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As delighted as I am by the warmer weather and sunshine, the Furrals are even happier! I got an affectionate greeting from Orange Boi, Daddy Cat and Miss Gimpy when I took a brief break and sat with them on the porch at lunch. Daddy Cat and Orange Boi get so excited about "people time" that they rub all over each other as much as they rub on me!
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There are improvements in the relations between the Front Porch 5 (they sound like one of the BigMan's gangster movies that way) and Spatz. On Saturday, they were all waiting politely for me together when I went to feed them.
Even more amazing though, is that when Orange Boi walked past Spatz and Spatz started doing that flapping thing with his cheeks that they do at each other when they start the testosterone-induced posturing. (I have no clue what it really is supposed to be, but it looks completely ridiculous. The cheeks kinda puff out and the lips flap and it makes this little noise and clearly they have NO clue how dumb it actually looks nor the fact that it actually impresses no one. I swear Gimpy rolls her eyes when they start that.) So Spatz is making silly faces and.... Orange Boi gave him a big old affectionate headbutt. Spatz had no idea how to react (and I am not even sure OB realized who he had just booped because he is not the brightest of the lot) and just stopped with the stupidity and started begging for breakfast and trying to trip and kill me with the rest of the gang. Sunday was even better, because Spatz was still in his Hole and Tiny Face went looking for hime when he did not come to eat! When he finally made it onto the porch she rubbed up against him, gave him a gentle headbutt and shared a plate of breakfast with him. I think she chose him as her Valentine. I was delighted that there was a pause in the fights between Orange Boi and Spatz for a bit, and that Spatz was even eating meals with the others peace. But yesterday when I went out to feed I noticed blood drops by the water dish and across the porch. The Furrals were all there waiting for me, but no Spatz. The porch was quite last night, so whatever trouble there was had to happen further down the hill or at the neighbors.
I called, because sometimes Spatz is still in The Hole when I go to feed. Nothing. No meowing. No Spatz. I went to check The Hole (which he has officially made his home as there is a rubbermade tote I converted to a cat shelter many years ago). He was curled up in the house but would not come out. I am guessing he was injured but there was no way that I am reaching into a cramped space and dragging out a wounded cat. He made little noises at me but refused to budge. I left food and water and had to go back to the house to get to work. For once Orange Boi wasn't all bloddy and mangled from fighting, so I am sure that the throw-down happened elsewhere. I know that there are a couple of BIG toms down the hill and I have heard a lady in heat calling in the night several times, so Spatz might be making trouble for himself trying to find a mate. When I checked later in the day, he had eating some. What was interesting though, is that Tiny Face has gone to check on him a few times as well. I saw her quite near The Hole, just watching him from a distance. Maybe she was planning his demise for being loquacious, but I will tell myself she was checking on the fuzzy dude who eats at the far end of the porch with her. I look forward to getting him fixed and hope that will end the roaming (and the front porch brawls as well). He does seem to be determined to spread his genes while he can. Last summer Tiny Face had a long haired black kitten, while Mommy Cat had a black kitten with white whiskers. This fall Gimpy had a short haired tux with whit whiskers. I think I know what his favorite hobby might me. 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!!! I should keep points... which set of felines, the Kittons or the Furrals will make me go totally gray first? This morning started with one point to the outside crew. At least the idiots outside held off till 6am before the banshee wails of the meatball fight started. I went out to break them up, and it was actually so light from the recent full moon that I didnt need a flashlight, and no ice on the ground was a bonus. I chased the interloper (Spatz) off the porch. Put food in his Hole and started to walk Orange Boi back to the porch. Then when I finally ended up getting up for good, Layla earned a point for the House Kittons. 10:30am and I am still trying to drink that first cup of coffee and Dingaling Layla was on the shelf over the fridge wallering around. I told her three times to stop all the wiggling or she would fall.
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. I totally confess to making up little stories about these Furrals and their relationships with each other. Some of the things I know, some I assumed (and some I am sure I am assuming wrongly, lol).
Daddy, Gimpy and a gray and white cat were three of the 4 who were pets at one time. Maybe Orange Boi is too, given how friendly he is, but I don't actually know that for sure. What I do know is that Mommy is Tiny Face's mother, and I am almost positive that Gimpy is Mommy Cat's mom. Charcoal, Forest, White Tip and Blaze (all under a year old) are Gimpy's kittens. Bandit, who lives under the neighbor's shed, is a tux that is Tiny Face's littermate. I used to think Daddy was the father of Tiny's litter as he would lay in the sun and let those kittens crawl all over him. But he also took care of Mommy Cat's babies so maybe he just likes bitty kittens. Before finding out that Daddy was one of the Originals, I thought perhaps he was a descendent of Mr. Smiley (an unfixed Tom neighbors had many years ago). For the longest time we always had exactly one big tabby tom here. Mr. Smiley, One Ear, and others. They would wander through every now and then, but none stuck around. They always seemed a good omen to me. I guess we have the best omen now though, as Daddy is a total sweetheart of a cat. After seeing this picture I took, I am really thinking maybe he is Tiny Face's papa. She absolutely adores him, and loves to give him headbutts and frolic after his limpy self. (Yes, I know that I am totally anthropomorphizing these cats and that this gang is probably an inbred hot mess, but they deserve to have stories and so I am sticking to it.) And yes, the excessive 'winter coat' on her cracks me up too! 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! |
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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