"Yet like a marriage, the loving interplay between people and cats offers more rewards, more intimacy, than relationships with other animals." ~ Armand Eisen, The Cat's Meow
Each of the following stories is copyright by the respective authors.
Submitted September 28, 1997:
The Little Tabby who Begged for Help
The setting is a small business on the outskirts of town where I worked for almost a decade. Although it could have been anywhere in America. Feral cats have the lowest priority. If you don't see them, they don't exist! If you don't see it happen, it did not happen!
"Touch me," she said. "It's so easy to leave me all alone with the memory of my days in the sun. If you touch me you'll understand..." I touched her. I understood. And it broke my heart!
Today she let me touch her. Her little body was trembling with fear but I could not miss the very soft purring under the thick coat of fur. The encounter was very quick and in no time she ran back, keeping her safe distance once again, watching me pour the fresh food and water into the bowls.
Step, step, step...her little feet kneading at the ground as if it was a wool blanket under her feet instead of the dirt. My task done, I stopped to talk to her for moment. She looked at me and meowed, her feet still kneading at the ground. She was close enough that I could hear her, still purring very softly. A little tabby...kind of cute but so tiny, probably just out of kittenhood.
I was very ignorant of the problem of feral cats when I arrived at the premises several months earlier. I am a city woman. I was shocked to find about three dozen cats roaming around, looking for food after the place was quiet and all the customers were gone. I started to feed the cats, not really knowing how to deal with this overwhelming situation.
These animals, obviously homeless, had no one to look after them. They were no one's responsibility. A nuisance according to humans around. Some looked healthy enough, others were in need of treatment. Different stage of growth, different colors! I began feeding them and leaving water for them at night before I left the premises. Some cats were friendly enough, most likely had been someone's pet at one time. I began the task of taming them, well enough to get them into a carrier and take them to be fixed.
The little tabby was special to me somehow. She had been quietly studying me at a distance for a long time, wanting to come closer but afraid to. I needed lots of patience with her before I could get her into a carrier. We were almost there...when all of a sudden the cats disappeared. I came in one Monday morning and all the cats were gone. The place totally deserted! No feline in sight! The food dish hardly touched! I filled the bowl again that night and the food was still there when I came in Tuesday morning. It was eerie! Even the old black and white cat that everybody talked to and petted was gone. He had been someone's pet, abandoned to fend for himself.
I asked around and someone said the cats had been shot over the weekend. "Population Control," he added. I felt sick!
Wednesday morning, blood on the side of the water bowl! Someone was still alive, I thought. The place was tense. I did my work, tears rolling down my face and anger in my heart. I wanted some answers! I wanted the truth! What happened? The thought of the little tabby kept coming back to my mind. Where was she? Where were they all? Was she alive and too afraid to come out? Did they think that I betrayed them?
A few tense hours passed... Everyone was quiet and anxious at the office... As if they were waiting for something to happen.
And then I heard it. I heard a very faint meow outside the door. I rushed out and there she was. The little tabby. She had her face in the bowl of food, trying to eat. When she heard me, she looked up and let out a very weak meow again. I then saw her face. Part of her mouth had been blown away. She was barely alive. Her body had the smell of decaying flesh. It was a miracle that she made it to the bowl of food where she knew I would find her. It is as if she heard my prayers and wanted to give me the evidence I needed. Her little body riddled with bullets.
Rolled in a towel, I carried her to the nearest veterinarian and held her in my arms while she was gently put to sleep. I heard her last words... A very soft purr... No doubt she said: "Help us, please." Her heart stopped beating. She was gone. And I alone cried for the little tabby. The little tabby without a name, without a home. The little tabby deserted by society.
At my request, the veterinarian took x-rays, clearly showing the evidence. Bullet fragments from a .22 rifle! With this evidence, still in my closet today, the little tabby saved all other feral cats arriving at that premises. Cats were never shot again as a way to control the population.
A promise was made to me and the promise was kept.
Folks, this is America! These animals need your help! Trap, spay, neuter is the only answer to control the cat over-population. I have seen too much misery! These innocent animals need your compassion. Some of you may think that the above is an isolated incident. It is not!!! This is a way of life in some rural and not so rural areas in America. Lots of people with the power to correct this know about it and turn their backs because they are "only" feral cats.
Please . . . for heaven sakes! Spay and Neuter your animals!
Submitted by: Marcelle Thompson
Remember Sheba - My Rescued Kittens - Trap/Spay/Neuter/Release
From her email when Marcelle gave me written permission to use her copyright story:
"I wrote the story a few years ago trying to make some sense of all that was going on. Still did not make sense, but it was good therapy. Doing the web page re-opened the wounds. The little tabby incident happened right after my little Mika died and before Evie was diagnosed with leukemia. It was hell! About 25 cats were killed. I did not know who to grieve for the most."
Submitted November 6, 1997:
The Wee Ones
About a week before Halloween I had to go to the store to pick up milk just before 11:00 p.m. I was getting in the car and heard what I knew to be a newborn kittens cry from down the road. Oh God Susie, this cry just pierced through me. Loud and so full of fear.
The street I live on is the only access for trucks to use to get to the grain mill to scale in so transports are plentiful and I went flying down the street on foot.
There in the middle of the street was this wee tiny baby kitten. Before I made it to her, the mother ran into the road and picked her up and tried to get her back to safety and of course in her haste, dropped the baby a few times, but finally made it over. At the time, I was just angry over the fact that the owner would let a mother cat and kittens live outside under any circumstances, much less a northern October. I should have known the story would get much worse.
Through some cagey detective work I found out that the mother cat has
NEVER been fed and has only survived with whatever she can catch in the field across the street. When asked, the owner claimed "he couldn't afford" food. We live in the country where vets who are more than willing to take in animals and find homes for them abound, not to mention a no-kill shelter, so there is no excuse whatsoever for abuse of cats or dogs, which of course means nothing to these morons right?
Jocko - one of our neighbour kitties - was kind enough to donate some of his food to the poor things and it was reported back to me that the kittens were encrusted with mud and could barely walk. With Jocko's kind donation, mom finally had something to eat and the kittens, who should still be suckling for at least three more weeks did the best they could under the circumstances. I was told that the owner heard about "a crazy cat lady" - namely yours truly here - and that he planned on putting all the kittens plus mom - yeah, right - in a box and dump them on my doorstep. "She's one of those animal freaks, she'll take them." Yes mister, I am and it's because of assholes like you that I prefer animals to people. I make no excuses for my preferences.
So here I sit with nine kitties to my name already, wondering what to do, knowing I can't bring them in and then it dawned on me that I have my little shop and that they just might fit right in with the whole laid-back homey atmosphere that I've tried to create. Because I don't serve food or sell clothes or anything like that, I knew I wouldn't be breaking any health laws so I called my kids from the store and ran it past them. They loved the idea and I took it from there and did a little mini survey amoungst email friends and real life customers.
Seems like everyone is in full agreement that kitties in my store would be the perfect touch. I know that White Rose Nursery has a cat in every store. Don't know if they do in the States, but in Canada you can't enter any one of their stores without looking for the kitty for hugs.
So with my decision made, I asked the kids to run down and get two of the kittens. I guess I should have told them to harden their hearts before they did. They brought two back and within a 200 foot walk from that house to ours, Tara ended up with over two dozen flea bites. From what I've gleaned over the phone and ICQ these kittens are carrying more flea than fur. Tara had said and I quote..."Oh Mom, I've never ever seen fleas this big and these poor guys are covered in them." The kittens were bathed and it was reported back to me that the towels used to dry them were literally covered in blood from the now wet flea droppings. They've been bathed twice now and are being combed diligently for any that were missed.
Tara phoned me at the store in tears over the pathetic size of them and how they literally attacked the food the kids laid out for them. I told Bobby to open up a can of food and mix it with dry and take it down to the other cats on a paper plate. I'm going to ask the kids to call my vet tomorrow and see if arrangements can be made for the others to be picked up.
In the meantime, Tara left a note on the owners door which reads, "We took two kittens...thanks." It's more than the idiot deserves, but I raised the kids to be polite so I guess I shouldn't complain.
So to make a long story short, my shop is now the new home for two four week old kittens, one a white haired little girl and the other a little boy made up of a kaleidoscope of colours. Both are long haired so I've been told. I've yet to meet them!
Had my girl come in for a few minutes today while I ran out and bought litter pan, infant cereal and milk in anticipation of the "babies." Wish me luck with my wee ones!!
Submitted by: Cricket
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