Cat Wrangling

Greetings From Domelandia,

A couple of years ago, a scrawny tom cat appeared at our house.  He looked awful--not only was he starving, but he had a festering hole in the side of his head where he'd run afoul of Lord knows what.  I took pity on him and got some antibiotics from the vet and put it on some food that I had to put high up so the dogs wouldn't get it.  I thought he was feral--he wouldn't let me get close to him.  Once he got used to me, however, I realized he'd been abandoned. The people who lived down the road moved away and left him to fend for himself.

The Viking called him 'Bad Cat' because he displaced our other cat.  She didn't like him.  She moved over to the barn and got killed by a bobcat one evening.  That was heartbreaking for me.  As time went on I came to like him OK.  I tried not to get too attached to him, but he really was kind of a nice fellow.  I renamed him Mayer.

One day he came home with a chunk out of his ear and blood on his face.  I decided we'd better get him neutered so I made an appointment with the vet.  The morning of his procedure, he was nowhere to be found.  When he showed up again, I made another appointment.  Same deal.  He seemed to know that we were planning something that involved him in a big way.  Finally we agreed not to say anything out loud and we took him to the vet.

He was freaked out and screamed all the way to the vet's.  He wasn't completely wild but also wasn't used to being transported in a cat carrier.  I went north to see the Denver branch of the family and the Viking had the task of getting him home and settled.  The vet advised him to keep him quiet and not let him go outside for a week or so.  The first day he escaped as Ric was leaving for work.  He was gone about 5 days but eventually showed up.  I told the Viking that he must've had some stuff to deal with and needed to be by himself for awhile.

A couple of weeks later, I glanced outside to see him in the mating position with a pretty little black and white cat.  I knocked on the window and they ran away but then I realized that Mayer was in a relationship--something beyond mere sex.  Their friendship seemed important to Mayer, so I just let it be.  She was still wild but finally got brave enough to sneak into the mudroom at night to share Mayer's food.  The two of them would sit side by side and look at us through the glass door.  Like Reality TV.  I called her Miss Kitty.

I read somewhere that a female cat is always pregnant.  Male cats kept finding her and I'd hear kittens up in the rocks, but I never saw them.  Last year, she got really brave and had a litter in Mayer's bed.  She moved them soon after they were born and I never saw them again.  We thought about her life and how awful it must be to keep having and losing her little ones. (I know I'm assigning human emotions to a feral cat, but I am only human).   Besides that, cats kill a lot of birds.  The Viking and I decided that the next time she had kittens, we'd try to do something to help her.

Pretty soon there was another litter in the mud room.  We made a safe place for the kittens in the shed and starting feeding them.  Sometimes I knew they were in there, but they were so well hidden that I couldn't see them.  At night they'd come into the mud room.  Their Uncle Mayer apparently enjoyed their company.  They slept with him.  They looked at us through the glass door and we were sorely tempted to keep a couple.  There's nothing much cuter than a kitten.

We set a trap and we caught Miss Kitty right away.  It was relatively simple. We took her to the vet and the local animal shelter paid for her shots and her operation.  The kind lady at the vet's office told us she'd find homes for the kittens whenever we could bring them to her.  Catching them wasn't so easy.  They were getting big.  They hissed and spat if they saw us.  We had to wait until they were settled in the mud room for the night.  VERY QUIETLY we had to go out another door, sneak up to the front door and hold something over the cat door to prevent their escape.  The Viking put on heavy gloves,  went into the mud room through the inside door, and grabbed them one by one.  They were extremely frightened, but he was able to catch all of them without getting scratched.  I hope they're happy in their new homes. 

We're grateful to our vet and Noah's Ark for helping us.  We brought Miss Kitty home and we see her in the mud room almost every night, sharing her boyfriend's food and sleeping over.  A happy ending.