Published in the Tryon Daily Bulletin, April 27, 2018
I'd
been feeding a stray cat for months when I contacted the Animal Defense League
of Arizona to get on the waiting list to trap, neuter and release (TNR) my
little wild cat. By the time my turn came along (there's about a two-month wait
here), she was showing up daily, right on time for dinner.
I
called her Ratty Cat because when she first appeared she was in rough shape,
her long black fur in tatters. Regular meals revealed a beautiful cat, and
while she learned to tolerate me, she remained aloof, growling and hissing if I
came too close, even with a treat in my hand. I once held my hand out to her
carefully; she sniffed it and whacked it, leaving me with a scratch to remind
me she's feral.
I
felt confident I could trap her on a Tuesday to get her to her spay appointment
on Wednesday morning. Monday, she had kittens.
I
called my contact at the Animal Defense League and asked, "Now what?"
Even though it was April, the temperatures in Phoenix were already in the 90s,
and it even hit 100 that week. I was told the newborns don't usually make it
when it's over 90, so I went to work.
Paul
helped me remove a board from our backyard fence where tiny voices cried out.
Ratty Cat came flying out of her nest in the bushes behind the fence, leaving
three black kittens behind. As instructed, I placed the kittens in the trap and
waited to catch Ratty.
When
she didn't show up, we took a crash course (thank you, Google) in bottle-feeding,
and continued to leave the trap in place. At four a.m., I caught the wrong cat,
a beat-up black-and-white cat (rattier than Ratty at her worst), but had to
release it with a hope to catch it again someday after my kitten crisis had
passed.
By
four p.m. the following day, I was starting to panic, imagining myself
bottle-feeding around the clock for the next six weeks. When the trap door
fell, I was never happier to see that mean little face. I put Ratty's trap in
our guest bathroom right away, carefully lifting the trap door just enough to
put her kittens in with her.
The
following morning I lined up outside the vet clinic with the other cat
catchers. One woman had three traps; another man only had one because his other
one had caught a raccoon. "I once caught a chicken," the veteran cat
catcher lady said. They were all impressed with my mother and three bonus kittens.
I
left a travel crate with the clinic, and was relieved to find Ratty and her
babies safely inside when I picked them up that afternoon.
Thanks
to an internet full of people experienced in dealing with ferals and their
kittens, I had Ratty's new temporary home ready for her in my office, where our
cat-chasing dogs can't bother her. We set the travel crate with mother and
babies inside a larger wire crate with a litter box, food and water. When
changing Ratty's food, water and litter, we turn into puppeteers, opening and
closing the travel crate door with string and a yard stick so she can't fulfill
her promise to kill us.
It's
been ten days, and I still get growls, hisses and spits every time I freshen
her crate, but there was one glorious morning I got a quiet purr before she was
back to her usual threats that afternoon.
I
know things could still go wrong as kitten lives are fragile, but so far, they
seem fine. Now I'm looking down the road, hoping to find homes for the kittens (who
will be spayed and neutered, of course) and to be able to grant Ratty's wish
and free her back to her world but with a kitten-less future. Then she and I
can get back to our regular routine where I feed her and she lets me admire her
beauty as long as I don't get too close.
So,
who needs a kitten?
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