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.
