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One casualty of the pandemic seems to be my ability to blog. My work life has gotten far more active and sitting in front of the computer longer, and writing, just isn't happening at this time.
There is, however, so much cat life going on. Siada, Layla and Malik are doing amazingly and are loving country life. They have much more fun in WV and there are so many cats outside to watch! Yes, the Furrals are doing well, and I am still chronicling their story as we work to get them all spayed and neutered. So far we have fixed 13 cats and homed 15 kittens (and one of those adults as well). It is exhausting, but will be very worth it. I DO have a Facebook Page for sharing their adventures - The Furral Report. We hope you can join us there from time to time. If you would like to contribute to the Furral Fund (money goes to spay, neuter and vaccinate both clowders), there is a GoFundMe that is currently running. Hopefully we can keep the momentum going and be in the glorious position to have No Stinky Kittens this summer!
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We had several days of peace (not peace and quite, mind you, as Spatz never shuts up, but we did have relative peace in terms of the Porch Wars). But that was broken today by the fact that Spatz entered Mommy Cat's hunting turf (under the camper) and she called out the big guns (Orange Boi) to back up her claim. The explosion on the tarmac was epic and there is still enough fur strewn around out there to construct another meatball head feline. I broke it up, and then tended to the newest cut on Orange Boi's head. Friends had recommended Vetericyn for treating wounds on cats, but when I went to Tractor Supply they were out. I stood there for a good 20 minutes reading bottles because a number of the products there were safe on pretty much every animal except cats. Eventually I settled on MicrocynAH and have been pretty pleased with it. It is a gel formula so it actually hangs around the wound area instead of running directly off. There is no discernible smell (at least to me), and it clearly doesn't burn or sting because OB has let me spray it on some pretty hideous gashes so far. Now I just need to keep him and Spatz from killing each other until the weather here sorts itself out and I can get The Enemy fixed. Most days we have peace, but some days these idiot meatball boys will be boys. "I am Orange Boi and I am soaking wet because I got in a massive brawl with Spatz in the one puddle that is in the back drive. The human lady had to come spray goo on my bloody head and she told me I am a dumbass. Miss Gimpy said she is correct in that."
The Furrals would like to welcome y’all to the open house for the new L’Hôtel Annie and Chez Amy!!! It is a nice (if chilly), sunny day for the official grand opening! Thank you so very much to both Annie and Amy for their kindness in providing homes for the rest of the crew!!!
This is my second post today (the first was during my lunch break for work), but this needs to be shared.
Several times friends have offered to help with the Furrals. I declined because this shouldn't be anyone's responsibility (had the original owner been a better pet person), but eventually one of them said to me that they wanted to help, that the stories of the Furrals was bringing happiness into the pandemic isolation. When I was asked again this week, I decided to put together an Amazon Wishlist with some additional insulated houses, food and cat catching gloves. Within mere days the list was totally fulfilled and the first items showed up today. I could cry over the kindness and generosity (not only of these folks, but eternally also for Dr. Hillary). I will have 3 months of food coming and the gloves (and I know others have ordered additional cat houses as well)!
About the gloves, I have welding gloves that I had to use to crate Nimar for trips to the vet (he was NOT a fan). They since have moved to their new purpose of allowing me to load items into a hot kiln, though I did use them when handling the ferals this spring/summer. Good thing too, as one of those sweet looking baby tabbies this summer bit my finger when I was grabbing her little stripey self!
When doing the kitty round-up this fall I learned that Dr. Hillary has a set of some kind of crazy cobra catching gloves or something. They come up to the armpits and look like they have banded armor applied to the surface. They are impressive! While I don't need quite that much protection (as I am only handling ferals that I know I can pick up or tiny baby kittens), I love the idea of having heavy gloves that cover the entire length of my arm like some kind of wildlife opera gloves. I added a lined set to my wishlist and a long-time friend (and kitty fan) Annie, sent them to me. I think that these will help make wrestling Spatz easier next month!
While I was marveling at the gloves (which I picked up from the post office box today), Siada starts growling and running to the front door. Outside is the Amazon driver (he is new and didn't know to go to the back) who is in the process of lugging heavy packages to the front porch (and scaring the Furrals in the process).
So much food! Myself and the Furrals want to thank Amy and Kathy (and someone else, I think, as one box of 3 packages of the Friskies did not have a note with it - ETA mystery solved, the nommy gravy cases were sent by Katherine). I know other things are coming as well and I am, as I said earlier, am just overwhelmed by all of this. I know there are other things coming soon as well, and food from my mom and Jen. There are frolicking Furrals right now! I am very touched by this outpouring of kindness for these felines and will definitely be posting more about the generous gifts in the future! It has been quite some time since I had to get up at 5AM to try to find my socks and pants and a flashlight so that I can stagger out into the slippery night to break up a battle on the porch before it really gets underway. I guess the universe thought we went too long so there I was at exactly 5AM trying to get from the back of the house to the front before the boys would come to blows (all without slipping and breaking my arm).
It was Spatz and Orange Boi again, of course. (And Spatz is now Spatz with a Z, not an S, because he told me so over dinner last night, in many, many meows.) I actually wasn't pissed this time, as I was having some seriously weird anxiety dreams anyways, so out into the cold, icy world I shuffled. 5AM is a weird time to me. I am a night person who marvels at humans like my mom or my friends, Kim, Dr. Hillary and Paulette, who just naturally seem to rise at obscene hours. Malik gets up then as well, and rearranges furniture and carries his kills (dishtowels) to ledge over the fridge. He comes back to bed with me again by 7 though, for one more nice nap before it is time to get up for real. But 5AM is when the neighbors rooster starts crowing, and apparently when the ferals start fighting. I grab a small cup of cat food on to take out with me to distract the boys (all the Furrals know the sounds of the crunchies rattling in the plastic cup). I shoo Spatz off the porch and tell him to go to his Hole and he heads that direction. He is no longer fearful of me following him, and even nicely waits by the bowl for me to put the food down. He will be easy to catch (I hope) next week when it is time to get him fixed. The problem is that the Furrals think this is always some sort of nighttime promenade. Gimpy, Orange Boi and Mommy follow me when I am send Spatz to his shed. Because, you know, exactly what I need at 5AM, in the dark, on an icy driveway, is one butthead boy cat trying to barge into the territory of another one (so we could have the reverse of what I just broke up). So I have to put the flashlight in my pocket, pick up Orange Boi (who is a marvelously solid, if stocky, cat) and walk clear around the house again so that the feline parade ends up back home where they can all, hopefully, go back to bed so I can at least try to get a few more hours sleep. The orange meatball head loves to be held and wiggles around in my arms purring, making it even harder to navigate the icy pavement while Gimpy twines around my ankles. Eventually they were all in their places (and Daddy Cat is definitely using one of the cat houses now), and I walked back to the house myself. In the distance I could hear a dog barking and another massive cat fight up on the hill opposite us. I wonder which of the neighbor boys are going at it. There are three younger ones in that direction (maybe four if the little orange one Gimpy had last year is still around) and at least 2 more older ones (including one of the originals who was formerly a "pet"). I didn't really sleep much when I went back to bed, even with my three kittons curled up all over me, but I could at least soak up the Savannah love while laying there wondering why any living creature thinks 5AM is a good idea. Spats is still causing a problem here. Sometimes the resident Furral boys allow him to eat at the far edge of the porch and everyone is happy. Sometimes they have a full on brawl (at horrible hours of the night) and I end up cleaning up a mangled Orange Boi (who is always proudly victorious) in the morning. It makes me sad because Spats does not at all seem to be a bad cat. He talks a lot. Like a whole, whole lot. And I know he is just doing what his boy-cat-junk is telling him to do. Actually, truth be told, this entire situation makes me sad. I did not ask for this at all (even though I dearly love all cats). But it now constantly burns in the back of my mind that some of these sweet animals were PETS, that were just tossed out and left because they did not matter enough to their caretaker. I know they at least have better, healthier lives now, it is just stressful (and pricey, lol) trying to manage it all. But anyways, to get back to the story at hand, Spats is a butthead and he and Orange Boi keep tangling and it needs to stop. Dr. Hillary offered to try to snip him Monday if I could catch him, so I got up at a ridiculous hour and attempted to trap him. Alas, Spats is too smart for the traps and I was not able to get him at all. (I saw him, and he was limping, and very shy of me. He even ran away into the woods instead of meeting me at the shed where I can feed him by himself.) I was, however, able to grab Daddy who has been limping very badly since before Christmas. For the past two weeks he has been hanging close to the porch, down in the juniper bushes. He only comes out to visit me and to eat. No prowling or hunting at all and that had me worried about his pain levels with whatever the injury is. He is so gentle with me I was able to easily crate him to make the long drive to the doc. He was SO good at the vet! This is a cat who may never have been inside, and who definitely has not been inside in 3 years. He was gentle and so easy to handle. He got x-rays that showed nothing wrong, so I have some anti-inflammatories in the event it is soft tissue damage. He has full range of motion and lets you touched the entire arm and his back so now it is a matter of doing what we can to let him rest and heal up. As you can see below, Orange Boi is happy to have his buddy back! There have been a few too many 5:12am brawls lately, but then out of nowhere we have peace? Feral Cat Politics confuse me even more than human politics do!
Spats is in the upper right corner of the pic, with Orange Boi sitting right close by! Also in attendance is Mommy cat (top left), Miss Gimpy (to the left of Orange Poi) and Daddy Cat at the bottom of the photo. Tiny Face is off to the side because she hates Spats and still isn't quite sure about me! lol The Enemy (now called Spats, per the BigMan) and Orange Boi almost sort seem to have a bit of a truce going. There is no immediate explosion when Spats comes onto the porch, and I feed him in his shed or at the end of the porch (about 10 feet from the Furrals). They still go at it if Spats gets to close when Orange Boi doesn't want him there (sometimes he doesn't seem to care that much).
Occasionally though, Spats tries to chase Tiny Face off the porch when she comes to feed and Mommy Cat is not huge fan. He mostly leaves Gimpy alone. Daddy came up tonight, and is still profoundly limping but he is moving MUCH faster than before and he let me cuddle him (and let Orange Boi rub on him too). Spats didn't want Daddy there and I had to go intervene and chase the ball of fluff back to the shed. It wasn't a fight but I do NOT want him chasing any of the Fixed Five away. I am trying to decide if they can develop some sort of permanent truce. Maybe they will let this interloper join the colony. I mean, I don't blame Spats at all for wanting to move in. After all there is food and treats and warm little houses. Things are definitely better than they were a couple of weeks ago, but I still have to go put my foot down occasionally about the house rules (those being "leave my furrals alone"). The Enemy now comes on the porch in broad daylight. He has to sit at the edge and wait for everyone else to eat, and then when Orange Boi was done “burying” all the bowls, he was allowed to come eat while Orange Boi watched from the roof of the nearby cat house. As soon as he was done eating, he crept away into the woods again. What was more adorable though was Tiny Face and Daddy Cat. They came and left dinner together. He still has a very bad limp but seems to be able to put weight on that arm now. Tiny trotted after him rubbing on him and head butting him as they walked back down to the guest cabin together. It was completely adorable. I did take some food down there and left it for them there. Daddy has lost some weight, I assume he isn’t hunting well right now while his arm heals, and I don’t want him losing any more. And last night at exactly 12:45am the growls started again (pretty much the moment I laid down). This time I went out with the broom and the long haired black boy with white whiskers was staring down Orange Boi.
Again. I chased him off the porch and then waited to see where he went. As I suspected, he went to the woodshed. Fine, I figured I would put some food in there to make him less inclined to fight on the porch for it. If I can get him to KEEP going there then I can nab him and can get the nuts nipped. So I come back in the house to get the food. Take some to Orange Boi for holding the front again, and head to the shed. Only this time as I am walking down the ramp off the porch, I slip and fall. Seriously, if I was going to fall wouldn't it make more sense that it happened as I was running around like a mad woman and waving a cheetah print broom at a big fluffy cat? No, I fall when casually walking. I landed on my left forearm. IT swelled up immediately and my hand is tingly still. I am sure it is not broken but holy crap it hurts to have my shirt touching it! (ETA, the BigMan thinks I did get a hairline fracture.) I also am starting to think Orange Boi is one of the four that used to be pets. He is way to social (and very, very easy to pick up and handle), to be fully a feral animal. They also now have a heated water dish, because spoiling cats is clearly a hobby around here. |
AuthorSavannah Caretaker who is honored to do the job. The Merry Rosette participates in the Amazon Associates program and a small commission is earned on qualifying purchases. This revenue goes towards helping to feed the Furrals!
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