Nearly twelve years ago (December 2009), I looked out the window and saw two little kittens and a mama cat in our flower bed. They were probably dumped on the road near our house. They may have been living on their own for a couple of weeks by the time I saw them and were scared to death of everything. I tried to catch them, but they would run away whenever I got too close.
I put food out on our front porch every morning and every evening. I could see out the window that they were eating the food. I studied up on feral cats and found a website called Alley Cats which told about something called TNR (Trap.Neuter.Return). I decided I would try to trap them so they could be checked out and neutered. I bought a couple of traps, borrowed a third one, and set them up. It made me so absolutely nervous because I realized that I would probably only have one chance to get all three.
I set the three traps up on my front porch and hoped for the best. I was so elated when a couple of hours later I had a cat in each of the traps. We put them in the garage to wait for morning. I took the traps into my veterinarian's office. The cats were checked out, neutered/spayed, and given various immunizations. The vet's office transferred them into some large crates I brought them, from when my standard poodles were small.
Luckily I had a Suburban and when I put the seats down I was able to transport all three crates home. They had to stay in their crates for 24 hours before I could let them out.
Each year I would go through the process of getting them in a crate and taking them off to the vet for their annual exams.
The little cat family continued to stay around and I continued to feed them twice a day. When I would go out of town, I would hire a pet sitter or ask my neighbor to feed them for me.
After nearly ten months of daily feeding, I was finally able to touch them softly while they were eating.
A long, slow process of trust was beginning.
One year we screened in our patio to save us from stray golf balls and mosquitoes. I could prop both screen doors open so the cats would have a safe place to get out of inclement weather. They seemed to enjoy that.
Because they were still free to come and go, one night in April of 2014, Socks (the female kitten) disappeared. I was so upset. I put signs up and hunted for her far and wide. Eventually, I realized that she was probably killed by a coyote when she ventured outside the fence.
During the years, I seemed to "collect" lost and dumped cats, which I then trapped to get "fixed." There was Gray (who was found dead in a neighbor's yard a few weeks later, of an unknown cause), there was Socks (who disappeared in 2014), Mama Cat (who died of cancer in my arms in 2019), there was Rags (who was killed by a fox, also in 2019), and then there was Oreo, Midnight and Pepper. Each year I would go through the process of getting them in a crate and taking them off to the vet for their annual exams.
When Rags was killed by a fox early one morning and Midnight was visibly shaken, I decided that I couldn't take these "killings." So.... I decided to put the remaining cats in my screened porch permanently.
The first night I lured them in and closed the doors, they were quite upset when they realized they couldn't get out. That night, Midnight "busted" out through the cardboard I had put over the screen door.
The next day, I went to the hardware store and purchased some "cat proof" screens and hired a guy to attach them to the two doors. Then I crossed my fingers that the rest of the screen was strong enough to withstand their attacks.
After about a month, they all settled down and seemed to adjust to their new life. Each morning and each evening, I open the door to the house and let them come in. Oreo and Pepper were always the first ones to charge in and run around the house to get exercise. Midnight was much more frightened of everything. He eventually comes in, just more cautiously.
Oreo seemed to really like the house. He explored and ran up and down the stairs. Most mornings, he would jump up into my lap while I was eating my breakfast.
Even though Oreo loved the house and being able to sit in my lap, he still loved his "catico." He would sit by the fire on cold nights, watch out the big screen windows at the birds, or just move around and try out the various beds and hide-outs.
Oreo was my "vocal" cat. He would call out to me when he thought it was time to open the door and let him in. He would call to me when he thought it was time for a short nap in my lap. He would "yell" at Midnight and Pepper when they were in his way.
When he began to get sick, he often curled up in his "igloo" bed. His "vocals" were less frequent. He basically stopped eating most foods. I offered him ten different "wet" foods in the beginning, including tuna and sardines which he would smell and walk away. After that I ended up rotating 28 different dry foods.... six at a time. That kept him eating for more meals, until there was nothing left for him to try.
I miss that little "boss," and I hate the silence.
RIP my little buddy.
