Last May. I was chosen. My back patio was neglected, I hadn't been gardening, I didn't even go out there often, except to take out the trash and chase off the racoons. It was perfect. Behind some plastic storage bins that I never moved, this little girl, gray and quick as a ghost, stowed her 5 babies. One day I heard my next door neighbor out on my patio. She told me she had been feeding the brood and holding the kittens. I wasn't sure that was the right thing, they were so young, about 5 weeks or so by the looks of them, all big heads and pointy little tails. And the mommy was so small, so thin, yet fierce. Noone could touch her, she'd growl then bolt if anyone came near her. I thought, for sure, she's gonna move those kids. She won't keep them here if folks keep disturbing them. And the last thing I wanted was to encourage a bunch of wild cats up on my patio.
Over Memorial Day weekend, my neighbor thought she had found someone to adopt one of the kittens. I was happy that there'd be one less. But again, I thought Mommy would move the rest of them; she didn't. Unfortunatly, the kitten was brought back. I found myself enraged.
What kind of world is this where people dump cats like trash? What makes them think they can survive safely in the woods, like squirrels? Don't people realize that we cause the feral cat "problem"? They wouldn't be out there if we'd be more thoughtful when choosing to have a pet or not, if we understood and complied with the responsibilities of pet guardianship.
I had to do something.
I started feeding the mother, making sure she ate to support her nursing and put some weight on her. I asked my neighbors what they knew about the cats, when they had shown up, whether this girl had had other litters. By this time, I had become the primary "caregiver." I made sure she had fresh water all the time. And when her kids seemed interested in the food, I put out more. I named the kittens - first Sparky; then Spike, the feisty one who hissed and spit; Speedy, the fast one with white boots like sneakers; Spud, the fat, round one; and Oscar the black and white one that didn't look like anyone else. Then I named Mommy - Buttercup. The beginning.
As Buttercup started to trust and even like me, she decided my patio was her home base. She brought Darwin, her wild sister, and Bob, and I got overwhelmed with feeding 6 cats (2 of the kittens had been taken in, so there were now 3 kittens and three adults.) I was turning into a crazy cat lady!
I called every resource I could find locally: Yes, I believed the mother could be socialized. No, I wasn't willing to do the socializing, I had an older, diabetic cat. No, I wasn't willing to foster the kittens, same reason. If I knew then what I do now: It doesn't take much more than will and energy. Resources can be found, for shots, checkups, flea and worming medications, food is relatively cheap, and love, if you have it, is what matters most.
I took in Bob. I was able to find a home for Spike, who grew into a sweetie. When Darwin had her litter, my neighbor and I shared fostering duties later that summer for the six rugrats, who all found homes (2 with my neighbor! Thanks, Linda.) I bought a humane trap, trapped Darwin, and got her tested, altered, and dewormed. And (after she brought them to me!) I took in Buttercup's latest bunch, born in late summer.
What have I learned: You can love and care for more than one cat at a time. There's a difference between wild and feral. You do what you can, that's a start.