Meet our feral cats, Patches, Poppy, Inca and Chesster
Having lived in the San Francisco Bay Area 'burbs for some 30 years, we never really met many feral cats, if any... Sure, on occasion, a neighborhood cat would come over and give the place a walk-around, or peek into the window at our spoiled guys basking in the sun, but that hardly qualified as "stray." So, it was a big mystery to me to know what to do when we moved to the country and these feral guys and girl meandered over to our rural "spread," lurked in the shadows, coming out mainly in the safety of the night's darkness to warily eat the food that we left out for them. I'd like to introduce them...
Patches, the brown and white patch tabby girl
Patches with her big beautiful green eyes.
I fell in love with this gentle girl, so very demure and proper. With time she seemed to enjoy having a human friend. Patches has a great appetite, a pretty, musical voice which she uses, and seems to have some secret, safe spot in our one-and-only-next-door-neighbors' yard, with its attractive koi-pond, huge variety of roses, dahlias, and other colorful flowers, soothing running water feature, huge lush lawn, and best of all, total privacy. Patches reminds me of an aby because she was won over by good eats and good lov'n! Luckily, by the time I had gained her trust to be able to pick her up, which took many months, she had never had any kittens. Perhaps she was an abandoned spay ... all I know is how lucky for us that she landed in our yard and our lives.
Sweet little Poppy, the name derived from her popping up and down at the cattery window to be let in.
Poppy on one of her first days in the big house.
After we had been here a few months, I noticed one day that the aby's were all at the cattery window, looking out at something very very fascinating to them. When I went to see what the commotion was about, I was shocked to see the teeniest kitten leaping up and down at the window, SCREAMING to be let in with the other cats! Her brave insistance was so funny and so amazing that I had to rescue this little girl... instead of being afraid, she knew where the good life was, and where there was danger, a simple choice in her mind. Let me in! After taking her to the vet to have her tested for feline leukemia, treated for fleas, and given a clean bill of health, Poppy came to live with us in our home. She has never once wanted to go outside again, though she enjoys looking at the familiar places she had to survive in, now able to enjoy the beauty, safely inside.
Poppy, settling in and starting to appreciate the good life.
Inca, furtive relative of Patches, but lower on the totem pole
My apologies to Inca for using this female black cat understudy... to be replaced as soon as I can get a decent photo of the real Inca!
Inca, a big luxurious medium-long coated black cat wtih a teeny spot of white on his chest, was one of those late night food bowl prowlers. He shared the food with all sorts of creatures.... the surprisingy "handsome" mole, some brave, adventurous birds that took a liking to cat food, a never ending stream of slugs (ugh, making sure the bowls were washed daily) a random dog, and who knows what else, when I was fast asleep. For a year, I mainly heard Inca... he would let Patches scout out the territory and as if she had given him the coast-is-clear signal, he would either utter the teeniest of meows, a kitten's meow, really, and yet it was quite clear by his size and demeanor that he was a great big huge mature intact cat...or he would wait in the bushes until I went back into the house. One evening Inca appeared to be quite beaten up, and I just figured, mind over matter, I HAD to scoop him up and get him to ER to have his wounds looked at. I did just that... When I told the ER vet that I could not really vouch for Inca's behavior having just successfully gotten that close to him myself, Dr. Steve and I were both very surprised to see how sweet Inca was, and how he let us pet him, hold him, and inspect him as if he were not feral at all. It bothered me to release Inca later than evening, as I wasn't sure whether he would return and how close he would let me get the next time he did. But, luckily, that night, he had his wounds dressed, an antibiotic long lasting Convenia shot, a few stitches, some flea treatment and off he went into the night. I was determined that the next time I got that close and could figure out how to do it, he was going to become a neutered boy... but how to manage THAT?
Chesster, the old black and white guy that reminds me of a bulldog who's been around the block or two.
Chesster, a wise old guy who won me over with his patient persistence
Chesster, spelled funny because he is black and white like chess pieces, was a bit of a late comer. When I first saw him "bothering" Patches, and reallly itching for a fight with poor, timid Inca, I really disliked that cat. I would sorry to say, for the protection of my other feline friends, try to shoo him off, even shout at him to go away. But, he just stood there, staring at me, or sitting down, paws in front of him, as if he were a statue or a cat with the patience of Job. In the evenings, I heard many a cat fight and I was so afraid that one of those three was going to get hurt... or worse. The neighbors, good hearted people but not crazy cat lovers like some of us, mentioned that sometimes at night they heard loud fighting noises outside their windows... that awakened them.. This scared me.
In spite of Chesster being the odd cat out, he seemed very "street/country savvy" and would come around and eat left-overs, better than nothing. Little by little, I started worrying when Chesster didn't show up. Had he been hit by one of those great big farm produce trucks that passed by in the night? I heard gunshots, had someone decided Chesster was a nuisance and shot at him? There were noises from the yips and yaps of coyote's from time to time, had he gone into their territory in search of food, but ended up their dinner? Well, clearly, with time, he had won a spot in the food lineup too. When one of my aby girls got out one day and I was running after that crazy as a banshee girl leaping and twirling through the air like an acrobat, Chesster just sat on the sidelines taking it all in without any attempt to harm her, pursue her, breed her. He'd won me over. Now the issue was how to get TWO feral boys to the vet when they avoided each other like the plague unless they were fighting. I'd never gotten very close to Chesster before so what to do?
After the vet told me that any time I could bring the feral boys in he would neuter them that very day, one day as Inca and Chesster stood 10 feet away, semi glaring at one another while eating their meals, I made my move, grabbing first Inca and carrying him to the building where I had my carriers. Surprise! No scratches, nothing. Chesster was next, and again, nothing bad happened! A night at the vet's before their big day, two leukemia panel test, both NEGATIVE, some extra surgery for Inca who had an entropian (eyelash poking his eyeball, ouch), some antibiotics, two neuterings, 3/1 vaccinations, a lot of staff petting and attention, another night at the vet's, a ride home and here we are, the three "ferals" and me... Inca is grateful his eye doesn't hurt him, Chesster feels a little annoyed with me. Patches still hisses at both of them, but, hopefully, they will live out their lives in greater peace and harmony once the hormones are less raging... now both boys come to eat at the same time, Inca doesn't slink around, less posturing all around, Patches still rules the roost and seems to think there's something a bit different now about those boys... I love them as much I can love any cat, and that is with all my heart.
In spite of Chesster being the odd cat out, he seemed very "street/country savvy" and would come around and eat left-overs, better than nothing. Little by little, I started worrying when Chesster didn't show up. Had he been hit by one of those great big farm produce trucks that passed by in the night? I heard gunshots, had someone decided Chesster was a nuisance and shot at him? There were noises from the yips and yaps of coyote's from time to time, had he gone into their territory in search of food, but ended up their dinner? Well, clearly, with time, he had won a spot in the food lineup too. When one of my aby girls got out one day and I was running after that crazy as a banshee girl leaping and twirling through the air like an acrobat, Chesster just sat on the sidelines taking it all in without any attempt to harm her, pursue her, breed her. He'd won me over. Now the issue was how to get TWO feral boys to the vet when they avoided each other like the plague unless they were fighting. I'd never gotten very close to Chesster before so what to do?
After the vet told me that any time I could bring the feral boys in he would neuter them that very day, one day as Inca and Chesster stood 10 feet away, semi glaring at one another while eating their meals, I made my move, grabbing first Inca and carrying him to the building where I had my carriers. Surprise! No scratches, nothing. Chesster was next, and again, nothing bad happened! A night at the vet's before their big day, two leukemia panel test, both NEGATIVE, some extra surgery for Inca who had an entropian (eyelash poking his eyeball, ouch), some antibiotics, two neuterings, 3/1 vaccinations, a lot of staff petting and attention, another night at the vet's, a ride home and here we are, the three "ferals" and me... Inca is grateful his eye doesn't hurt him, Chesster feels a little annoyed with me. Patches still hisses at both of them, but, hopefully, they will live out their lives in greater peace and harmony once the hormones are less raging... now both boys come to eat at the same time, Inca doesn't slink around, less posturing all around, Patches still rules the roost and seems to think there's something a bit different now about those boys... I love them as much I can love any cat, and that is with all my heart.
Patches, my forever friend, great huntress and lover of nature
I do not advocate keeping cats outside. I want my kittens to be inside only cats, and not go outside, because it is not safe there in general. These feral farm cats, once tested and with their clean bills of health would be welcome inside but they do not want to change their lives so drastically. In the winter, they can go into our outbuilding to avoid the elements, and I will soon be getting them bales of straw to burrow into, should they want to. They already know where to get their chow and conversation.
Update: This is extremely difficult for me to say, but not long after the neutering, about 3 weeks, Inca came limping back to me, part of his chin was missing, a broken canine tooth was hanging from his mouth, his mouth was stuck in an open position and he was missing all 3 other canine teeth. He had met with some terrible accident, most likely a car, and had been gone for 6 days. I grabbed him, took him to ER that night and to our vet the next day. He required cosmetic surgery, removal of the hanging tooth, xrays (his jaw was broken) and some R&R at the vet's. He is now home with us, he will not make it outside any more. Luckily, he is happy at last to not have to hunt for his food, battle the elements like freezing temps and snow and/or rain and the cars on the busy highway in front of our home. He is the "lucky" one.
Chesster suffered a much worse fate. The day after Christmas, about a week before I was going to bring him in to be with the cattery cats where he wanted to be, as soon as his hormones had quieted down after his neuter surgery, a neighbor came to our door with the bad news that they had found poor beloved Chesster in the median area of the highway, lying there dead. This has been one of the most painful cat losses I have ever felt, I see him everywhere, hear him everywhere, think of him as though I had lost my best friend. I've never loved a cat more than Chesster and his memory and the guilt of not saving him before it was too late will be with me forever. This is the life of a feral cat: dangerous, unknown, unpredictable, and often way too short.
Update: This is extremely difficult for me to say, but not long after the neutering, about 3 weeks, Inca came limping back to me, part of his chin was missing, a broken canine tooth was hanging from his mouth, his mouth was stuck in an open position and he was missing all 3 other canine teeth. He had met with some terrible accident, most likely a car, and had been gone for 6 days. I grabbed him, took him to ER that night and to our vet the next day. He required cosmetic surgery, removal of the hanging tooth, xrays (his jaw was broken) and some R&R at the vet's. He is now home with us, he will not make it outside any more. Luckily, he is happy at last to not have to hunt for his food, battle the elements like freezing temps and snow and/or rain and the cars on the busy highway in front of our home. He is the "lucky" one.
Chesster suffered a much worse fate. The day after Christmas, about a week before I was going to bring him in to be with the cattery cats where he wanted to be, as soon as his hormones had quieted down after his neuter surgery, a neighbor came to our door with the bad news that they had found poor beloved Chesster in the median area of the highway, lying there dead. This has been one of the most painful cat losses I have ever felt, I see him everywhere, hear him everywhere, think of him as though I had lost my best friend. I've never loved a cat more than Chesster and his memory and the guilt of not saving him before it was too late will be with me forever. This is the life of a feral cat: dangerous, unknown, unpredictable, and often way too short.
