Half The Battle

Sassy is caught.  I used a piece of lunch meat and a little deceit to get her into the pet taxi.  She's now on the screened porch awaiting her appointment.  I hope and pray nothing is seriously wrong with her.  I'm hoping all she needs is another round of ringworm meds to be fine.  Please keep praying.

Tomorrow's Challange

Dr House was completely booked today, so we had to make Sassy's appointment for tomorrow.  I decided to give my plan a trial run today.  I set the pet taxi, door opened, near the feeding area.  I tore off a small piece of lunch meat and gave it to her.  On the third tear, I threw the piece of lunch meat into the pet taxi.  She went in after it!  This gives me hope.  If she does this tomorrow, all I have to do is close the door, and she'll be ready for the vet.  Wish us luck, and keep us in your prayers.  I really want her to be ok.

More Worries

Shortly before Thanksgiving of last year, we noticed an itchy skin problem on Sassy, one of our more skittish  ferals.  Because she is still pretty wild, I knew getting her in to see the vet would be difficult and expensive.  As I watched her, I made a home diagnosis, based on a past experience with Monroe.  He had developed an itch, and had begun to lose hair on areas of his face.  Since he's friendly and cooperative, we were able to take him to the vet for a proper diagnosis.  It was ringworm, which we successfully treated with liquid oral medication, mixed by our local apothecary. The patches on Sassy's skin looked, to me, exactly like the ones on Monroe.  I called Dr House, and explained what was going on with Sassy, and let him know she was wild. Knowing that I could never give her liquid medicine, I asked if that same medicine was available in pill form (Sassy will not let me hold her or pet her, but she will take a piece of lunch meat from my hand). Dr House looked into it, and found that the pill form is very expensive, so he had the apothecary make some capsules for us.  I've been giving her these capsules, wrapped in lunch meat, for the past 30 days or so.  She had stopped scratching her face, reducing the amount of crusty skin areas on her face.  I was delighted, thinking that I'd made the correct diagnosis, and she was going to feel better.  This past week, I noticed she was scratching again, and by Saturday, she had another scab on her face.  Her medicine is gone, and we don't want to buy more unless we're sure the problem is, indeed, ringworm.  That means a vet visit.
So tomorrow, we're going to call Dr House's office to see if he has time to deal with a completely uncooperative feral cat.  THEN, we have to see if we can catch her.  He's probably going to have to sedate her to examine her which is an added expense, and a health concern for a cat her age.  I really need your prayers.  Because of all the recent losses among my feral cats, I'm very nervous and scared.  I hope and pray that this is just a case of ringworm, as I originally suspected, or something equally treatable.  I don't want to lose another cat.  She may not be very cuddly and friendly, but she's part of my family just as much as the friendly ones.  I love her very much.

Corrections

While looking through the pet forums at davesgarden.com, I found several feral cat  threads I'd started long ago. I remember going to these fellow members for advice and encouragement when I first started TNR for the ferals. I was able to used the dates of these threads to correct the dates and some of the information below.

Still With Us

The last couple of weeks have been very difficult for me.  I've been trying to accept a new normal and move on, while still in a state of grief, even denial.  I've developed some habits and routines during my years of working with feral cats that I'll probably never break.  Keeping with these routines while fewer cats greet me is very hard.  It seems to be a constant reminder of all I've lost.  I've decided to create this picture post, not only to reintroduce my feral cats to my readers, but also to remind myself of what I still have.  I will continue to grieve each cat and kitten I've lost, but for just one moment, I'd like to focus on the seven remaining ferals in my life.

Scruffy was born in 2004, the offspring of Sophie.  I think he's one of the most beautiful cats I've ever seen.

Monroe, born in 2004, was the offspring of Ms Grey and litter mate to Tigra and Scary Cat.  He's become friendly enough that he's now an indoor/outdoor pet.  He has lots of personality, and many quirky habits which keep us laughing all the time. Love him so much.

Sassy was born in 2004. She was the offspring of a mama cat that was just passing through.  She's pretty skittish and wild, but will trust me enough to take a piece of lunch meat from my hand.

Booger Bear is another offspring of Ms Grey.  He was born in 2005.  Dave named him Booger because of the brown spot on his nose, but I added the Bear.  I just couldn't make myself call anything Booger.

Jake, also an offspring of Ms Grey, was born in 2005, and was a litter mate with Booger Bear.  He is a strange cat, in that he's friendly, but only on his terms.  He found himself a less crowded territory down the street, but comes home every evening for a short indoor visit.  Then he heads back down the street.  When it's cold outside, he spends more time with us.

Tabitha (or Tabby) was born in 2006.  She is the offspring of Sophie, and the sole survivor of the last litter born to my feral colony.  She's very friendly, and has become another indoor/outdoor pet.  

Shadow is the only cat that isn't an offspring to one of my ferals.  He wondered up to our food trays one day in 2008, and decided to stay.  At first, he was aggressive, but that didn't last.  After weeks with nobody asking after him, we assumed he was ours.  We took him to be neutered, treated for fleas and ear mites, and he settled in nicely.  He is now one of the friendliest cats we have, making it hard to get a good picture of him.  He just wants to rub his face on the camera. lol

So there we have my seven surviving feral cats.  They, along with my 6 indoor pets mean the world to me.  I hope they're all with me for many years to come.

Visit From An Old Friend

Well, wonders never cease.  Dave took me out to eat today, and over to our new yarn store to spend the rest of my Christmas money.  We got home somewhere between two and three, which is the time I feed my cats their daily canned food treat.  As I was gathering bowls together, I glanced out the back window, and I couldn't believe my eyes.  Ms Grey, one of the ferals cats that lived here when I first married, was eating at my dry food tray.  Wow!  She was one of my trap savvy cats, and very hard to catch.  She had two litters each year, making her responcible for half my herd, but we finally caught her. 
It was February of 2006.  I guess she'd been eating somebody's leftovers, because she had somehow gotten a chicken bone stuck in her back teeth, which made it impossible for her to close her mouth.  At the time I didn't know it was a chicken bone, I just knew she couldn't close her mouth.  I desparately tried to catch her for a whole two weeks, then an idea hit me.  I began to notice that she had been eating mostly canned food because dry food or lunch meat fell right out of her mouth.  I placed a bowl of canned food inside the pet carrier.  When she went in after it, I closed the door.  Knowing she'd never let our vet examine her, I asked the spay/neuter clinic if they check her mouth after they put her under.  When I picked her up the next day, they informed me that she'd had a chicken bone stuck in her back teeth. They had removed it, and she was fine.  I borrowed a dog kennel from my Dad to keep her contained while I gave her antibiotics.  I had to mix it with her food, and I couldn't have kept her food separate if she'd been set free.  I released her as soon as I could. 
I was a little scared she'd run away in anger, and never come back, but she didn't.  She remained a part of the colony for another year.  It was about that time, when a large male cat wondered up.  He was very dominate, and chased away several of my cats, including her.  He was as sweet as could be to people, but he was a bully to other cats.  After he was neutered, he calmed down, but by then she had left to find a less cranky territory.  I'd see her occasionally, but she never stayed.  Eventually, she stopped coming around.
Seeing her today was like a ray of light in a dark period of my life.  She is more skittish, but she didn't run away when I took out the canned food.  She wouldn't allow me to pet her, but that's pretty normal for her.  I did touch her a time or two while she was preoccupied with food.  She must have a regular source of food, because she didn't seem to be overly thin.  Her hair is thinning in areas where I noticed some scaly skin patches, Which looks to me like dermatitis caused by flea allergy.  I once had a cat that developed this allergy, and it looked exactly like what I saw on Ms Grey.
I'm still mourning my losses, but seeing Ms Grey somewhat eased that pain.  She was here from the very beginning in 2002, and even though she was young then, she was grown up enough to have kittens. If she's still alive at her age, I have to believe some of the others are out there somewhere as well.  Maybe our paths will someday cross again. 

My Cat Colony: An Emotional History

Yesterday, I managed to keep myself distracted with preparations for our annual watch night singing service at church.  We had our contribution to the meal to prepare, then getting ready, and finally the actual service.  God really was with me.  After the last few days, I shouldn't have been able to go, much less stand up and sing, but I managed.  It was a difficult start, but God helped me push my thoughts to the background, so I could enjoy, and contribute to the service.  Today is strange.  I seem to be going about my daily tasks with the automation of a robot.  No feeling at all, just existing.  I look outside and see only four cats eating, and I grieve as I remember and reflect on when this all began. 
I married Dave in October of 2002, then moved into his house. Several feral cats, fed by the neighbors lived in his yard.  At first, I didn't feed them.  I had seen in the past how out of hand feeding strays can get, and I wasn't sure if I was capeable of weathering the emotional turmoil of getting involved. Despite this resolve, being who I am, it wasn't long until I was very much involved.  It all began with a thin tortie I simply called Mama Cat.  I can't explain exactly why, but I just had a special place in my heart for her.  She reminded me of Freckles, one of the family cats, who remained with Mom after I married and moved away.  I loved her, and I wanted this cat that reminded me so much of her.  I began feeding her, and trying to win her trust.  I used to sit on the back porch and sing Sunday School songs hoping she'd get used to the sound of my voice.  As expected, other cats came for the food and stayed, among them were Fuzzy Wuz, Sophie, a gray tabby I called Ms Grey, just to name a few.  By the time Mama Cat's babies were old enough to eat solid food, I was convinced that I had won her trust.  My plan was to have her spayed, and make her my indoor pet (by this time I'd missed having a cat in the house).  I opened the back door, and left a bowl of food on the floor (this had become my habit, as I was trying to get her used to the house).  When she came in to eat it, I closed the door.  This was the first time she'd been indoors with the the door closed, and she didn't like it at all.  I held her in my lap and pet her as I called all the vets in town to see who could get her in to be spayed.  Poor thing had finally calmed down, only to be put into a pet taxi.  After she was spayed, and we were on our way home, I was excited.  I just knew she'd love being in a home with loving people to fawn over her. I was to be disappointed.
When we got home, I put the pet taxi on the floor and let her out.  She immediately hid.  Well, that's normal, right?  She had just been through a tramatic experience and needed time to her self.  When she had time to calm down, and realize she was safe, she'd come out and be happy.  That's what I told myself, but it didn't happen that way.  She stayed hidden during the day, then spent her nights searching for a way to escape.  After a few days of this, I felt so guilty that I had decided if she wanted outside that bad, then fine.  I'd let her out. I spent another few days trying to let her out.  It was so wierd.  I'd open the back door, but she was  so freaked out by  me that she wouldn't coming out of hiding as long as I was around.  Fine, I don't have to be around.  I started leaving the back door open each day as I went about my household tasks, but she still refused to come out as long as I was awake and moving about.  So much for winning her trust.  She obviously was miserable in the house, and had no desire to be a pet.  She desparately wanted out, but couldn't get passed her fears enough to find the door.  I felt so sorry for her that I finally asked my aunt (who had more experience working with strays than I had) for help.
Paula came over the next day, and after a thorough search, we found Mama Cat hiding under the dresser.  I removed the bottom drawer, and Paula sent me to open the back door, while she gathered Mama Cat in her arms.  We weren't trying to MAKE her go out, just showing her that if she wanted to, she was free to go out.  After placing her on kitchen floor where the open door was in view, Mama Cat chose to...Surprise...go out. She was much happier, but sadly, I had lost her trust.  Oh, she still hung around.  She still ate while I was out there, while most of the other cats waited until I was back in the house before they'd approch the food bowls. She even let me pet her some, but the special bond I'd built with her never fully recovered. (Wow, this makes me sad all over again at the memory).  As the colony grew, she moved on to a less crowded territory. I know this is true, because weeks later, on my way to Kroger, I saw her lounging across the top of a car in front of a house the next street over. As much as I missed having her, I have to admit some good came from all of this. Not only did I have the comfort of knowing Mama cat was no longer contributing to the vast number of homeless kittens, but this is when Abby and Annie joined our household.  I was so upset at my failed attempt to add pets to my life, that Paula offered, and Dave agreed, to let me choose a couple of pets from among her friendly barn kittens. 
By this time, the colony had grown.  Several cats (Fuzzy Wuz and Sophie included) found my yard to be a safe place, and plentiful source of food.  As kittens were born, the colony grew even more. By 2004, I had well over 25 cats and kittens (probably close to 30).  That was the year we decided to begin our TNR (trap, neuter, return) process.  If I remember correctly, we had over to 13 kittens born that year, and only a few of them survived.  I'm not the kind of person who can just toss out a few cups of food and forget it.  I actually worked with these cats.  I sat on the porch with them, talked to them, sang to them...they were a huge part of my life.  I desparately tried to nurse each sick kitten (the ones who wouldn't run away from me) back to health, and I mourned each death deeply.  Dave, after watching me desolve into a month-long period of depression, agreed to the decision to have the colony spayed/neutered.
It was a slow process.  Using a website called Ally Cat Allies, I found the Hopkins County Animal Protection League, a low-cost spay/neuter clinic located in Sulpher Springs.  God really blessed us, because this is where we found and adopted Merlin, and later Morty (my third and fourth indoor pets).  With the help of donations from online cat lovers who had learned of our plight, and a borrowed trap from my aunt Paula, we began our long, hard, but very rewarding task.  Starting in the spring of 2004, we trapped and took in two cats a week as we could afford it, until 2007, when Sophie, the last of the unspayed cats, walked into our trap.  Goal complete!
Over the years, I've witnessed subtle changes in the colony.  As the kittens and youths grew, some of them moved on to new territories, while the more dominate ones stayed.  Once in a while strangers wondered in, some just to eat, others to stay. Sadly, some have died. By the middle of 2007, the colony had stablized to a total of around 10-15 coming to eat at meal times, with about 7 staying, and living in our yard.  Many of the kittens, who were born out here, grew to trust Dave and me enough to be indoor/outdoor cats.  They'll never be happy as indoor only pets, but they love coming in the house short visits, and when it's cold outside. The adult cats, who didn't grow up trusting humans, began to relax around us as well.  Where they used to wait to approach the food trays until we went back in the house, they were now following us (which ever one of us happened to be feeding on each given day) to the food trays.  It was wonderful to watch these cats go from being hungry and scared to safe and content.  I always enjoyed Spring, because I spent it planting, and repotting as nosy ferals look on, and friendly ferals "help" me. This was my life, and I loved it!
The last couple of years I've watch my colony decrease.  I guess I should have expected this.  When cats are no longer producing offspring, their numbers are no longer growing.  They tend to stablize then eventually decrease.  I'm intelligent enough to know the facts, but I guess I was too emotional to accept them.  I had read a Cat Fancy article about ferals back when I first began all this. I don't remember the exact wording, but the article stated that the average life span of a feral cat is 3-5 years.  I have been doing this nine, and going on my tenth year.  Most of my cats had already outlived their expected lifetime, so had I convinced myself they'd be here forever?  Actually, I'd never thought about it. They were here, they were happy, and they were mine, and that's all that mattered.
Losing Fuzzy Wuz, Scary Cat, Sophie and Socks all in the same year, and Tigra just two months before that year began has forced me to face something I'd never before allowed myself to even think about.  The mortality of the colony.  The deaths of Fuzzy and Sophie marked the end of the original cats that began the colony.  I am now left with seven cats, among the offspring of those originals.  Two of those cats are Monroe (the son of Ms Grey, and litter mate of Scary Cat and Tigra) and Tabby (the sole survivor of the last litter Sophie gave birth to). Tabby and Monroe have become friendly enough that it's safe to call them pets. Jake (another of Ms Grey's kittens) comes around each evening for a short indoor visit, a bit of food, and sometimes a little nap, before going back down the street.  That leaves me with Sassy, Scruffy, Shadow, and Booger Bear, who still eat at the food bowls.  Four!  I'm thankful for all seven of these remaining cats, but I have to admit it was painful to take food outside, only to have four cats run up to me.  I have a big Tabby cat, who comes up in the evenings to glean what's left of the food, but he doesn't stay.
So today, I go about my normal routine, feeling numb.  I feel like a part of my life, and part of my very identity, is gone.  Not only do I mourn the loss of each cat, I also mourn the end of my normal.  What is my normal now?