When the story of Lux broke, I don’t remember meeting one person who didn’t have an opinion. Some were right there with the dad, righteous to do anything that would save their child from pain. The animal advocates questioned why anyone would leave a baby alone with a cat in the first place.
The cat’s tail was pulled; the cat was kicked. Speculation about the type of person who would call 911 on their cat ran rampant. No one really believed the cat could have been as vicious as they made out. Most people blamed the guardians, assuming they just didn’t know about cats. I was right there with them, thinking that would never have happened had Lux been mine.
Now it looked like I was about to put my hubris to the test. The plan was for my husband and me to foster the big cat in our home for one week, follow Jackson Galaxy’s plan, and see what happened, see if living with quiet, cat-savvy people in a safe environment would make a difference. It was all very hush hush, but I gathered Jackson had been working with Lux and his family in their home. Apparently the problem hadn’t been solved.
My first meeting with both Jackson Galaxy and Lux was to be filmed. As I mentioned in my previous blog, I don’t look like TV people and I was nervous, but I was excited as well. Underneath everything—the show, the TV crew, the big-name personality, the 15 minutes of fame—ran one constant: This was about Lux. Given other circumstances, Lux might have been euthanized for his outburst. Jackson was offering Lux a chance for a normal life, and through Lux, through My Cat From Hell, advocating for other “crazy” cats as well.