We are not cat people.
At least, that’s what we’ve said for more than a decade.
But somehow…we always seem to have members of the feline family claim us. We’ve cared for 18 strays since 2009—fed them, had them neutered/spayed, found them homes. We never bring any in to live because, well, we are not cat people.
However.
Our most recent pounce of cats was a litter of five from a momma we called “Loretta.” She was definitely feral—we’d seen her in the neighborhood for a couple years, could never catch her, she stayed a safe distance from us, then one day…. she came waddling to our back yard, belly hanging low while she sniffed for food. We knew what that meant.
Her coat was dull and her eyes matte-looking. No shine anywhere. She was malnourished. Pitiful. Even though I’m not a cat person, I began setting out cans of salmon, tuna, sardines, and kitten food. I caught her eating only at night, when she’d emerge from the woods behind us and eat like someone was going to take it from her. This went on a week or two then we didn’t see her for a month. I wondered if she’d been hit by a car, taken in by someone, or had chosen another house to frequent for her meals.
But then, from my laundry room window one sunny spring day, I see Loretta emerging from the woods…with five kittens in tow. I immediately thought, “Oooh, no.”
Keep in mind, we’d been taking care of The Jerk (a.k.a. “Wally”) for almost a year. Black Bombay who gladly ate the food we gave him while despising our very presence. We’d put his food out on the wall (hence the name) and he’d come hiss at us, then eat. He was a butthead. We didn’t need another cat, much less five of them—or six if Loretta hung around.
So it begins.
Those babies were helpless. Tiny. Mewing. And adorable. The closest I could get was 10 yards, but I watched them intently through Robbie’s binoculars. I supplied their food & water daily for about three weeks, watched them grow, and noticed Loretta staying to the side…a “hmph” look on her face, combined with a “I will cut you if you get any closer” glare. I made sure they never went without. No animal will be hungry if I have anything to do with it. Even cats.
But one day, they weren’t there anymore. I went out there, yelled for them, and saw no activity. I fretted. Worried a coyote had gotten them, or they’d been run over, or…or….
For three days I continued their feeding routine—food was eaten nightly, but I assumed it was a raccoon or our possum Edgar XV (again, another post) that had enjoyed the meal. On the fourth day, as I walked back to the house from their eat-on-feet delivery, I noticed activity by the butterfly bush at the garage. There they were, little orange, white, and grey balls of fluff, Loretta sitting on the wall watching them. She was bringing them to us because she trusted us. Or at least that’s what I told myself.
But dang. A litter. And we’re not cat people.
They took up residence in our garage, and I’ll admit, we made for a cushy experience. Except for Loretta, we had them all trapped, neutered/spayed, and released (thank you, Sarah & Twin County Humane Society!) Loretta was just too elusive, and I hate we couldn’t get her, too, bless her heart.
Byg Stuph the Lover
I started getting cold & asked Robbie if he thought she’d be disturbed if he put a blanket over me.
She wasn’t.
Her purrs emanated a Roush-like quality, and I found myself adjusting my breathing with hers. She snuggled…warmed my lap…and purrrrrred. I started to relax with her.
Over the course of 90 minutes, Byg Stuph napped like she’d probably never napped before. I could run my thumb over her nose, hold her paw in my hand, play with her toes, and she continued to snooze. I never thought cats did this. I never considered them snuggle bugs. But here she was, relishing it all, belly-to-belly with me, and it hit me that she knew I could be trusted–my thick, Mac & Bob’s sweatshirt adding to her comfort. Not only that, she liked my company.
Pretty huge stinkin’ feat for a cat.
And for me.
Her sister Blanca crouched at the open door, watching the whole time. Delusions of grandeur overtook and I imagined both of them, snuggled and purring on me. They’re a bonded pair (of course) and I so want her to experience the same affection her sister receives. I called for her, but she gave me the cat-finger and turned her butt toward me.
One step at a time.
Had it not been bedtime and I had to get up from the couch, I think Byg Stuph would have stayed there until morning. We have a thing, she & I (Blanca & I will, too—I promise). If Loretta ever visits again, I want to tell her I am honored that she trusted us with her babies. We gotcha, Loretta. Your babies are safe, warm, fixed, inoculated, and loved with us…even though we’re not cat people.
Thank you, sweetheart. We hope that you’ve found a safe place of your own. Byg Stuph & Blanca will be sure to have a long, cushy life together, and we’ll forever mention you as “that momma” who gave them to us.
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