THE HERD (or my life with 15 Kats)

The summer we began our adventure in herding, I was also set to undergo carpal tunnel surgery on both of my hands. I chose this time frame because my choirs go on vacation over the summer, and my church responsibilities become less for awhile. But that summer, between surgery & recovery, kitty catching & domesticating, and vet visits, by the end of 2007, I felt that I had fallen way behind on my stack of magazines and other commitments. I worked as much as possible to make a dent in the pile of recipes I wanted to process, but made limited progress. I still had all my choir/church responsibilities to take care of, and had just started taking piano lessons that fall. Then it happened again the following summer, no not surgery, just the cat thing! By the time all the vet trips were completed, summer was over, and choirs were resuming. For awhile, I was actually struggling to keep up. I dared to wonder how my life had become so complicated. Then one look at the sea of upturned furry faces, and I knew.    

 I guess I never really thought about how long it takes to keep after kitties. Of course, I never personally had more than two cats myself, and we had a maximum of 4 (older cats) when we moved into the house. A few minutes to feed, pet, and clean litter boxes. After all, cats are pretty self contained pets. You don’t have to walk them several times a day like a dog, and if there are two of them, they can entertain each other right??? Don’t you believe it!

Especially when they were young, we had to not only feed them, and scoop litter boxes, but there was the socialization necessary to turn these wild kittens into loving, social creatures that will not bite and scratch every time you try to pet them. That required time to sit by the cage and talk softly so the terrified kitten can grow accustomed to human voices. Then carefully reach in to let that quivering nose take a tentative sniff of an outstretched hand. Eventually, to be allowed that careful pet, or even a head scratch, is a wonderful reward for patience I thought I did not have. We found that playing with the kittens by waving a kitty-play wand outside the cage was a good way to engage the kitten’s attention. Finally, that first time when the kitten trusts you enough to hold it, carefully, outside the cage, is just too wonderful for words. All this took a lot of time and effort. I guess after two summers, it was worth it, as of the 15 cats we rescued, only two are not fully socialized to humans. Both were the last kitten rescued in the summer, when we were already partitioning out less individual time per kitten, and after my fall responsibilities kicked in again. Even these two have their moments! I still hope that over time, we may make some progress.

Snickerdoodle seems almost comfortable to be in the same room with me. But he doesn’t like to be picked up and will draw back and hiss if he feels threatened. He really is a big baby, who runs and hides whenever the vacuum runs or doorbell rings. When he does have to visit the veterinarian, after a heart pumping chase around the house, I can usually manage to throw a towel over him and heft his 15+ pounds into a carrier. Invariably, he either pees or poops in the carrier. I usually don’t have to worry about collecting a stool sample for him!

Belle is very skittish, and will typically hide whenever we are around. At best, she stays under the chairs, or in one of the enclosed cat beds, where she thinks we cannot see her. The only time I get some interaction with her, is at meal times. She follows me to her special plate, and actually allows me to give her a couple of strokes as she chows down.       

Since we were able to have our feral females spayed in the Spring of 2009, we made it through an entire mating season with no new additions to our herd. And since all the cats have been as domesticated as we can get them, you would think I should have more time available for other activities. And this is somewhat true. I have been able to catch up on many of the cooking magazines that I subscribe to, but there is a huge stack of special issue publications I picked up along the way. I try to get work done, even this blog is done in sections, because the cats all must have their time. Sometimes, I swear they take numbers, because my desk is like a revolving door. One leaves, another takes its place.  Now, I know why I get nothing done.

The summer continued to wane, yet two kittens remained at risk in the big, wide world. The black kitten continued to be elusive, coming up at random times to eat and play. The light brown tabby often came along and they would chase each other around the pots and table legs. September passed by in a blur of resuming choir rehearsals, and other fall activities. I set up the trap cage as often as possible, and finally in late September, the sleek, black kitten slipped into the cage to grab a snack, and I was finally able to bring in my “black beauty”. I was very glad to have caught this one. On one of my stops at the local SPCA, I saw they had notices up that adoptions of black cats would not be finalized until a week or so after October 31^st. (Halloween) At least the little black kitten had been saved from any horrific treatment in the name of Halloween.

About a week later, I had a day off of work, and tried once again to trap the light brown tabby kitten. I was beginning to worry that we would never catch this one, as it was growing quickly. I knew the older the kittens were, the harder they would be to socialize. Finally, the kitten decided to take the plunge and entered my cage. Quickly I pulled the door closed, breathed a sigh of relief, and brought the last of Abby’s kittens inside. For most of our kitten collections, both my sister and I were available to escort the kitten downstairs to the big cage. For this one, I was home alone, Barb was at work but due home in about 2 hours. The little voice in my head told me to just let the kitten sit in the trap cage until she was home to help me make the transfer. Unfortunately, the louder voice in my head told me I could do it myself. Maybe it was because this kitten was older and more feral than the others, but I should have listened to the “little” voice. I had difficulty balancing the little cage close enough so the kitten could cross over by itself. So I decided to do a quick grab and transfer (remember Waldo?). Same idea, same result. The light brown tabby squirmed, scratched, and bit, managing to slip out of my grasp and make a dash for freedom. At least I had remembered to close the door, and the kitten could only hide. Of course, it had managed to discover what may have been the most inaccessible corner of the basement, behind the washer and dryer. Rather than try to re-trap the kitten on my own, I decided to block off the area and wait for reinforcements to arrive.

About 40 minutes later, Barb arrived and I told her “I have good news and bad news. Good news is that I caught the last kitten. Bad news is that it’s behind the dryer.” Took me awhile to live that one down. I set up the little cage at the front of the dryer and we made noises at the far end in the hopes the kitten would become scared and run blindly into the cage. But no luck. So I tried using a broom to shoo the kitten out. I hated to do that, as I was afraid it would really traumatize the little one, but I really had no choice. I ended up really “sweeping” the kitten forward into the trap cage, where Barb closed the door. We left the kitten in the cage to calm down a bit, then with Barb’s help we were able to hold the trap cage up to the big cage so the light brown tabby kitten could join the black one in the big cage.

Both kittens were quite skittish, and took great exception when we attempted to touch them. We decided to name the black kitten “Sabel”. I thought he was pure black, but he does have an occasional white hair or so that pops up in his coat. But you have to look really close. His eyes are green, as are most of Abby’s kitten’s. I was hoping they would change to orange or yellow, but no such luck. I had been calling the light brown tabby “Clarabelle”, and she was a little girl. But Barb said she saw a cow in her head every time I said the name, so we settled on just plain “Belle” for this kitten’s name.

Working with almost feral cats is challenging. Just getting them out of the cage into carriers for the first vet visit required some advance planning. We tried leaving them out to exercise in the stairway, as we had the others, but moving them about was such a challenge, that we eventually just left them out. It took Sabel a little bit, but he has actually adapted to living with humans quite nicely. He doesn’t like to be picked up or handled, but he most certainly does like to have his head scratched. Shortly before bedtime, he usually comes up on my computer desk and either sits there or flops down for his nightly rub-down. He has the biggest purr you can imagine, and is the biggest mooch in the whole herd. If he has the slightest idea that you are eating, he is right there. It doesn’t matter what it is, he has to be part of your mealtime. Check out Sabel’s Picture Gallery here.

Belle and I are still working on our relationship. She is a very lovely cat, the picture of her mother. One back foot is completely tan, while the rest of her coat is a light brown tabby stripe. Belle likes to play and romp with the other cats, but if Barb or I try to approach her, she will run away. She spends a lot of time hiding under my bed or at the bottom of the stairwell with Snickerdoodle. Occasionally, she would follow me around from litter box to litter box as I cleaned them, sometimes taking a hesitant sniff of my extended hand. Lately, I’ve gotten her to follow me to a “special” dinner plate. It is the same food the other cats are eating, but I put it at a distance and as she eats, I am able to pet her a couple of times. Since doing this, she has seemed a little more at ease with me, staying to give me that characteristically aloof sniff. We still have a long way to go, but I am hopeful we will come to an understanding. I do have pictures of Belle in her Gallery for you to look at.

Ok, that comes to 1 old cat (Pagos), 2 kittens from Tortie (Bianca & Petunia), 4 kittens from Brownie (Waldo, Odessa, Pepper-Ann, & Button), 1 drop-off kitten (Snickerdoodle), 1 kitten possibly from Gabby (Darwin), and 5 kittens from Abby (Sunny, Reno, Potsy, Sabel, & Belle), then 1 lost kitten (Button) makes 13 cats at one time. Since the title of this Blog is “my life with 15 cats”, the story is obviously not yet complete. Guess I’ll have to write one more introductory entry. Check back in a few days.

With the acquisition of Darwin and Sunny, we kept trying to catch the remaining four kittens of Abby’s family. The kittens continued to come up to the deck to eat and play. We really enjoyed watching them scamper through the vines growing up from below. The black kitten was a particular fascination for me. It was obvious the father was a big black stray that periodically came up to eat. Both appeared to be pure black, sleek and beautiful. We never had a black cat before, and I very much wanted to collect this little guy.

Unfortunately, the black kitten was very elusive, and refused to enter the cage. But the dark brown tabby and the gray and tan kitten were not so coy. One evening, first one, then the other, decided to grab a quick snack following a good session of play. The tiny gray and tan kitten entered first, and while it munched, the dark brown tabby followed. Before either could change their minds and leave, I pulled the door closed and two more kittens were retrieved. These were the kittens I had been calling Reno and Potsy. We kept them in the big cage together, until they were tested for Feline Leukemia, and given a clean bill of health by the vet. Once they seemed at least a little accustomed to being around humans, we released them to the house, hoping they would learn to trust us more through observing the actions of their brother, Sunny and cousin, Darwin.

Reno is a very soft, full-coated brown tabby boy with dark black and gray markings. He is of similar size and coloring as Darwin, and unless we saw their faces or recognized some other characteristic, it was (and continues to be) difficult to tell them apart. Often, we just referred to them as “stripy-kitten” as they flashed or rolled past. Reno loves to have his head and neck rubbed, and will ask for such attentions whenever and wherever he wants. Sometimes he stands on his back feet and stretches up, clinging to my knee. Other times he will sit beside me on the bed as I’m getting dressed in the morning. As you scratch his head, he stretches and inches his way on your lap or off the edge of the bed, to the point where he sometimes falls on his head, unless I sit there and support him. While his head is being rubbed, his mouth relaxes and his lips curl up. It looks like he is grinning in ecstasy. It is the most comical thing to see. In the dark, I can always identify Reno by petting him. As my hand runs down his back, after a few strokes, he folds his tail back over his body, so your hand does a loop-d-loop. Reno is a real sweetie-pie! Reno’s Picture Gallery.

The dark gray and tan kitten turned out to be a little girl, another dilute (or muted) calico. Potsy doesn’t have the white spots that Bianca and Petunia have, she is just gray and tan. I like to call her my “little clown face”. If you look directly at her face, it looks like nature drew a line right down the center, between her eyes, then again cross-wise across her face. Opposite quadrants are gray and tan. But with her dark eyes, Potsy is really pretty cute. At first, she stayed out of reach of me. But I kept working at it, and eventually managed to pet her a little bit, even picking her up once or twice. Now, while she still doesn’t like to be picked up, she does like to be petted. One of her favorite places for attention is the bathroom. She has also been known to sleep with me over the winter. Potsy is very tiny, one of the smallest in the herd, but she holds her own against the boys, and loves to chase and to be chased. If no one is around to play with her, she is quite happy to play with herself, and has often been observed going round and round in circles, chasing her own tail. I wonder if she ever caught it? Potsy’s Picture Gallery.