THOUGHTS OF A FERAL CAT
I sit and watch as they put out food.
They see me but make no overtures, as they know I will run.
They seem to care, so I come each day and wait.
I can only hope that I will always be welcome,
If only from under a bush.
UNDER A BUSH
It sat under a bush, a small, thin ball of fur, and seemed to know instinctively that this was where it should be. I had watched the cat for several days, putting out food, hoping it would eat, and the third morning, there it was. I spoke softly as I placed the bowl on the lowest step, and going inside, I watched from the partially closed door. It took a week before it would stay under the bush and not run. It took another week before it began to trust me enough to let me watch from inside with the door completely open.
One morning, I opened the door to see a tiny flash of orange. She had kittens! I placed the food down and went back inside to watch. Slowly, she came up, tentatively followed by four kittens, one orange, one gray and white, and two orange and white. What a joy they became! I looked forward to seeing their tiny faces each morning and grew to love each one. They began to trust me, letting me touch them, if only for an instant.
As the weather was turning colder, my husband and I bought a sleeper for them – a large plastic crate that he cut a hole in, sealing it against the rain. We placed a large towel inside, first insulating it with newspaper underneath. Each day, we would replace the towel with a nice warm one from the dryer. They slept there all winter, safe from the wind, growing friendlier as time passed. Why didn't I take them in? We already had two cats that never went out, a dog, a bird, and two ferrets. Being new at the feral cat experience, I think we were afraid.
By spring, they were grown, sweet cats but only trusting us. The little female surprised me one morning with a litter of kittens that I promptly placed with a loving woman who had done cat rescue and lived on a mountain. What a perfect place. As time passed, the calico gave birth to another litter. I caught them, turning them over to the humane society and a local rescue group and the capable and loving hands of women who became mentors. I remain grateful for their knowledge and support.
I was able to trap the five cats that formed the “colony” and through the humane society, had them spayed/neutered and inoculated. The last litter that had been born before we could trap the mama became members of our household, loving reminders that although we could not take all, we could at least make a difference for some of them.
I remember, as a child, watching our Siamese cat give birth and wondering at the tiny, helpless forms that filled the bottom of a box my mother had put in her closet. We watched them grow, playing with them and falling more in love with them each day. When the time came for them to go, we cried, but knew that my mother had found special, loving homes for each one. Soon after that, she had Belle, our beloved cat, spayed. When asked why she replied that there weren't enough homes for all the kittens Belle would have. We took her at her word but would not understand until later in life when we had our own experiences with cats.
My two sisters and I have a special place in our hearts for all animals, but especially cats. We all have several each, my last count in my house was 10. We also take care of ferals whenever we find them, going out of our way to feed them and look after them as best we can.
We don’t look for a 'pat on the back'. We do what we do as a small appreciation for regal, beautiful creatures that don't ask for their lot in life and return love and affection whenever it is given, even from under a bush.
Barbara Chioffi
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