it chooses you.
Sure, I've always liked cats.
One or two cats.
You know -- a nice, reasonable, sane number.
For 17 1/2 years, I was owned by the sweetest most troublefree kitty ever, the Divine Miss Amber. I lost her to Feline Chronic Renal Failure just this past September, after a brave and graceful battle on her part. She was the best, our sweet and purry little princess, like a child to us.
We weren't going to get another cat right away, maybe not for years. Oh, no. Not us. That's what we told ourselves. We'd vacation, worry-free, maybe take that month-long trip to Europe, without having to worry about a furry roommate languishing back at home.
Right.
So ... five days after Amber died, as I was walking down the driveway after coming back from the Kitty Crematory with her ashes -- holding them in my hand in their little container, no less -- I heard an abandoned newborn kitten just screaming and screaming from under the neighbor's new wood deck. With a crowbar and the neighbors' permission, I extricated a ten-day-old tuxedo female, and learned to bottlefeed her. I named her "Xena", because of her feisty loud-mouthed Warrior Princess Spirit. She is now a beautiful 11-month-old.
When Xena was six weeks old and very wild and hyper, I got her a "nanny" to help her learn proper cat behavior. (I know many things, but I don't know how to become a successful young cat.) Prudence, the "nanny", is a three-year-old spayed Momcat, a gray-and-white "Kitler", rescued from the shelter. Not only has Prudence turned out to be the perfect guide and companion for young Xena, she is also a perfect loving cat for us. In her quiet patient affectionate way, she now occupies the Alpha Slot in our home.
So two cats sounds about right, right?
I'd see Xena's littermates, and possibly her Mom, from time to time, hanging around the neighborhood. A few months back, I realized that older cats were trying to breed with Xena's littermates. I was busy with work at the time, and didn't want to think about the ramifications of this. It wasn't my responsibility, right? After all, I'd already taken one of these little bums in. What more should I be expected to do for them?
A few weeks ago, I found that the ramifications of this laissez-faire "let nature take its course" decision included sick and weak adorable kittens on my doorstep. The very young and overwhelmed feral Mom, my Xena's sister, dropped her two weakest and sickest (out of four) off at my back door. I tried, for a week, to save them. They adapted to human touch quickly, and were very very affectionate and cuddly, as if they knew I was trying my best to help them. But their flea anemia was too severe to save them, even with massive (and expensive!) veterinary intervention.
Only one of the two surviving kittens has ever come close enough to be touched. The adults absolutely refuse. I started reading up about trap/neuter/return, apparently the most humane and effective way of dealing with feral cat populations. I signed up for a class, but it doesn't meet until February.
It all sounds very challenging, and I wish somebody else would do it ... but there *isn't* anybody else.
So ....... for the past several weeks I've been feeding the ferals, to get them in a habit of coming here, and to get them to relax enough to walk into the traps. I hate the idea of trapping them and scaring them, but ... I don't think I have a choice here, 'cause the kittens are newly weaned, and the pre-mating vocalizations and posturing have already started.
I thought I had four or five ferals out there. As I feed them, I've discovered that I have between 10 and 15 to deal with. Most of them look exactly like each other (which is why it was hard to get a bead on their exact number). They also look exactly like Xena: plushy short-haired tuxedos with the longest thickest tails I've ever seen, white ear hairs, brows, and whiskers, four *huge* white paws with extremely long prehensile toes, white bellies, sometimes a tiny star or blaze on the forehead, and little sprinklings, like white "garters" or "panties", on their hips and thighs. Every single one of them is beautiful, and they all have the most intelligent expressions I've ever seen on any animal.
And they've cut *way* down on the rats and squirrels.
But God, what a job! Yeah, I know. I'm bitching and whining. I'd love to wait until I've taken the Feral Cat Caretaking course to deal with this, but ... the toms are starting to circle the queens already. If I wait, even a few weeks, I may be looking at 20 or more cats to trap in a few months.
Aaagh.
For Amber's sake, and for Xena's sake, and for the sake of the two little recent foundlings who were spiritually ready to be loving pets, but just too physically drained to make it, I have to do this.
I'll bet Amber, over at the Rainbow Bridge, is laughing her ass off ...
... like I used to laugh at Crazy Cat Ladies.
