Tales of the Feral Cats: A Day in the Life

It’s hard to believe that we are reaching the six year mark since this gang of feral cats started to come into our lives … and change our lives in so many ways. We have had many joys peppered with bouts of extreme sadness, but it’s time that I would never trade for anything else. I’ve wondered on more than one occasion where each of the gang came from. They were kittens at some point, and didn’t come into our lives until they were grown up. We never really saw any strays before the Spring of 2020. At best the only cats I can recall from beforehand were one of the neighbor’s two cats, whom they let wander outside. We only saw one a couple of time – a primarily white calico that I think disappeared not long afterwards. The other was an orange one that wandered into our yard, and we thought was a stray, so brought it in (it was very friendly), until a day or two later when the neighbor’s daughter asked if we had seen an orange cat. So back home it went, until a week later when it wandered into our yard again, but unfortunately at a time when our dog Marley was out. The cat went up our tree, and never returned after I rescued it and returned it home. Unfortunately, I don’t think the cats were very well kept after and most likely befell an ill fate not long before those neighbors had moved out.

If there was one thing I’d like to see, if I had some super power like the Witness from Marvel Comics, is to be able to see our gang from the time they were kittens up to the point where they first started wandering around our street back in March of 2020. We know that at some point in that journey, Tiger Patch, Scruff, and Oreo were all trapped as part of a TNR program, due to their ear tips. It also explains the latter three’s reluctance to be as friendly as the rest. Tiger was sort of the enigma, and after the first couple of months, started to actively seek me, and another neighbor out for affection, before he eventually became our indoor lap cat. Cookie, especially is one I really wish I had a history for. He’s been gone for over two years, and losing Oreo last month was like pouring salt on an open wound in my heart. But unfortunately, this is something I doubt we will ever know. We can only make the history with them since they first came into our lives. Every new day makes me cherish the time, and am glad that whatever their stories are, that the chapter written six years ago brought them into our lives. So, what does a typical day look like? I think I need to start at the end of the day, as we ready ourselves for bed.

The late evening begins around 8:00 pm. Midnight usually heads upstairs after dinner to sleep it off on the eldest child’s bed. Like clockwork, he comes rolling down at this time ready for the bedtime snack. The rest of the gang start to pace around the kitchen and up on the counters as we usually get ready for a little snack ourselves. I’ve started getting a few different options for them, especially now that we no longer leave Marley’s old bowl out with a few scoops of kibble to get them through the night. The last couple of years have seen them all put on more pounds than the vet would like to see – except for Hershey, who can’t quite jump up on the counter, and can only get there if we forget to close the kitchen window that leads out to the sunroom. The resourceful little puss learned quickly that she can just climb the sunroom sofa up through the window to obtain whatever foodstuffs we leave out. But with the free feeding now done since late last year, the gang gets a variety of snacks – in less pouch forming proportions. The two main ones are dental treats (except for Patch, who lacks teeth and gets a bit of normal kibble instead), and the lickable Churu snacks, which is probably their favorite. They’ll also get some random things from Blue Buffalo or whatever else happens to be on sale or on clearance. Snack time lasts about 30 seconds, but seems to satisfy them enough. Then it’s back to the usual positions for an hour or so until they know that we are heading off to bed.

Tiger usually plops himself down on the reclining chair, usually plopping next to my wife and gradually easing her out of the chair as he spreads out. Midnight will sometimes head back upstairs. Other times he and Tux head into the spare bedroom, or the sunroom during the warmer months. Patch is the same. Depending on the temperature, he prefers a chair in the sunroom most of the day and evening, or will take up a spot under our bed. Hershey will usually take up a spot on the couch. Oreo loved the bed we had gotten years ago for Hershey (who rarely used it), so would spend the night in that – either in the sunroom, or the spare bedroom during the colder months. During the last few months of his life he would start to come up on the bed after we had settled in and plop himself either between my wife and I, or curl up near in my chest on the other side of the bed. It still hurts not to have him be able to enjoy that comfort for much longer than he had. At various hours during the night, the rest of the gang make their way into the bedroom. Tux and Midnight on opposite sides, curling up in the crook of the back of our knees. Tiger between us, or down by my belly. Patch under the bed, and Hershey floating around in the room somewhere. Sometimes she manages to make it on the bed when one of the others decides they want to settle somewhere else in the house. Then the morning routine begins.

 

Midnight is the first to be up and about, pacing around the house, heading upstairs to bother our eldest if she is getting ready for work, and then begging for food until she leaves. Getting nothing at that point, he starts his rounds in our bedroom, jumping up from my wife’s nightstand onto the headboard, walking across then jumping down on my nightstand and then down to the floor, thudding with all his might with each jump. He’ll hop up on to the cat tree in front of the window, peer out through the curtains, hop down, then jump up onto our dresser – filled with framed pictures – walk across that, on to the printer stand, and finally back down to the floor out to the hallway, and then starts his patrol all over again. After a good half hour or so, if he’s feeling particularly hungry, he’ll start pawing at our heads, to ensure that we know it is long past time to get up and get breakfast in the bowls. Tiger will usually then help out by nibbling on my fingers and arm.

Thus the ritual of breakfast begins. Once I start to stir (since I am the feeder of the gang), they all start to move into action, and rush for the kitchen, except for Tux. He seems to wait until the others are out and pacing in the kitchen and I start gathering up the bowls before he decides that it is indeed time, and not just a false alarm, like one of our early morning bathroom breaks. So I gather up the bowls with everyone sweeping in and out around the room. Oreo used to be the typical cat, weaving in between my legs, and keeping as close as possible. On more than one occasion, I almost took a tumble right over him, no matter how used I was to him being there, he still found a way to be in the exact wrong spot at the right time. Tux will then want to head into the sunroom and play around with his favorite golf ball. Midnight spends him time on the counter, waiting for the first opportunity to snatch whatever food I may carelessly leave unattended for a split second. Patch will rub up against the legs of the kitchen table and chairs, and look for a few pets in the process. I call him my brave boy, as he has shown more and more willingness to be around us as the months have passed. He even lets my wife pet him every once in a while!

Patch and Hershey get their bowls first. Patch will run down the cellar, so I follow and close the door behind me so Midnight can’t get down and eat the food. Patch tends to take the longest to eat, so needs the peace and quiet while the rest of the gang are finished, literally within 60 to 90 seconds. I don’t even recall why he prefers the cellar. I think it was because he spent a lot of time down there, being a place of quiet and solitude compared to the rest of the house, during his first few months inside, so he’s just used to it now. Hershey gets fed in our bedroom as she gets a dose of gabapentin with each meal for her Feline Hyperesthesia Syndrome, and because she needs specialized veterinary food because of her age. So while they get their bowls, Tux is usually done with play time and at this point is in the kitchen wrestling with Midnight on the floor. Tiger all the while has assumed his position of safety on the kitchen table. Oreo was usually third in line, and was fed in the sunroom. Tiger gets his bowl on the table, usually offering a whispery meow as I bring it over, with him reaching and trying not to fall off the table. Tux and Midnight then start their duet of meows as I bring Tux’s bowl to the floor, and hold Midnight back long enough for him to see that his bowl is in hand and we head off down the hallway to the spare bedroom, where he can be shut away to give the others time to eat.

After the morning feeds, Patch will usually curl up on one of the sunroom chairs and nap until the afternoon. Oreo would usually return to his bed, though sometimes he would curl up on the couch, and remain there until I got home from work, if I’m on the early shift. Midnight used to find solitude for his afternoon siesta upstairs on one of the kids’ beds (usually the eldest as the vampire child never opens the curtains) but occasionally he’ll remain down on the spare bedroom bed. Tiger and Tux will find themselves on either our bed, or the one in the spare bedroom. During the colder months, we’ll also find patch on this bed as well. Hershey will pick another spot on the bed, depending on how crowded it already is, or switch off with Tux on who picks the office chair in the room each day. It’s surprisingly leads to a blissful afternoon with the cats in their second favorite room, after the sunroom. And then peace reigns in the domicile for a few hours.

Things pick back up in the late afternoon as one of us gets home from work, and the dinner hour begins to strike. Dinner pretty much runs the same way as breakfast. The cats pacing, Oreo attached at the ankles, and Midnight and Tux fighting like siblings. Hershey tends to throw the curve ball though. We know that dinner is well past time as she begins to bite toes and ankles – usually those of my wife, when the hangries begin to hit. Other than that, it’s to the usual positions and then we can finally work on getting dinner for ourselves. At that point, Hershey and Midnight make the rounds to each of us, attempting to get second dinner. Hershey tends to be more forceful, waiting for her chance to pounce on the plate and make off with something should we turn our heads for a moment. She is pretty quick for her age when she wants to be. Once, she managed to make it all the way down to the basement with a cheese fry before any of us could even react. Oreo, again during the last few months he was with us, got in the habit of jumping up on the side table on the one side of the couch, walking across the youngest child’s lap and plopping himself down next to my leg as we ate. Occasionally he would get the gumption to see what was on my plate if it smelled interesting enough, and managed to get a lick in or two. But for the most part, he was just content to lay next to my leg and get his pettings while in between my bites of food. It’s another routine that I have missed greatly these last two months. We get another bit if peace and quiet, and then before we know it, the witching hour arrives, and Midnight makes his appearance. Thus starts the cycle all over again. It’s been our routine for nearly the last six years, and I don’t think I would have it any other way.

Tales of the Feral Cats: Oreo Forever Home

After six weeks of fighting, and being loved every day, Oreo lost his battle with Lymphoma on February 10^th. Three days after I posted the last blog entry, I thought we would be bringing to the vet for our final good-bye. But our Vet gave us hope for a little more time, prioritizing quality of life over quantity. He received a steroid injection, and some medication to stimulate his appetite. We brought him home and within a day, we saw a noticeable improvement in his condition. Before the end of that week, he was like his old self once again, moving fine, eating well, and craving cuddles. It reached the point where I didn’t even need to give him the stimulate but once a week, just to make sure he kept eating his normal amount. After two weeks, when the injection wore off, we went to a daily steroid pill, and things continued as normal. It almost seemed like the diagnosis was wrong and that we had nothing more to worry about, but the truth was always in the back of our mind – that his time with us was limited.

I knew we were reaching the end at the first week of February, when I noticed he wasn’t eating as much as normal. Usually his bowl would be spotless; nary a crumb left. But little by little, he was leaving more and more food, so I started giving him the appetite stimulate daily again, but it wasn’t having any affect. He seemed hungry, but simply would not eat the whole serving, which began to be problematic as that was how we were giving him his steroid pill. He would still lap up a full lickable treat, however, so I began to crush up the pill and mix it in with the lickable. That worked for a couple of days, but by the weekend, he had stopped eating his regular food altogether and would only take of few licks of the treat before losing interest. At that point I stopped giving him the stimulate as it obviously wasn’t helping. He was still moving well, and didn’t appear to be in pain. Monday morning showed no change, so I went off to work and called the Vet to make an appointment. I wanted to see if there was anything else that could be done at this point since we weren’t able to get him his medicine all weekend. In the back of my mind, however, I knew and prepared myself for what the conclusion would be.

 

When I got home, it became all the more apparent. He was more lethargic than he had been the entire time he was sick. He was alert and welcomed his cuddles and pets, but it was clear the end was coming. I thanked him for making the next day’s decision at the vet a little easier on my mind, even if it wasn’t easier on my heart or my soul. I spent the night with him in the spare bedroom we had set up for him, so he would not be alone if the end came before we went to the vet. The next morning, I got up and got the youngest child ready for school. I told her to spend some time with Oreo and tell him how much we loved him. After getting her on the bus, I made ready to get Oreo to the vet. Our oldest said her good-byes and then it was time to go.

  

After the nurse did the routine checks and it was just Oreo and I waiting in the room for the doctor, I held him close on the table, gently stroking his fur and telling him how much I loved him and that he was a good boy, as he buried his head in my other arm, which I had around him, giving him as much a comforting embrace that I could. The doctor came in and I brought him up to speed on Oreo’s status and the doctor went through with his examination. Once done, he indicated that there may be a few things that could be done, but we were both at the point where we knew anything else would not give him a meaningful amount of time, and would more stress upon him than the possible benefits to his quality would offset. The paperwork was signed, and the doctor brought in the injections that would end Oreo’s pain, and send him over the Rainbow Bridge. I stroked his head and paws and whispered into his ear how much a good cat he had been and how sorry I was that I couldn’t give him more of the time he deserved to enjoy being a house cat. And then he passed quietly and peacefully. The doctor gave me time with him alone, and when I finally left the room, his fur was wet with my tears, and I bundled him in the towel so he would be warm and comforted.

Today, we brought him home for the final time. The box with his paw print sits on the shelf with Marley’s and all the ones from my Mom’s ferrets, which we kept with us after cleaning out the house from her passing back in May. The box with Oreo’s ashes now sits atop his food bowl in the corner cabinet of the living, just like Cookie’s does. Inside is a baggie with some of his fur I took from the last brushing I gave him. In between him and Cookie is Marley with his collar and tags. On the other side of Oreo is the box that contains Rey, the last ferret who passed before Mom has passed away herself. Oreo is surrounded by his friends both in life and in the afterlife. He once was a cat who had no home, and slowly found a way into ours, and into our hearts. He is now forever home with us in both.

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.