I will, in fact, return to our regularly scheduled program of punk rock and loud guitars, but, in light of the rather heavy content I’ve posted lately — and anticipate posting anon — I thought we could all use a break. So, without further ado, I give you this important feral cat update.
About five weeks ago, much to the chagrin of our resident cats, Gordy and Waffle, we discovered a feral cat family living under our deck. Or, more accurately, they discovered us. Anyway, they just showed up in our backyard without warning: a mom who’s mostly black with white paws and a small white patch on her chest, and two gray-brown tabby kittens, one with short hair and one who’s quite … fluffy. (Jennifer named them Boots, Pancake, and Fluffy, respectively.)
So, naturally, we put food and water out for them and tried to figure out our next steps. We contacted our local police, as we were instructed to do, and they told us that they have a civilian employee who can trap the cats, scan them (specifically, the mom) for microchips, and, assuming they don’t belong to a family, bring them to a shelter for veterinary care and adoption.
Perfect, right?
Except that the cat-catcher never showed up, even after we left several messages. So, we contacted a local shelter, and they told us that (a) they don’t capture feral cats; we would have to do that (in and of itself, not a major problem); and (b) they don’t take in feral cats for adoption; instead, they will have their vet check them out, fix them, and then they will return the cats to us.
In other words, in this part of the world, what you do with feral cats is get them fixed and let them live out their lives as feral cats.
Okay, but it’s winter now, for all intents and purposes. And let’s just say that, even though I was raised a dog person, I’m now a full-fledged cat person. (Hey, I was raised Catholic too …)
Anyway, given the lack of local support, we did what any rational person would do in these circumstances. We made it our life’s mission to feed and care for these cats (along with Gordy and Waffle, of course, who are more than a little confused).
For now, they remain outside … but we got them a pretty deluxe heated shelter and we put food and fresh water out twice a day.
The plan is to build up trust, get them in our cat carrier, bring them to the vet for a checkup (and fixing!), and then figure out what to do.
The trust building is going well. Over the course of the past few weeks, we got the mom to approach us, cautiously, and sniff an outstretched hand. Then she let us pat her gently on the head. Eventually we could pet her while she ate.
And over the past couple of days — STOP THE PRESSES! — I have been able to pick her up on a few occasions. In fact, she doesn’t really fuss when I do, as long as I don’t try to hold her too long.
Her babies (we estimate them to be at least a couple of months old) are less sure of us. They tend to run away when they see us, but lately they only run a short distance and stop to see what we’re up to. They seem to react positively, albeit cautiously, to the kinds of things you say to small animals, like “hey, buddy.”
So, it’s a work in progress, and we’re not really sure where it will lead. All I can say is that when a friend recently asked us how many cats we have, we said … “it’s complicated.”
Do we have two cats, two indoor cats and three outdoor cats, or five cats? Who’s to say, but if it gets much colder, I might just open the sliders on the back deck and let all hell break loose.
This has been an important feral cat update. Thank you for your attention to this matter.
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