Tales of the Feral Cats: The Sky is Crying

It’s pouring down rain at the moment I am writing this. And by pouring, I mean a torrential downpour with some very gusty wind. The only thing missing are the flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder. It’s rained through most of the night, washing away the wintery blanket of snow that blew in only a few days ago. Such is the weather here in the Northeast US. Below freezing one day, Spring temperatures the next. It also seems quite fitting for today – the rain washing away the pleasure and joy a nice snow can bring. Today is the closing on my lifelong childhood home, and this week is the week we find that Oreo only has short while left with our family. My mother passed away on Mother’s Day this year (holidays seem to be a curse to us, both human and animal). It was both a blessing and soul wrenching. It closed a 5 year chapter on our lives. Dad passed from COVID in 2020 (he went in the hospital right before Easter), and Mom had to go in a week later. She recovered, but he did not. But I don’t think she really recovered emotionally. These last five years brought along a lot of health issues for her, which were only exacerbated by her dementia, which only got progressively worse. So it was a small relief when she passed, knowing that her suffering was over. But today we close the book on that part of our lives forever as the home I and my siblings grew up in over the course of 50 odd years will pass on to another family in which for them to make new memories. It’s been an emotional roller coaster for many months.

This week, the train of that coaster has derailed. Monday morning started like any other. As daylight began to break, our feral crew began their usual ministrations to let us know that breakfast was overdue. So the routine began. I got out of bed, and began the ritual feeding. But this time, I noticed that Oreo wasn’t quite his normal self. He seemed a little unsteady on his hind legs, and wobbled every so often while walking, like he was losing his balance. I thought maybe he was a little stiff from sleeping, or perhaps he had been hurt from a scrap he had with Tux a day or two beforehand. As the morning progressed, it was clear that something wasn’t quite right, as he continued to show issues with his hind quarters, even though he seemed fine in every other regard. But life called and I had to head out to work. I put Oreo in our bedroom so we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone going after him, or he hurting himself trying to get up and down the stairs in the house. I let our eldest know to watch out for him and let me know how he acts when it came time for dinner. When dinner rolled around, it was clear that he was not getting any better, and looked to be worse, as he was dragging one of his legs as he wobbled to the food bowl. So I called our Vet to try to get an appointment for him in the next couple of days. The nurse indicated that he should most likely go to urgent care as soon as possible. It took me a moment to process that because, in the back of my mind, that’s what I had already feared. At that point, my thoughts were going towards a neurological problem that might be the result of an infection, because of his FIV.

At that point, I called my wife to let her know, and asked if she could get him to the hospital and get the process going until I could get there after work. Unfortunately, Oreo had hidden himself out of reach under our bed and neither my wife nor eldest could coax him out and get him into the carrier. I told them to give him a lickable treat with a capsule of Gabapentin, which we use for Hershey’s FHS and aggression towards Midnight, and that I would just get him after work. So the remaining hours crawled by until I could close up shop and get home. Fortunately, by that time the medicine had kicked in, and Oreo had positioned himself within easy reach under the bed. I scooped him up and headed off to the emergency room.

Luckily enough, one of the people I work with also works at the hospital, so she got Oreo in and prepped for the doctor as soon as I was able to get there. Not that it mattered as I was the only one there for admittance at that hour of the night. So the waiting game began. I don’t even know how long I was waiting at that point. Time just seemed to blend altogether until the ward doctor brought me in the room to discuss the results of her examination and blood work.

Due to his symptoms, and his current heart condition with FIV on top, she suspected a blood clot had blocked off a portion of the main artery that went to his hind legs. He was also slightly anemic and one kidney level was elevated. She suggested a transfer to another hospital who had a Cardiologist who was available to see him immediately. Unfortunately, theirs was not available for a couple of days. So she started making some phone calls. About an hour went by before she returned and let me know that the only place that she could get a hold of that had a Cardiologist ready was over 40 minutes away in the big ole city. Considering that I had to be back to work in a few hours by that time, and I had no desire to head into the city that night, and Oreo had stabilized at that point and wasn’t critical. We decided that the best course of action was just to keep him overnight and see if somewhere closer had a Cardiologist available for the next day. So home I went, and after a restless few hours, went back to work, awaiting an update from the doctor.

I got the call later in the morning, letting me know that Oreo was still doing OK, but the result of additional tests came back more worrying. So the decision was made to take Oreo to another critical care facility, still forty-odd minutes away, but one much easier to get to that was not in the city. They would make the arrangements for the transfer and get him ready for me to pick him up and head to the next hospital. It was heart wrenching to see the Mini Bear – bandage on his front leg where they left the catheter in for the next Hospital, and a cone around his head to prevent him from attempting to take it off. For the next 40 odd minutes, I drove in silence, not even feeling the mood for my usual accompanying Christmas music in the car. It was just Oreo’s plaintive meows as he obviously was frightened and could not understand why this was happening to him.

We arrived to the next hospital and began the check-in process. The receptionist couldn’t find the transfer order, so started a new intake process. To their credit, a nurse came out to check on Oreo as soon as they were aware that he had arrived and noticed that he was in distress and took him back immediately to begin treatment. The receptionist found the transfer order with the notes from the previous hospital, so at that point it was just a waiting game to see what the next set of results would be.

 

Of course, things can’t ever be simple for us. That day was going to be a busy day for me, even without the emergency. I had a virtual appointment with a Nutritionist in a hour, and then we had our youngest’s dressage riding lesson, which had already been rescheduled to that day because of another appointment my wife and I had the following day which wouldn’t allow us time to get back for her regularly scheduled lesson. So while waiting in the busy lobby of the hospital, I was trying to calculate the exact times I would need to leave in order to make it back home in time, and decide whether I could take the virtual appointment on my phone while on the road. As the minutes ticked by, I realized that taking the appointment in the car would not be practical, so I called to reschedule, but of course was going to get hit with a late cancellation fee, regardless. That problem solved, it was only a matter of timing – and rush hour traffic – to determine whether we would make horse lessons on time or not.

I think I had been there for about an hour when I was called back into a room to discuss Oreo’s situation. They had him stabilized and he was doing well, but they had a lot of emergency calls that they were still dealing with, so couldn’t do much more testing at that point. So we discussed his condition and the report from the previous hospital and came up with a game plan for further testing. At that point, we were still leaning towards a blood clot, and considered having an echocardiogram performed in the morning, but they wanted to try an ultrasound of his stomach first, since that wouldn’t require anesthesia. Since his condition also hinted at something going on with his spine, we considered perhaps doing an MRI as well, but that would come after the echo and additional bloodwork. They would give me a call around 10 the next morning to discuss the results.

At that point, it was time to head home. Naturally, once the GPS was fired up, rush hour traffic was well underway, and the main route home was hampered by some idiot who decided to have a bit of an accident some 10 miles down the road, causing a nearly 20 minute jam. I clearly was not going to be home in time for the riding lessons at the appointed time. So after a couple of text’s I arranged to have the lessons pushed back an hour and hit the highway. I attempted to soothe myself with my holiday tracks, but it couldn’t assuage my thoughts, or the tears that came on the drive home. I fervently hoped that a blood clot was all it would be, but my gut told me otherwise.  In any event I arrived home literally at the very minute we had to leave in order to get to riding lessons at the newly appointed time. I noted that there is very little rest for the weary.

I managed to get a little more sleep that night, and awoke the next morning to begin our usual feeding routine, minus one. Fortunately, there was no work for me that day, but it was going to be a full day of running around, nonetheless. Our youngest has a music recital at school that morning, afterwards I had to take care of making phone calls and doing paperwork for the house closing. I called the hospital to let them know I would not be able to take any calls until Noon. We also had that appointment coming up in the afternoon, which was a 45 minute drive in the opposite direction I had to take to the hospital. The day really just turned into one big blur of time and movement. I remember the doctor calling while I was downstairs on the computer checking e-mail and that’s when we got the news.

The results of the ultrasound found a mass in his small intestine, with some fluid forming around his stomach as well. Both kidneys showed signs of being affected at that point. Without anything more invasive, and his having FIV, the doctor felt pretty certain that it was Lymphoma that had potentially spread to his spine as well, which is what caused the onset of the weakness in his hind quarters. At that point we had three options:

1.       The most aggressive and invasive route of surgery and chemo. But the results would hardly be in his favor nor guaranteed because of his heart condition.

2.       Keep him comfortable with medication and pain relief as a hospice patient at home

3.       Euthanasia

I thanked the doctor for the information and told him we would discuss and get back to him as soon as possible. None of those were the three options I wanted or needed, but they were the only three we had based on his condition. I called back after an hour and the flow of tears had ended to let the nurse know that we would take him home with medication and work with our vet to see what we could do for him in the time he had left. At that point, my wife and I had to head out to our appointment.

The nurse called back to give me the details and let me know that they were going to prep him for discharge. I let him know that I would be there to pick him up later that evening, after we wrapped up our appointment. We got back to the house around dinner time. Thankfully our eldest has taken an interest in cooking, so she got dinner started, but it wouldn’t be ready until long after we would have to leave to get Oreo at the appointed time. I had a salad, and got in the car to get our mini bear from the hospital and bring him home to peace and comfort after his 48 hour ordeal. It felt like a week by that point. At least it was late enough by then that rush hour traffic was pretty much done with, and it was only a matter of them finishing the discharge procedures and we were on our way home.

While I was gone, the family got the spare bedroom ready for him, so Oreo could have a safe place to spend his final days, or weeks, without having to worry about being terrorized by Tux, or us having to worry about him going up and down the stairs in the house. He’s been a brave boy so far and he’s going to get love and spoilings for as long as he shows us he can.

This morning was the start of the second full day of him being home with us, and the skies opened up overnight and have just continued to pour down. I stared out of the bedroom window watching the wind and rain batter the screen and glass as Oreo lay up against my leg and arm, purring away as if nothing was wrong. I would have to get up in a few minutes to get ready to head to the lawyer’s office to sign the final paperwork for the house closing. My heart and tears matched the tempest that was occurring outside of the house. It felt as if Mother Nature was matching the storm I felt inside of myself. The sky was crying as much as my heart and soul were at that moment.

Tales of the Feral Cats: Falling for Ferals

It’s quite amazing how quickly time can get away from you. It’s been nearly a year since we last revisited our Tales. I had originally planned to at least provide one update this past spring for the Wooden Anniversary of the Ferals coming into our lives, but life had other plans. What an interesting five years it has been to say the least. It certainly has been filled with both happiness and sorrow, this year in particular, as we had to say good-bye to Mom for the last time in May. It was both a heartbreak and a blessing as her health and mental acuity had been declining since we lost Dad to COVID five years ago. So much of this year has been spent on dealing with the family issues both before and afterwards. However, I didn’t want the year to go by without at least posting something about what has been the rock in this storm of a half decade. It’s really because of them, the Ferals, that we can continue to function at all without feeling such despair too often.

Not much has changed out on the street. We still haven’t seen any regular sign of the other colonies or loners out there. Every once in a while, we’ll glimpse a feral heading down the neighbor’s driveway, but the sightings haven’t been as plentiful as they were a couple of years ago. With no regular sightings over the winter, we unfortunately have had to stop putting food out for whoever may come by as the other wildlife are usually the one’s to partake, especially the raccoons as is still quite evident from the neighbor’s trash that gets scattered in our backyard as they make fast with the goods through the hole under the fence. We can at least take comfort that there are more than a handful of others in the area that still have food and shelter for the colonies that are just beyond the reach of the raccoon territory. I’ve checked with the local shelters and rescue groups in the area as well for signs of Scruff and Catlyn, but unfortunately, no luck. So it looks like we will be left with just the five, plus good ole Hershey.

Speaking of which, the lone girl of the group is hanging in strong, even also being the eldest at around 12 years now. She’s still in pretty good health now, but unfortunately had a few incidents in the recent months of her going Psycho kittie and trying to murder everyone else in the house – particularly Midnight and Tux. It’s seems to be some redirected aggression as it has happened when she gets a whiff of a particular scent from my shoes or clothing after being outside. Most likely it is the scents of the wildlife or the occasional feral who has wandered through the property. We’ve had to keep her isolated for a few days each time and have increased her dose of Gabapentin (used to treat her Feline Hyperesthesia Syndrome). We’ve also been using Feliway in the living room and sunroom since the beginning of the year – primarily to continue to help Patch settle in, but it seems to have at least a bit of a calming effect overall on the rest of the crew as well. Every little thing helps!

 

 

As for the rest of the troop, Tux and Midnight still continue their wrestling matches – most often when Midnight has the “hangries” before feeding time. We did a Chonk Scale measuring of the gang on Twitter earlier this year, but will have to update it at this point. Oreo is no longer the biggest of the group – that honor being taken over by Tiger, with Midnight not far behind. Even Patch has gotten himself quite the belly going now. In the mean time, Tux still remains the Fine Boi, and Oreo really has trimmed down and looks about the size he was before he moved in under the sunroom back in ’22 or ’23 was it now? Oreo, Patch, and Hershey has their check-ups earlier in the year, and Tux, Midnight, and Tiger have theirs coming up later this month.

Overall, we’ve been pretty lucky with them health-wise. Patch especially, after his dental surgery has recovered nicely, and slowly but surely has been getting more relaxed and comfortable in the house. He has even let every other member of the family pet him, so his trust is beginning to build. Maybe one day, he’ll end up a lap cat like Tux, Tiger, and Oreo. Speaking of which, not only has Oreo shown the biggest improvement in terms of weight, but he has gone from a complete “don’t come near me” cat to a needy lap baby, much to Tux’s chagrin. The two of them still are the pair that do not get along at all, but aside from one possible confrontation that left Oreo’s hindquarters torn up pretty bad in the Spring, we’ve gotten them to the point where they just avoid one another, and at least tolerate each other when in the same space. Oreo has even managed to make himself at home on the bed during the overnight hours, so it’s a good thing we inherited my sister’s larger bed from Mom’s house this year.

The feral with the biggest health issue we have now is Oreo. Aside from his mauling which took a few weeks to recover from, we have found out that he is the lone cat of the group to be FIV positive, and also has a heart and blood pressure condition on top of that, which requires medication. So both “mini bear” and I get to take our heart meds twice a day! Unfortunately, his mouth is in the same condition that Patch’s was last year, so we will have to get that problem addressed this coming year now that we have his other issues under control. It’s really a good thing that he decided to move under the sunroom, and eventually come into the house, otherwise might he not have made it outside another year. Even the vet said his name should be Lucky because we were able to get him taken care of before things progressed too far. Fortunately for us, I made the wise choice to get pet insurance for Oreo prior to taking him to the vet for his first check-up, so that has helped with some of his expenses. We’ve learned our lesson from Patch.

We’ll have the rest of the gang on policies as well just to cover our bases at this point. Like I said, we’ve been lucky ourselves that they’ve mostly have had good health for being outside cats. But they are getting older now, and have crossed over that line into being senior kitties, and we know Tiger in particular will be needing regular dental cleanings, so the insurance will at least be paying for itself in the long run. As we draw close to the end of our fifth year with the ferals, and their age, I’ve been reflecting more and more on their departed brothers. Cookie’s loss in particular still hits me pretty hard, even as the second anniversary of his passing approaches. I really wanted him to have more time surrounded with love in a safe home, but it was just not meant to be. Then there was the 10^th Anniversary of Willy’s passing this Spring, Tigger’s 25^th back in February, and Flash’s 10^th upcoming six months from now. And of course, there will be Gandalf’s 27^th in March of next year. It’s hard to believe at this point that more than half of my life has been filled with cats, and I have been mourning the loss of some for almost half of my life. I kinda think that come 2026, I’ll dedicate a few entries of the Tales to the kitties of the past, because there are even more to talk about, like Shadow, Hershey I, and Shamrock.  There are blurbs for some on RMG website, but I think it will be nice to revisit the good memories, even though they are tinged with sadness. So, if I don’t make it back to this space this year, consider this a promise to myself to tell some more tales of the cats who have shaped who I have become in my waning years.

Tales of the Feral Cats: The Year of the Feral

As we bring 2024 to a close, it’s time to reflect upon our journey with the Feral Gang, and update where we are at this point. First on the list would have to be Patch since our last update left us in the air on the state of his health – in particular, his mouth and teeth. Overall, Patch has been doing fabulous. He has adjusted well to being indoors and continues to look much better. He had his appointment with the dental specialist December 12^th, who recommended a complete extraction of his remaining teeth, and an overall cleanup of his gums and any roots that were left from the teeth he lost. The good news was that his mouth was an improvement over what it was in the summer, prior to the first procedure with our regular Vet, but it would still slowly degrade over the course of the upcoming year. So we went ahead with the procedure, as costly as it was going to be just so we can relieve his pain and get him on track to a state of complete fitness. He did gain some weight, and clocked in at 8 lbs. at the hospital.

The procedure went smoothly, and fortunately, this time around his recovery was completely normal with no surprises or side affects. He continues to eat well, and is still the affectionate cat he was before all the trauma of having two dental procedures. He is still skitterish, but will accept some pettings from myself and our youngest, so we hope with time his trust with us will improve and he will be a more confident and affectionate house cat like the rest of the gang has turned out to be. As a side note, if anyone would like to help us offset the cost of Patch’s procedure, it would be much appreciated! You can see his GoFundMe here: https://gofund.me/ae07c380.

As for the rest of the gang, Oreo is becoming more and more affectionate and less fearful of the other members of the household – both human and feline. He just loves getting affectionate rubs and enjoys spending nights on the living room couch. Tux still does not like him, but they manage to avoid confrontations for the most part. Big Boy Oreo has also trimmed down a lot now that we can more easily manage his food intake in the house. He’s still on the chonker side, but can at least jump up on our living room side tables and the cat trees we have around the house without much difficulty.

Tiger and Tux had their annual check-ups in the fall, and are in good health overall. Tiger could due to lose some weight, along with Midnight, and it looks like an annual dental cleaning will be in his future as well. Other than a case of tapeworm, which we already suspected and saw signs of, there’s not much to worry about health-wise with the boys and our girl Hershey. We picked up some de-wormer and that hopefully cleared them up for good.

The two big trouble-makers are Tux and Midnight. They still tussle like my brother and I used to do, and Tux tends to get aggressive with the rest of gang on occasion – giving Tiger a good chase every now and again, but nothing worrying in terms of being overly aggressive. A few good play and cuddle sessions seems to keep the worst of it in check – as long as Hershey isn’t being too much of a toy hog. She just loves the feathered wands and we often hear her growling and walking around with the feathered end in her mouth. It’s also inevitable to find every single one of them in a different spot when we wake up in the morning from where they were left the previous evening. Our senior kitty still has the pep in her step.

Out of all of them, aside from Hershey’s grubbing for food every chance she gets, Midnight has been the most rascally. His usual MO for the early mornings, when the hunger pangs hit, has been to walk along the headboard of our bed, meowing and knocking things to the floor. When that ceased to be as effective as he desired in getting us up out of bed to fill up the food bowl, he has switched to scratching as the carpet and door of the room adjacent to our bedroom. If that doesn’t end with success, or with me putting the close hampers in front of the door, it will be back to the headboard and reaching out to claw at the pillows. And somehow, inevitably, that also means clawing at the top of my head – albeit in a gentle enough fashion not to draw blood, but forcefully enough for me to feel the rake of claws across my scalp. It used to be just filling up the community bowl with kibble was enough to sate him, but now I am finding that he is doing it even with food left in the bowl, so he is much rather desiring his full breakfast at 1:00 AM now. Of course locking him out of the bedroom is not an option. Besides his inevitable scratching at the door, Tux, Tiger, and Hershey have their spots picked out on the bed every night, and Tiger does not like a locked door for any reason, let alone any necessary bathroom breaks in the middle of the night they might need – as my shoes discovered a while back when we tried that one night. So now we have to figure out how to keep Midnight in check until we decide when breakfast time should be.

As for those still remaining outside, we’ve seen Brownie a couple of times over the last few months, but that’s pretty much it. We did catch a glance at a new feral today – a grey and white tuxedo looking feline, but none of the others we have seen over the course of the last few years. Unfortunately, no signs of Scruff nor Catlyn. We had snow right before the Christmas holiday and I made it a point to look for any kinds of tracks in the snow over those few days, but nothing except for a solitary raccoon has made their presence known around the house. I still hope that perhaps we can at least catch sight of them one day to at least know they are still with us somewhere, but the unfortunate reality is that the outlook hasn’t been good for some time. That will probably be my biggest regret that I didn’t somehow do more to try to rescue them and get Catlyn back home where she belongs and reunite Scruff with his two brothers.

Anyway, hopefully 2025 will see more happiness with the troop than sadness, as we are nearing the anniversary of losing Cookie in a few weeks. But time to reflect on that at that time. For now, we’ll just enjoy the shenanigans of the ferals, and hope to give them the love and joy that they have brought to us. A Happy New Year to all of our cat friends and followers out there. May the coming year be a bright and peaceful one for you all.

Tales of the Feral Cats: The Summer of ‘24

It’s hard to believe that that summer is almost unofficially over already. It’s been three months since our last entry. Life itself has kept us busy, as it usually has. It’s not easy working two jobs – amazing how the amount of free time just withers away once you get in that set routine. But now it as good a time as any for an update on the gang.

First up, I guess the bad news is that we haven’t seen any of the outdoor cats since we brought Patch into the house back in March. Scruff has remained missing in action all this time. There was one evening back in late June or early July where all the cats were getting rammy and running around the house, looking out of the various windows. Turns out a cat was passing by the house, heading towards the neighbor where Patch, Scruff and Tiger used to take up residence. Shannon heard the meowing, but we never saw who it was. I set out a bowl of food near grove separating our properties, but no one came to eat overnight – not even the wildlife. That was the last indication of anyone coming around. We don’t set the bowl out any more as the raccoons and possum make the most of the meal (and our recycling cans) a few times a week, so it’s really just a waste unless we get some sign that the ferals are still coming around. It still chokes me up that I wasn’t able to get Scruff, or the other neighbor’s lost cat – Catlyn. I wish I had just a little more time, then we could have made sure that everyone got inside and was safe and sound. It just wasn’t meant to be, I guess. We can only hope that they are still out there – or that someone else was able to take them in. Fortunately, we weren’t the only ones leaving out food, water, and shelter around the area. But it’s hard to be optimistic when there are known predators out there, as well as being near a busy truck driven street.

The good news though, is that the members of the gang that we have managed to rescue have all settled in nicely. Oreo and Patch are still finding their ways a bit. Oreo has had the roughest time, as Tux has not taken a liking to him, and will go after the big boy on occasion. Amazingly enough, it seems Oreo has turned out to be the most timid of the bunch. He was quite the bully outside, but can be afraid of his own shadow at times now. But he has turned into quite the love bug – demanding pets whenever he is not taking his extended naps out in the sun room. He’s still quite the pig, however, so we need to watch him carefully at feeding time, otherwise he will get spurts of bravery and head right for everyone else’s bowl, no matter who may be there. Other than his weight, he seems to be pretty healthy at this point, so we can stave off any trips to the vet until next year, when he comes due again for his annual shots. Fortunately, the local rescue we were able to work with in getting him squared away during the Spring, took care of that, so now we just have to work on getting him used to having the entire house as his stomping ground. He’s has just claimed the basement and the sun room at this point, which Tux hasn’t helped with obviously.

Patch has fared a little better on that front. Tux kind of avoids him for the most part, like he avoided Cookie. Patch still is wary of most of us, but his health issues haven’t helped with that. He does like to explore the house more, but that also is partly attributed to us needing to have kept him contained to the upstairs after we brought Oreo in, and then again in July when we had his first dental procedure. We got him to the vet for his initial check-up back in April along with Hershey, who was due for her annual check-up. Obviously Patch was none too pleased, but at least we were able to get blood work and an initial go around with him. We’ve been pretty lucky all around that most everybody has had good health, with the exception of Cookie. Turns out Patch is another hard luck case in regards to his mouth. He’s been healthy otherwise, but his mouth turned out to be in worse shape than I thought. Even the doctor said it was pretty bad, and he was putting it mildly. His gums were filled with infection, and he was missing a lot of teeth. The doctor recommended a dental specialist, but we made an appointment for our vet to do some of the basic dental work to buy us, and Patch some time. We finally got him in for an early July appointment, after our June vacation, and it went downhill from there pretty quickly.

The procedure itself went as well as it could go under the circumstances, but the doctor noticed some swelling near Patch’s tongue when he came in to do the extractions (he needed to remove 4 teeth that day), after the initial cleaning procedure. So we got some antibiotics and were told to bring him back the next day or the day after to check on the swelling. Well the next 24 hours was brutal. By the end of the night one side of Patch’s face showed signs of swelling. So we kept him in one of the downstairs bedrooms to keep the other cats away from him, and to make it easier to get him in the carrier and back to the vet the next day. Unfortunately, he managed to get out of the room without us knowing, so I spent the better part of a couple of hours after work the next day trying to find him. Turned out he was hiding up in the rafters in the basement near the stairs where the beams and the duct work for the air conditioning make an effective hiding hole. The swelling was much worse at this point. It was nearly his whole face. He was also bleeding from the mouth (a little of which was expected), but also drooling quite a bit, with more discharge from his nose, like he had a severe cold. He was obviously very stressed at this point, and trying to get him into the carrier did not help the situation. I had to close off a lot of the house and chase him a bit before I finally got him cornered and into the carrier. I never felt so bad in my life. All I wanted to do was comfort him and take away his pain, and there was nothing I could do.

Getting to the vet didn’t make me feel any better. Even the doctor was extremely concerned about the reaction Patch was having to the procedure. He gave Patch a steroid shot to try to get the swelling down, as well as additional steroids to give him orally at home. He also was going to call us daily to check on Patch’s status and have us bring in back in a week if things seemed to be getting better. The steroids seemed to help with the swelling, but now Patch wasn’t eating, and of course trying to get him to take medicine was an ordeal as he wanted nothing to do with me. So we had to quarantine him in the upstairs spare bedroom. We tried to block off all the few hiding places there were, but he somehow managed to get under the bed the first night, so that turned out to be an ordeal getting him out from under there, which resulted in me essentially taking the mattress and box spring off the bed – in a relatively small room. The next night he managed to find a way under the dresser, after I ensured that the bed was no longer an option for him. After that, it seems our cat proofing worked as his only recourse was a box we left up there for him to hide in, but made it much easier to get to him in the least stressful way.

Unfortunately, when we got him back to the vet, he had lost nearly two pounds from not eating all but two or three times in the course of the week. The swelling was more manageable at that point, but during that time, it seemed he had an issue with his left eye (not unironically the same eye that Scruff had the infection in), but that appeared to resolve on it’s own after a few days. So it may only have been an irritation, or a result of the facial swelling. At any rate, we got additional medicine for him, and the doctor made a call to a dental specialist to see what else could be going on. Of course I should mention that during the dental procedure, the doctor discovered that Patch had a fungal infection in both of his ears (which we suspected anyway), so in addition to the steroids, we were giving him ear drops – or at least trying anyway. We did get some good news from the dental specialist in that Patch’s reaction wasn’t very unusual, though it was the first time our vet encountered it), and there is a condition that can cause it – the name of which escapes me now because I’m just not good with things like that. But we got medicine to stimulate his appetite, and another oral drug to give him instead of the steroids. After that, it was just another waiting game. But at least at this point, after a couple of days, we finally began to see some noticeable improvement. The appetite stimulant worked like a charm, and the new medicine seemed to continue to reduce the swelling and reaction. Patch had two more trips to the vet for the rest of the month, and gained some weight back both those times. The second and final time showed a complete reduction in the swelling, to the point that the doctor was even surprised how good he turned out to be. So the month of hell was finally over, for all of us.

The bad news is that Patch’s mouth is still not in great condition and he will need more extractions (at this point I don’t know that he will have any teeth left). He will need to see a dental specialist no later than this fall to prevent his condition from worsening, and that terrible reaction from blowing up like it did this time around. But we have at least got a couple of months to decompress and work on getting his trust back. He at least has the run of the house again, and seems to have gotten back to his normal self at this point. All medicine is done, and it seems we even managed to get rid of the ear infections.

Thank God the rest of the gang have turned out to be OK. Tux and Tiger are due for their annual check-ups at the end of this month, but everyone has been happy and healthy so far. Heck, we even get some times we every single one of them is actually coexisting in the same room peacefully! Can’t ask much more than that. Tux and Tiger still take turns chasing each other off the bed at night, but have also turned into the biggest (not in size mind you) two lap cats we’ve had since Willy and Gandalf. Tux and Midnight still get into sibling tussles on a regular basis. Hershey and Oreo still try to eat everyone else’s food if we don’t pick the bowls up. Midnight gets jealous whenever we give someone else attention. Tux needs hugs and nuzzles for at least 15 minutes every day when I get home. And everyone loves staring down the rabbit that has made the back yard home from their various spots in the sun room. Outside of Patch’s health issue, and Tux’s resentment of Oreo, I don’t think we could’ve have gotten luckier in having six cats able to coexist as peacefully as they do under one roof. It’s been stressful at times, and plenty expensive when the food bill comes around, but nothing gets me more emotional than knowing that we have (hopefully) made the lives of six strays (plus our old boy Cookie in Heaven) better than they would have had outside. And the love they give in return makes it all worthwhile.

Tales of the Feral Cats: And the Rest

I’ve finally sat myself down to finish the tales of the wandering ferals, but first I wanted to expand a little more on something I mentioned at the beginning of Oreo’s story. That would refer to those animals that brought me to the point I am at today, starting with our first family pet, for that is where all the tales begin – where I found my love of animals.

She (or he – I can’t even remember at this point considering I was just a wee lad) was a German Sheppard named Dusty. Today, all I have left are a couple of memories, and the photo albums over at Mom’s house. One memory was playing with Dusty in the backyard, spraying the water hose and her running around the perimeter of the yard like a dog possessed. Another is standing by the fence looking across our neighbor’s back yard and calling to her, waiting anxiously for her to appear at the gate of the pen she was being kept in, and then talking to for a few minutes every day after getting home from school. At some point, we had to give her up, so our next door neighbor, who owned a chicken slaughter house on the corner as part of their property, took her in.

I don’t remember why we have to give Dusty away. I never really asked either. I was still young at the time, and my brother probably an infant – which could be the reason. The answer doesn’t really matter now. I just remember missing her and feeling happy every day when she would stand at the gate across their backyard and wag her tail at me. Then one day she stopped showing up at the gate. I never saw her again after that. Years ago, at a family gathering, Dusty became a topic of conversation. My parents presumed that the neighbor (who also had a couple other dogs as well) were feeding the dogs the chicken scraps and Dusty most likely died from ingesting the bones at some point. She was still a younger dog at that time and had a lot of years left to her. They said they always regretted giving her up and wouldn’t have done it had they had the chance to do it over again.

Dusty was my first pet, and I have never been without one since. We had hamsters and fish as kids, and always had a dog. After Dusty, there was Blackie – a little black mutt of a dog that my dad got from a military family who had to move and couldn’t take him with them. Then there was Indy – a tick beagle who was none too bright, and a little mean, but still loved nonetheless. After that, it was Fox. He was an American Eskimo Dog who my sister picked out as the next family pet. By that time I was finishing college and off on my own not long afterward, where I was introduced to cat ownership, and of course there was our wackadoodle, Marley. And let’s not forget about our turtle, Shelby who wandering into the back yard more than 10 years ago now.

So like the many animals I have had in my life over the years, there have been more than our Magnificent Eight that have come and gone. Truth be told, even back at my childhood home, there was a colony of strays and ferals that were around for years – and still may be for all I know. I don’t remember much about them save for one gray kitten that my parents had found on our side porch one day. I think they ended up taking it to a local shelter the next day or so. I think I can remember that even back then, I was hoping we would keep the kitten so it would be in a safe home, except for the dog being there, of course. But for our modern times, the first feral I recall made an appearance not long after we had been living in our current residence.

This one was a young tan and white Calico type of cat. Probably about a year or so old, based on the size I remember it being. We ended up dubbing this one Hershey which, if you have seen our cat highlights on my website, would be the second cat named as such. So in all reality our current Hershey is the third. But Hershey II was only around a couple of times over the span of a week or two at the most. I remember trying to get it to trust me using some tips from cat expert Jackson Galaxy, but it just wasn’t meant to be.

The next pair I remember were actually pets of a neighbor who had moved in not long before we started seeing them. They had a daughter and apparently had gotten her two young cats that were pretty much left free to roam. One was a bright orange tabby, while the other was white and tan, not unlike Hershey II. Unfortunately, the neighbors weren’t the most savory of people and we are sure the cats weren’t taken care of very well. The orange one ended up spending a couple of days in our house as it was very friendly, and came right in. At the time we thought it was just a stray, until I say the girl outside one day looking for the cat. The other one tended to wander up and down our fence in the back, but because we had Marley at the time, usually didn’t get too close. About a week or so after we gave Creamsicle back, he ended up wandering into the back yard, looking for more food, and found Marley instead, who promptly chased him into the tree. I managed to get him down and back into the girl’s arms, but that was one of the last times we saw him. Unfortunately, I think both ended up wandering off because of Marley, and in search of better living conditions, but we never saw them again.

And that’s all I can recall up to the point where our tales officially begin. I don’t recall exactly when the next adventurer made his (or her) appearance. I think we may have identified our current seven by this time, and it may have been as long as a year after the trio first appeared that we finally spotted a tortoise shell colored cat coming up onto the porch to grab some of the grub. This one was definitely the most feral, as the slightest noise would send it running, so we were never really able to get too close to him, but we would be able to spot him coming around every once in a while, if we happened to be looking at just the right time. This one we called Brownie. We were spotting him at least a couple times a month at least through 2022. Last year, however, we didn’t have much luck – maybe catching a glimpse a three or four times at the most through the year. At this point, I don’t even recall the last time we saw him. I think Oreo had a lot to do with that once he took up residence under the sunroom, unfortunately.

The next one that came around on an even more regular basis than Brownie was a black and gray striped tabby we called Smokey. He started showing some time in 2022, and made a regular habit of waiting in the neighbor’s driveway across the street for the morning feedings. Like Brownie, though, he never got too close when we were around, and was quick to make an exit when he thought danger was around. He also had a couple of tussles with Midnight that I had to break up in the early morning hours after I let our wandering boy out without realizing that Smokey was there. Smokey got pretty reliable and we would even see him throughout the day on occasion as well, up to the time that the neighbor’s daughter and her family moved back in with their two dogs early last year. With the dogs wandering around Smokey’s usual track, we think he felt it was better to find safer hunting grounds. The last time we saw him was probably about a year ago now, at this point.

So outside of our current troop, Brownie and Smokey were the regulars, but there have been a few others that have come and gone over the last four years. The first one, who showed up before we spotted Brownie as I recall was another all black cat we ended up calling Ebony. Now like Tux and Oreo, we didn’t realize Ebony was a new arrival until one day when she was out near the driveway one night, and Midnight had come wandering along to head into the back yard. I could hear some growling and hissing from inside the house, and took a look outside of the upstairs bedroom window. Low and behold, there was Midnight cautiously trying to make his way through the gap in the fence as Ebony was making her displeasure known at the edge of the driveway near the woods. She was definitely a little smaller than Midnight, but that was just about the only difference we could make out. Over the next couple of months, we would see her coming and going around that side of the property, where Patch and Scruff would also come and go. She wasn’t as skittish as Brownie and Smokey, but still wouldn’t let us get to close – which was the main way we were able to tell when it wasn’t Midnight, who had no trouble coming up to greet us for pettings. The last time we saw Ebony was a day or two before a big summer thunderstorm came roaring through one night in 2022. Every once in a while, however, while heading down the main road towards town, we’ll see a black cat in a field not far from the house, or one in front of a duplex that also shows signs of taking care of strays with a shelter and food bowl out on the porch. So we do hope that perhaps it might be Ebony we see and that she’s doing OK.

There are only two more that I can recall as I wrack my brain. A white and gray tuxedo type cat I saw once, at the edge of the driveway by the woods. It was just sitting in the grass there one late morning a couple of years ago. I tried bringing it out a bowl of food and calling to it, but it ran off around the edge of the fence, and we have not seen hide nor hair of it since. We did give it the name of Cloudy, however, on the chance that it would come back around again.

The final entry is another orange cat that showed up in the early mornings for a week or so, again in the neighbor’s drive way across the street. The difference with this one, however was that it had a flea color on, so we assumed it was just a kitty who had gotten lost. Unfortunately, it also had a tussle with Midnight one morning, and then with Smokey another day. We haven’t seen it since that week, which was probably at least a year and a half to two years ago now (damn time sure has been flying). Hopefully it made it back home safe and sound.

Thus ends the tales of the feral cats, with the exception of Catlyn. She was our neighbor’s cat on the other side of the house – opposite of the woods. She escaped one day while they were having work done on the basement a little over a year ago. I tried trapping her and just missed getting her a couple of times before they moved out. She is now, unfortunately, a member of the lost kitty club. We think we’ve seen her a couple of times since this past Fall, after Patch and Scruff chased her off one evening. I’m hoping to be able to get her eventually, but I don’t hold out much hope at this point – we haven’t even seen Scruff in more than two months, and I can’t help but feel I’ve let them down, and failed to finish the rescue mission before time ran 

It’s been an unexpected and interesting journey, these last four years. A lot of joy, and some sadness to go along with the ride. I can only hope that I’ve made a difference somewhere. I hope that they feel that I saved them as much as they have saved me.

Tale of the Feral Cats: Rescue Me

This is another interlude of sorts as has a tendency to happen when life keeps you busy, I haven’t had much time to sit and compose the stories and ruminations of the other strays that have come and gone over the years quite yet. But there have been some developments on the home front in the last month and a half, as two of the final three of our gang have now made their way inside the house.

It started back in early March as things continued on pretty much as normal with Scruff and Patch coming and going, while Oreo maintained residence under the sun room. He seemed to start getting a little more aggressive, however, and we noticed him watching the front of the house on a regular basis, and on occasion giving Scruff and Patch the run off. As we were also trying to avoid another flea infestation, we stopped letting him come into the sunroom, even during the bad weather days, much to his dismay. I kind of think it fueled his ambition to go after Scruff and Patch, as well as a couple of the other stragglers who still showed up every now and again. He must have thought that we would let him in just to keep him from running off everyone else. But unfortunately it was not to be – quite yet.

By this time, with Cookie gone, and both Patch and Oreo having visible health issues, I thought it was time to see if we couldn’t get them taken care of. I had ordered a trap on line with the intention of capturing Scruff, since he still kept his distance. There was also the need to try to rid ourselves of the wandering wildlife that would come looking for the food as well, plus the hope that we could still catch Catlyn, the former neighbors lost cat. So I started putting it out the week around March 7th. The first victim turned out to be another Tuxedo cat we had never seen before, and already having too many now as it was, I let the poor guy (or gal) go, and it ran off, without showing hide nor hair since. The raccoons were a bit smarter though, and found out they could grab the food off the plate from the back of the trap. So the next day I moved it away from the edge of the porch so they couldn’t reach it without going in – or so I thought. They simple grabbed it from the sides while on the porch.

A couple days later, during the early morning on the 7^th, as I was going through my normal work routine, Scruff and Patch made their appearance for breakfast. At that point, it seemed they weren’t hanging around together as much as they had in the past. We would frequently see one or the other on an almost daily basis, but not so much both at the same time. Of course I didn’t give it much more thought than that. I left the bowl out for them to chow down and headed off to work. Scruff seemed a little leary with the trap on the porch, but I hadn’t yet gotten ready to bring him in, so kept the food in its usual spot on the other side, away from the trap. Unfortunately, I seemed to have delayed one morning too long. That was the last time we saw Scruff.

Patch kept showing up a couple days here and there, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon or evening for dinner for about a week afterwards. But during that week, he quickly started looking worse for the wear. It looked like he lost a lot of weight, and didn’t look much bigger than Cookie at that point, and it seemed his fur had changed as well, his distinctive tabby stripes had faded. He felt a lot more thin and frail when I had the opportunity to pet him. At that point, I was trying to figure out the best way to get him in the house, as I didn’t think he would bother with the trap, having already been trapped twice before – once when he was TNRed, and the second time during the previous summer or fall when we were attempting to catch Catlyn before the neighbors moved out. But he saved me the trouble. I forget which day it was now, exactly – somewhere from the 15^th to the 17^th. It may have been that Sunday I was off, but it doesn’t matter much now. Anyway, in the morning, we heard a bang outside, and I knew it was the trap going off. So I got up to see what we had caught this time, and it turned out it was Patch. So I carried him in the trap right to the sunroom and let the poor guy out. He didn’t make a sound while in the trap, and barely moved. It just seemed like he knew it he needed help, and was ready to come in. The look on his face was one that cried “Rescue me now, please.” So at least we had Patchy.

 

Now it was time to turn to Oreo. Early this year, I had talked to one of the people who set up and runs their own cat rescue, and that Sunday, she just happened to inquire about the cats that were outside, and gave me the number of one of her volunteers that lived not too far from us. So we gave him a call, and he came over to the house to take a look at Oreo, primarily to make sure he was ear tipped. After confirming that, he noticed how badly Oreo’s fur had become matted on his back, and took some video to show to the rescue’s leader. They decided the best thing to do would be to take him to one of the regional rescue’s shelters and have him taken care of with shots and a shave. So it was time to bring the big boy back into the sunroom.

First we needed to move Patch upstairs, to keep him separated from the other cats since we still didn’t know what was wrong with him, and he hadn’t been vaccinated in all this time. Then it was just a matter of opening the sunroom door and letting Oreo stroll right in. That was the easy part. The hard part was going to be getting him into the carrier so that the volunteer could get him to the shelter on Friday morning. Yup, trying to wrangle a defensive feral cat is not an easy task. Oh, did I mention I am also on blood thinners from my heart attack from a year ago? Well, I got myself all dressed up in my long sleeve shirt and pullover, put on some thick gardening gloves, and enlisted the help of Erin with the wrangling. Then it came down to trying to corner Oreo to a point where I could scruff him and get him right into the carrier. Thinking back, it probably would have made the job much easier if we had emptied the room of the furniture first. But, at any rate, after about five minutes of chasing and coaxing, I finally cornered him behind one of the chairs in a position where I could latch on to the back of his neck. My first attempt missed the mark and resulted in him latching onto my hand with his mouth, but once he let go, I was able to get a hold of his scruff, and lift the big boy into the carrier. I was just thankful that he wasn’t too big to fit. So we called the volunteer and he collected our big boy to stay overnight at his house before heading to the shelter the next morning. I would head there after work to pick him up and get him back home.

So after work, I made the half hour trek to the converted warehouse, and picked up our 17 pound barrel roll. He got his shots, got his shave, and got some flea and worm medicine to boot. We headed on home, and kept him in the sunroom to recovery from the anesthesia, and to monitor for any side effects. He hasn’t left since.

Thus far, both Patch and Oreo have been doing well. Tux has been none to happy, though, and has gone after Oreo a couple of times, so we have had to keep them separated. Patch has been spending his time in the spare bedroom upstairs, where it has been quiet and peaceful for him. He seems to be doing better, but it still thin in terms of body and fur. Unfortunately, it’s going to have to be a case of getting him to one of the rescues so he can get a good home. That’s the one positive, as long as he ends up being healthy, is that he looks to turn out to be another Tiger – heck he even enjoys belly rubs too! I just have to bring myself to make that phone call and hope there is room for him.

Oreo is a different story. He still doesn’t have the disposition yet to be adoptable, so he’s going to be with us for a while. Hopefully we can get Tux to accept the situation and have them co-exist. Right now, Oreo is the one intimidated by the rest of the clan, so he tends to spend his time between the quiet of the basement and the relaxation of the sunroom. We did catch him on the couch once, when we had Tuxy locked away. The good and surprising news is that I am able to pet Oreo on occasion now, so he seems to have forgiven me for the most part for the trauma of being shoved into a carrier. Usually, it’s during feeding time, which is par for the course I suppose, but at least it’s some progress made. I still can’t help but to think of poor Scruff though. As much as we have been able to do these last four years, it still wasn’t quite a job complete. I’m hoping that he shows back up one day so we can get the last guy taken care of and into a home, even if it won’t be ours. But I’m afraid that our luck with the gang thus far has finally run out. I’m sorry I ran out of time to save you Scruff. If the worst has happened, hopefully you have made your way across the rainbow bridge to find Gandalf, Tigger, Willy, Flash, Shadow, Cookie, and Marley waiting to greet you. I miss you all.