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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!
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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! This was a tension rod that holds the curtains (the, um, 'door') for the closet in the guest room. Malik likes to play in those curtains and he really loves to pull them totally down. The last time he did that I just gave up and shoved the whole apparatus to the side in the closet. I did not notice until recently that he had been using the thing as a chew toy. Seriously??? I made a comment to friends that "this is why we can't have nice things" and someone rebutted with "he is your nice thing". And she was absolutely correct. Any pet can be destructive. Sometimes you can train them to be gentler on your belongings, but sometimes it is what it is. In any case, if I am choosing to bring an animal into my home and life, I think it important to consider that it really is a possibility that you cannot have delicate decorations on shelves or leave piles of laundry on the floor. And it is also important to be aware that some breeds of animals are going to have a greater propensity for mischief than others. I replaced the rod and kissed his giant bubblegum nose because he is definitely worth more to me than all the curtains in the world. Then there was that tragic moment that I had to tell Mr. Malik that his favorite unabashedly foul-smelling food (Ziwi Peak Lamb & Mackerel) was on backorder at the local supplier!!!
He was only slightly consoled that I found a few bags on Amazon, but dove deep into despair again when he realized that he was going to be forced to eat chicken flavor till the Lamb & Mackerel one arrives. 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! The Furral situation is sometimes frustrating, but there are moments when I feel really good that these abandoned darlings are content and happy again. And in the case of Gimpy, I think she is enjoy having this lush belly full of food instead of babies for once!
This is my lap every single night. I am going to pretend it is me they love so much, but in reality I think it is the warm and toasty tiger blanket.
Nimar had a very fluffy belly, but Malik takes the phenomena to new lengths. I really do NOT know where this comes from.
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 |
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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