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.