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Saga of a loose cat back on the loose
She's been called, at various times, "that white cat", "Mamacita", and
"Lady." Though my family and I have been acquainted with her for years,
it's probably too much to call her a friend. She's a squatter. She chose
our Linda Mar lot to squat on. Feral cats don't ask permission. They just
move in. They take advantage of weaknesses in the defense perimeter. They
probe the barricades.
My consciousness regarding her existence was raised when I became aware
there was a cat with a newborn kitten under my house. At some point when
the kitten was outside, I blocked the entrance. Memory fails me as to the
kitten's fate, but the cat hung around. Her morals, if such a word can be
applied to cats, were no better than you might expect, and soon another
litter was here. Our neighbors took on the responsibility and soon that
litter had found homes.
For most of its life as a local squatter, Mamacita, as we'd come to call
her, had survived without help from us. Whether she cadged food from one or
more neighbors, or lived on birds and rodents, I can't say. We've had cats
in the past. Johnny and Herbie, a couple of brothers, stayed with us for
several years, mostly due to the eloquence of my youngest daughter. Reecy
(or "Recycle" to give her her full name, came because my older daughter
thought Herbie needed a companion after Johnny died. Never have I or Lydia
decided we needed a cat and gone looking for one.
However, I knew we had a problem when Lydia started feeding "Mamacita." The
cat still refused to be touched, but she had no problem accepting Lydia's
contributions.
When the most recent litter showed up, (three of the cutest kittens that
have ever touched your heart) we knew something had to be done. I bought a
cat trap, but more important, my daughter-in-law introduced us to her
friend Peggy. Peggy is the best friend a feral cat could have. My trap was
not needed. She brought her own. The kittens were no problem. We picked
them up, petted them, gentled them. Mamacita was trapped, got loose in the
garage, was eventually re-trapped due to Peggy's expertise, stayed in a
large cage in our garage until the kittens were weaned, then was taken to
the vet.
The kittens found happy homes, and Mamacita stayed with Peggy at her home
while she recovered from the operation that made that title forever
superfluous. Feral cats may not be snuggly or pettable, but they do have
territories. My Linda Mar lot is home territory to this particular white
cat, who has now been renamed "Lady", honoring the fact that she will no
longer be sought out by local tomcats for the usual purposes.
I drove over to pick up Lady, and discovered the large cage was two inches
too tall for my car. It took two minutes to turn the cage on its side so it
would fit in my car. It took two-tenths of a second for the cat to discover
that the newly exposed wire grid on the bottom was just big enough to go
through, and it took her about two seconds to find a hiding place in
Peggy's garage.
Lady eventually got hungry, allowed herself to be retrapped, and has now
been returned to my yard. It's unlikely she'll ever be a friend, if by
friend is meant a subservient creature willing or eager to be fondled or
"owned." Though deprived of future litters, she's still her own woman,
independent and owned by no one.
Paul Azevedo's e mail is Paul@thereactor.net.
Check The Reactor's website at www.thereactor.net.
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