Jasper and Spike,
I'm sorry. I really tried. I tried to cuddle you and tempt you with food.
I brought Bob in for a friendly face.
But you would have none of it.
Then I totally lost your trust when I tossed you in a carrier and took you to get fixed.
Then we waited. We waited for a warmer day.
You had never seen snow or experienced 20 degree weather - or less.
You were terrified when I put you in the carrier again today.
I set the carrier down by the door and opened it.
Spike jumped right out
Jasper waited. I'm sure the cold terrified you.
You didn't go.
I set the carrier outside the door.
You didn't go.
The other outside cats looked in at you.
You didn't go.
Then you did go.
You shook your feet in the cold snow.
You struggled as you walked through it.
You'd been inside for a month or more. It must have seemed so cold.
I knew you weren't happy inside.
I knew today would be a good day to go out.
It would be cold, but it would get warmer tomorrow - just before it rains.
I'm sorry.
I tried.
Please come back for food.
You are always welcome inside.
I hope God does see every sparrow. I thought he sent you to me. Now I'm not sure.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Saturday, November 5, 2011
My Heart Breaks as it Leaps for Joy
The ballad of Rumble, Gizmo, and Hissyfit
On Sept. 28, 2011 three young cats - probably about three months old wandered into a humane trap. They were moved into two carriers and spent the night in fear in a quiet bedroom inside the house they were born behind.
The next day, they were driven to the Humane Society, knocked out and "fixed". Almost twenty-four hours after they were trapped, they were back in the bedroom, released from the carriers, but still terrified. They hid in the dark recesses of an old computer desk because that was the only place to hide. While the bedframe still stood in the room like an old skeleton, the mattress and boxspring were gone.
Everyday I fed them, picked them up, petted them, scooped their litter, and whispered kind words to them. Though he was terrified, the completely black cat with a single white whisker purred loudly - as if pleasure and fear were a bit mixed up in his mind. That is why I called him Rumble. Of course, as soon as I put him down, he would run and hide again.
Gizmo was the most shy. He would push himself as far into those crevessaes hoping that I would not be able to catch him. But every day I cuddled him. He was frightened, but never threatening. Except for the few times that he took the lead from his sister and unconvincingly hissed at me from his hiding spot. That completely black cat with the face shaped like an equilaateral triangle had the face of Gizmo from the Gremlins movie.
Now, Hissyfit, she was another story. Everytime I just looked at her she would hiss. She hissed as I reached for her and sometimes when I held her. She bit me once, but I think it was by accident while she was trying to hiss, and my hand got in her mouth.
This went on for three weeks. I finally got the sense that I was getting nowhere with Hissyfit, but maybe the others would come around. Sadly, I returned Hissy to the bush under which she had lived the first half of her life. She gladly returned to it, and I have seen her shyly come to the food dish a few times since her release.
Within a week of Hissyfit's departure, the two remaining males were ready to socialize. Rumble wouldn't run and hide anymore. After another week, Gizmo wasn't hiding either. They were happy to see me come to the door and even started to get the run of the upstairs. They would come and snuggle with me on my bed for a few minutes before we all went to sleep at night in our separate rooms. I was filled with joy that they had learned to be "house" cats. And told them so everyday.
But we would not recognize joy without pain. I wasnted so badly for them to have their own house to be housecats in, but my cats were not really accepting of others. They would not be able to stay with us. That had never been my intention. I just wanted to get them out from under the bush and into a good home.
Tonight that happened. Two days ago, a person Tom works with came to the house to visit the cats. She fell in love right away, but couldn't take them that night. They needed to prepare a space for them in their house with two dogs. They wanted to provide them a private, safe place. I wouldn't know when they were ready, but I figured it would be on the weekend.
Tonight I got the call. Their new house was ready for them. I was busy getting ready for scrapbooking. So I didn't get to linger with a goodbye. I gave them both my standard "blessing" as I packed them into the carrier: that they would be going to a home where people loved them and knew how to take care of them. That they might be afraid for a few more days, but then their lives would be so much better. They would have a whole house to live in not just a bedroom and a few hours of freedom. I was happy for them. And sad for me - and that they would have to be afraid again when their lives changed again so unexpectedly.
My sadness is selfishness. I worked so hard to change their lives. I spent time (never enough) but time every day bringing these ferral kittens into a new life of safety and care. I would never see them again. I will always wonder if they will even remember me.
I have this little fantasy. That all the cats I have ever fostered will meet me in heaven. That God will show me to a room and there they will all be to tell me their lives had been wonderful because they had spent those few weeks with me and I had given all of them my standard blessing.
It feels empty. Most of us work so very hard and then one day, the work is gone. It reminds me that heaven isn't about saving up our good behavior for some later date. That heaven is right in front of us every day purring loudly or hiding in a corner. It is up to us to reach out and live in that heaven.
Charlie is at my feet tonight. He is in heaven. It is the first time in weeks that he and Jack have been the only cats in the house.
On Sept. 28, 2011 three young cats - probably about three months old wandered into a humane trap. They were moved into two carriers and spent the night in fear in a quiet bedroom inside the house they were born behind.
The next day, they were driven to the Humane Society, knocked out and "fixed". Almost twenty-four hours after they were trapped, they were back in the bedroom, released from the carriers, but still terrified. They hid in the dark recesses of an old computer desk because that was the only place to hide. While the bedframe still stood in the room like an old skeleton, the mattress and boxspring were gone.
Everyday I fed them, picked them up, petted them, scooped their litter, and whispered kind words to them. Though he was terrified, the completely black cat with a single white whisker purred loudly - as if pleasure and fear were a bit mixed up in his mind. That is why I called him Rumble. Of course, as soon as I put him down, he would run and hide again.
Gizmo was the most shy. He would push himself as far into those crevessaes hoping that I would not be able to catch him. But every day I cuddled him. He was frightened, but never threatening. Except for the few times that he took the lead from his sister and unconvincingly hissed at me from his hiding spot. That completely black cat with the face shaped like an equilaateral triangle had the face of Gizmo from the Gremlins movie.
Now, Hissyfit, she was another story. Everytime I just looked at her she would hiss. She hissed as I reached for her and sometimes when I held her. She bit me once, but I think it was by accident while she was trying to hiss, and my hand got in her mouth.
This went on for three weeks. I finally got the sense that I was getting nowhere with Hissyfit, but maybe the others would come around. Sadly, I returned Hissy to the bush under which she had lived the first half of her life. She gladly returned to it, and I have seen her shyly come to the food dish a few times since her release.
Within a week of Hissyfit's departure, the two remaining males were ready to socialize. Rumble wouldn't run and hide anymore. After another week, Gizmo wasn't hiding either. They were happy to see me come to the door and even started to get the run of the upstairs. They would come and snuggle with me on my bed for a few minutes before we all went to sleep at night in our separate rooms. I was filled with joy that they had learned to be "house" cats. And told them so everyday.
But we would not recognize joy without pain. I wasnted so badly for them to have their own house to be housecats in, but my cats were not really accepting of others. They would not be able to stay with us. That had never been my intention. I just wanted to get them out from under the bush and into a good home.
Tonight that happened. Two days ago, a person Tom works with came to the house to visit the cats. She fell in love right away, but couldn't take them that night. They needed to prepare a space for them in their house with two dogs. They wanted to provide them a private, safe place. I wouldn't know when they were ready, but I figured it would be on the weekend.
Tonight I got the call. Their new house was ready for them. I was busy getting ready for scrapbooking. So I didn't get to linger with a goodbye. I gave them both my standard "blessing" as I packed them into the carrier: that they would be going to a home where people loved them and knew how to take care of them. That they might be afraid for a few more days, but then their lives would be so much better. They would have a whole house to live in not just a bedroom and a few hours of freedom. I was happy for them. And sad for me - and that they would have to be afraid again when their lives changed again so unexpectedly.
My sadness is selfishness. I worked so hard to change their lives. I spent time (never enough) but time every day bringing these ferral kittens into a new life of safety and care. I would never see them again. I will always wonder if they will even remember me.
I have this little fantasy. That all the cats I have ever fostered will meet me in heaven. That God will show me to a room and there they will all be to tell me their lives had been wonderful because they had spent those few weeks with me and I had given all of them my standard blessing.
It feels empty. Most of us work so very hard and then one day, the work is gone. It reminds me that heaven isn't about saving up our good behavior for some later date. That heaven is right in front of us every day purring loudly or hiding in a corner. It is up to us to reach out and live in that heaven.
Charlie is at my feet tonight. He is in heaven. It is the first time in weeks that he and Jack have been the only cats in the house.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Where you at, Cat?
Dear Bob,
I wish we could find a good place for you. I selfishly want you in my own house. But unfortunately my cats Charlie and Jack do not. Charlie attacks you if he gets the chance and you try to attack Jack to establish a pecking order. We've been trying since July, but none of you are really getting along. I hate having to lock you up when you are inside with us.
I'm afraid to send you to someone else. I'm afraid you'll go outside and try to return to your outside home.
I don't know how to make your life good, Bob. I hope we figure it out, soon - for your sake.
I wish we could find a good place for you. I selfishly want you in my own house. But unfortunately my cats Charlie and Jack do not. Charlie attacks you if he gets the chance and you try to attack Jack to establish a pecking order. We've been trying since July, but none of you are really getting along. I hate having to lock you up when you are inside with us.
I'm afraid to send you to someone else. I'm afraid you'll go outside and try to return to your outside home.
I don't know how to make your life good, Bob. I hope we figure it out, soon - for your sake.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Bob loves me. Charlie hates Bob
Bob has been coming in and out a lot this week. We kept him in Friday night. We had to lock him up to keep him safe from Charlie.
On Saturday morning, I was getting ready to leave to do some errands. I wanted to let Bob out, but Charlie was wanting a fight. Bob retreated upstairs, and I followed. Charlie snuck after us.
Bob was afraid he would be locked in his room and hid under the bed in Mavericks room. He avoided me. I finally chased him out from under the bed. Charlie appeared at the bedroom door and hissed. Bob ran back under the bed. I slammed the door in Charlie's face, then he charged the door. I coaxed and coaxed and finally, Bob let me pull him out from under it.
I whisked him downstairs and opened the door. He sauntered outside and up into the bushes.
Charlie was relieved.
I thought I saw Bob waiting for breakfast when I got up for a pit stop. I decided to sleep in. So 45 minutes later when I finally went out Bob wasn't there.
Tonight, it started to rain pretty hard. I turned on the light and called for Bob. I waited and listened for him to answer, but I didn't see or hear him. A few minutes later, Charlie was nervously scratching at the door. There was Bob. I brought him in. He ate while I combed burrs out of his fur. I left him to rest while I finished making some cards in the basement.
Later I played with him while putting clothes away. I had to go downstairs to turn off lights. Charlie was sitting on a sweater that was air-drying on top of the drier. Honestly, I think Charlie was thinking he'd ambush Bob if he came in to use the box.
How will we ever manage these two in the same house? Winter will be here before we know it.
On Saturday morning, I was getting ready to leave to do some errands. I wanted to let Bob out, but Charlie was wanting a fight. Bob retreated upstairs, and I followed. Charlie snuck after us.
Bob was afraid he would be locked in his room and hid under the bed in Mavericks room. He avoided me. I finally chased him out from under the bed. Charlie appeared at the bedroom door and hissed. Bob ran back under the bed. I slammed the door in Charlie's face, then he charged the door. I coaxed and coaxed and finally, Bob let me pull him out from under it.
I whisked him downstairs and opened the door. He sauntered outside and up into the bushes.
Charlie was relieved.
I thought I saw Bob waiting for breakfast when I got up for a pit stop. I decided to sleep in. So 45 minutes later when I finally went out Bob wasn't there.
Tonight, it started to rain pretty hard. I turned on the light and called for Bob. I waited and listened for him to answer, but I didn't see or hear him. A few minutes later, Charlie was nervously scratching at the door. There was Bob. I brought him in. He ate while I combed burrs out of his fur. I left him to rest while I finished making some cards in the basement.
Later I played with him while putting clothes away. I had to go downstairs to turn off lights. Charlie was sitting on a sweater that was air-drying on top of the drier. Honestly, I think Charlie was thinking he'd ambush Bob if he came in to use the box.
How will we ever manage these two in the same house? Winter will be here before we know it.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Where is Everyone?
OK, I took Big Daddy Cat in to be neutered. After reading more about ferals, I've decided to Commit to supporting our feral colony. Brought him home, fed him (he didn't eat much - if any), then released him. He took off like a bat out of hell. That was Monday night.
Tuesday, I only saw two or three cats. Today - morning food still in dish at 7 pm. I haven't seen Bob since Sunday morning.
Did Big Daddy Cat move you all away because of his surgery? Did someone harm all of you? Do you hate that Wal-Mart Special Kitty crap food so much that you moved away? I bought some Meow Mix yesterday.
I hope someone is looking out for you guys, because I miss you.
Please come home.
Tuesday, I only saw two or three cats. Today - morning food still in dish at 7 pm. I haven't seen Bob since Sunday morning.
Did Big Daddy Cat move you all away because of his surgery? Did someone harm all of you? Do you hate that Wal-Mart Special Kitty crap food so much that you moved away? I bought some Meow Mix yesterday.
I hope someone is looking out for you guys, because I miss you.
Please come home.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The Meaning of Life
Well, Bob is now an indoor/outdoor cat. He goes out at night and comes in to sleep in peace and relative safety during the day.
But I decided I needed to get going again with the trapping projects. Last week I made the earliest appointment I could - which turned out to be Monday morning. And guess who finally walked into the trap tonight. The kittens looked at the food, but wouldn't go in.
But Big Daddy Cat decided it was worth the risk.
Big Daddy Cat is the Alpha male. I'm about 95% sure he is the daddy of all the black cats we have out there - save for Old Mamma who we haven't seen in several weeks. Lately Big Daddy Cat has gotten very aggressive. I'm not sure if it is a food issue, a too-many-young-males-in-my-territory issue, or if it is because the most eligible females for mating are either gone or not going into heat. (I believe cats will only mate if they are in heat.)
We'll we trapped and and fairly easily moved him from the trap into a carrier. The carrier is just sitting in the garage. He's calm now, but in the trap he wasn't. But let's face it, none of the cats is calm in the carrier. Hell, even our own cats are not calm in there.
But here is the hard part. We kind of like the other cats, but we don't like Big Daddy. He is aggressive and mean. Both my husband and neighbor have said we should just let him go on some farm somewhere. But that doesn't solve the real problem.. He can still mate and make more cats, and we don't want that to happen.
So what do we do? I am having trouble playing god right now. Who am I to decide if he should live or die - just because he is a nuisance to me? Would someone relocate him? Will neutering ease the aggressiveness? If he can't be relocated, if he is still aggressive, then what? I can't think about it. Why am I in this position?
But I decided I needed to get going again with the trapping projects. Last week I made the earliest appointment I could - which turned out to be Monday morning. And guess who finally walked into the trap tonight. The kittens looked at the food, but wouldn't go in.
But Big Daddy Cat decided it was worth the risk.
Big Daddy Cat is the Alpha male. I'm about 95% sure he is the daddy of all the black cats we have out there - save for Old Mamma who we haven't seen in several weeks. Lately Big Daddy Cat has gotten very aggressive. I'm not sure if it is a food issue, a too-many-young-males-in-my-territory issue, or if it is because the most eligible females for mating are either gone or not going into heat. (I believe cats will only mate if they are in heat.)
We'll we trapped and and fairly easily moved him from the trap into a carrier. The carrier is just sitting in the garage. He's calm now, but in the trap he wasn't. But let's face it, none of the cats is calm in the carrier. Hell, even our own cats are not calm in there.
But here is the hard part. We kind of like the other cats, but we don't like Big Daddy. He is aggressive and mean. Both my husband and neighbor have said we should just let him go on some farm somewhere. But that doesn't solve the real problem.. He can still mate and make more cats, and we don't want that to happen.
So what do we do? I am having trouble playing god right now. Who am I to decide if he should live or die - just because he is a nuisance to me? Would someone relocate him? Will neutering ease the aggressiveness? If he can't be relocated, if he is still aggressive, then what? I can't think about it. Why am I in this position?
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Wherefore art thou, Bob?
OK, so you lived in our house for three weeks. Granted, it was not the best life. I'm sorry you had to live in a bedroom for half of your day. And I'm sorry you had to be gated in one part of the house, sometimes with us, sometimes not. But that is what was safest for you. Charlie was very angry at you - he didn't want another cat living in our house. Jack was afraid of you - because you were afraid of him.
Maybe things would have been different if you could have had the run of the house. But that just wasn't safe. So yesterday when I opened the door. You went out. Then came back in. Then went out. You were happy to be out. You disappeared into the bushes.
At night you came back. I tried to bring you upstairs, but you were just too antsy. So I let you back out and you disappeared into the night again.
And there you were this morning - waiting under our patio chair. I gave you breakfast and petted you, but you acted like a shy feral again. You came back at dusk. You let me cuddle and pet you. You even came in the house for a short visit and a handful of kibble at 10pm. But you wanted back out. And I watched you disappear into the bushes again. I saw a streetlight reflect off your silky tail once, but then you were gone.
"I love you, Bob," I said to the night. The crickets whispered back. I know you heard me.
I know you will be back tomorrow. I know we will continue to build a relationship. I don't know where it will lead. Probably one of us will have a broken heart. Maybe it was already you since you weren't the first cat in my house.
"I love you, Bob," I say again out the upstairs window as I check to see if you've changed your mind.
That will have to do for a blessing. Hopefully my love is big enough to protect you in la vida loca. Hopefully my love gets the attention of Ceiling Cat who can watch over you, too.
Maybe things would have been different if you could have had the run of the house. But that just wasn't safe. So yesterday when I opened the door. You went out. Then came back in. Then went out. You were happy to be out. You disappeared into the bushes.
At night you came back. I tried to bring you upstairs, but you were just too antsy. So I let you back out and you disappeared into the night again.
And there you were this morning - waiting under our patio chair. I gave you breakfast and petted you, but you acted like a shy feral again. You came back at dusk. You let me cuddle and pet you. You even came in the house for a short visit and a handful of kibble at 10pm. But you wanted back out. And I watched you disappear into the bushes again. I saw a streetlight reflect off your silky tail once, but then you were gone.
"I love you, Bob," I said to the night. The crickets whispered back. I know you heard me.
I know you will be back tomorrow. I know we will continue to build a relationship. I don't know where it will lead. Probably one of us will have a broken heart. Maybe it was already you since you weren't the first cat in my house.
"I love you, Bob," I say again out the upstairs window as I check to see if you've changed your mind.
That will have to do for a blessing. Hopefully my love is big enough to protect you in la vida loca. Hopefully my love gets the attention of Ceiling Cat who can watch over you, too.
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