play, but his diarrhea continued, as did our expenses. Our vet, who was now handling his care, kept him on a special diet and supplements.

We were struggling working full time, visiting and playing with Harley for an extensive time in the bedroom, then visiting and playing with Skye for an equally long time in the living room. Harley was becoming a master escape artist, running out of the bedroom every chance that he got.

Keeping them apart was more difficult than trying to keep them in separate rooms. The door to the bedroom didn’t reach down to the floor, so we tried stuffing it with a towel to prevent them from contact. Surprisingly when we returned home from work, the towel moved, and the pair were playing footsies, much to our dismay. Keeping Skye safe was of our utmost concern, but we were failing.

Within weeks of Harley lacking vital improvement, my vet recommended him to a specialist. At this point, I had spent over $2,000, and there was no end in sight.

The specialist was patient and kind and took an immediate liking to Harley. While he no longer faced certain death, she delivered the devastating news that we would need to keep Harley and Skye separated for a minimum of another nine months. We were told his condition would likely not be cured. He would continue to be under her care with an unknown price tag. At this point, getting pet insurance was out of the question as they didn’t cover pre-existing conditions.

The stress was mounting. My head was swirling. What had I gotten my husband, Skye, and me into? Keeping the pair separated was harder than I can describe.

Ed and I had a difficult discussion. A few short years had passed since giving up Wylie. Were we willing to give up yet another cat because things weren’t going well? Maybe! We had Skye to think of. Nine more months of exposure to the respiratory virus could prove harmful to her.

I put feelers out to rehome him. The local Humane Society agreed to adopt him out, promising not to euthanize him. I booked an appointment to bring him in the next day.

By good fortune, the specialist called before we brought him to the shelter and asked to bring him home to live with her other cats afflicted with the same illness. We have lost contact, but I think of Harley often. I hope he is living a full and happy life.

Final thoughts

So, if you’re planning on buying a pet, it doesn’t matter if it’s a dog, cat, rabbit, or whatever, take heed of The Introverted Vet’s advice.

Contemplate your actions when choosing your future dog. Do not support irresponsible backyard breeders. Ask your breeders all the right questions. Make sure you see the breeding environment and the rest of the litter. Do your due diligence.

Her advice is very insightful, but her article misses a critical point. When you buy from a backyard or fly by night breeder, you run a high risk your pet is sick. When you bring a sick animal into your home that already has a resident pet, you jeopardize that animal's well-being.

In the end, Skye did contract the herpes virus. She suffers from respiratory unrest to this day. Thankfully, she is thriving and is a content and happy cat but remains contagious. We will remain a single cat family hereon in.

The takeaway

In my attempt to save spending $1,000, the cost of a Ragdoll from a reputable breeder, I instead spent $2000+ in less than a month and got two sick cats and a lifetime of guilt.

Thank you, The Introverted Vet, for writing such a compelling article. I hope I am not one of the patients that inspired this topic, but I easily could be.

*While I am unaware as to whether The Introverted Vet is male or female, for this article, I refer to them as feminine in recognition of the two female vet specialists who took care of Harley and me.