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IN THE BEGINNING
There Were Kittens
I got involved with feral cats by circumstances. One day, while doing some yard work in the 'back 40', my dog became interested in some vines covering an old tree stump. I lifted the vines to see what had gotten her attention and four blue eyes peered up at me. Those two kittens spit and hissed at me for all they were worth. I guessed them to be about 4 weeks old.
I didn't see Mom around so I covered the kittens back up and kept and eye out for her. Later, I saw a skinny nursing mother approach the area. I put some food and water out for her and began to look out for the young family. The ferals were based on a nearby property and migrated to advantageous spots as the opportunity arose- so they gathered.
Winter drew near, the kittens grew, the mom disappeared and I now had a passel of cats to consider.
I went to the thrift shop, bought a telephone table with no drawer for 5 dollars. I set it on its side, filled it with straw and set about studying these feral creatures. We have been through many housing adjustments, spay/neuterings and vaccinations since those first days. We have added to the feral community with other colonies and all live in relative harmony as neighbors.
Twenty four years later, Grace, the solid ginger and one of the
two kittens from the stump, is still with me.. She is the remaining
survivor of the now Senior Colony; she is cherished and has
great status.
She has moved indoors and only goes outside on warm
afternoons to sit in the sun for a bit.
So, again, back to the early days, I knew nothing of spay/neuter programs and though, "if cats are going to collect here, they will be neutered and healthy. I paid for the first 15-20 neuterings and rabies shots out of my pocket before I learned there were programs that could assist. Also knew nothing about caring for the infants until one day, I went outside to see that a nursing mother had moved a
litter into my yard. As I approached the pile of
kittens, they all leapt away and ran except for
one at the bottom of the pile.He had infection
in his eyes. They were gummed up and
sealed shut with infection. He was also skin and
bones. I could count his ribs. He was unable to see
me there and could not keep himself out of harm's
way or even, I suspected, compete for the nipple.
I picked him up and brought him inside. I had no
idea what to feed him or how to care for him.
I turned to the internet and YouTube as my first
go-to for information. I learned a few basics-
Cats are lactose intolerant and a fragile infant
or elder can die from the effects of dairy products.
I learned that I could use a small syringe to get
the appropriate formula into him. The first time
he felt the end of the syringe in his mouth with
warm fluid in it, he wrapped his little paws
around the no-needle syringe and tried
desperately to hang onto it. I also learned
that he had no history of sight. I put him
on the couch with me and could see that
he didn't fall off the couch because he was wobbly or disoriented. He walked off the couch because he had no understanding of depth perception or that what he was standing on was about to end. He must have had infected eyes for the entirely- four or so weeks- of his life. He stayed inside, was my first bottle baby and became my beloved Jackson (above).
