1. How It All Began – Beginnings with Feral Cats

Thus begins my understanding of both domestic cats and community cats.  Not everything is in chronological order, but then, every account has a beginning, a history, and some interruptions and digressions.

One overcast early morning, my cat Clyde whispered: “Every life deserves nine cats.  Your life won’t be complete until then.”  He continued: “Let your meditation be ‘Meow’ as you focus on this touchstone of feline wisdom.”  I’ve always listened to Clyde; he’s never steered me wrong.

Now then, before there even was a Clyde, there was Clyde’s mother, Lexie (HRH Alexandria Regina), who is an old, wise mama cat.  She would spend countless hours teaching her third and last litter of kits, Clyde, Hope, and Hunter.

I remember Lexie talking to her kits into the long hours of one evening in early autumn as they lay around her.  Then, for some reason, that particular evening just slowed to a halt.  Everything was still.  It was 11:45 PM.  I moved in a bit closer to listen and I heard her say with an unwavering voice to her teary eyed kits, “Yes, my little ones, all cats do go to heaven.  If it were not so, I would have told you.”  Time stood still as those words of comfort were quietly engraved on my heart and theirs.  Within moments, they all began purring and snuggled together for a long and comforting nap until their usual 3:00 AM playtime.  Life has never been the same after that.

The sacred moments in our lives and those of our cats are precious.  We hold those moments forever in our hearts with a love that’s ineffable.  And – we are careful who we share those moments with.  One doesn’t throw pearls before swine. (Matthew 7:6)  But, let’s leave that discussion for another time.

Well, I got ahead of myself as I sometimes do.  There are so many memories and I have to pick and choose.

It all really began in the quiet late afternoon of an early winter day in 2006 as the western sun became an orange ball just over the treetops.  As we were nearing our Belvidere home, we noticed a white animal; it was a large cat crawling out of a wide opening storm sewer at the curb.  It was snowing lightly with large, lazy, fluffy flakes hovering above the ground.  Our granddaughter, who was with us, bestowed upon him the name of Snowball.  We know well after that time, that because of Snowball’s age and reputed wisdom (it’s a small neighborhood and things get around here) he was respectfully called the old, wise man, and many went to him for solace, advice, and thoughts about humans.  He’d survived a long time as a feral and knew more than the others.   He truly merited all the respect he received.  Snowball is with us.

We discovered that feral cats will present themselves to people who will help.  We just didn’t know it and we didn’t know that it would happen to us.

I’d never seen him before just as I’d never seen other ferals in the neighborhood.  Perhaps the new pair of glasses I’d gotten allowed me to see.  Or, maybe Snowball was one of the great gifts that have been there for years; I had just never opened this one.

It was a great wake up moment that captured us then and hasn’t let go over the unending months and years.  That moment was a gift in the midst of a normal and sometimes uneventful life.  A short time later, Snowball came to the back porch – actually it’s a 3′ X 3′ step.  He sat there with an expectant look (no, I’m not anthropomorphizing here); we didn’t have any cat food.  Well, who would?

Now, we had some warm roast beef from supper and some cans of tuna on a shelf.  Guess what?  He liked the roast beef and the tuna.  He ate as if he hadn’t eaten in days.  Go figure!

I will stop here and move many, many months later.  My cat Clyde (TNR #009) told me once again: “Every good life should have nine cats – it will make you more human.  And yes, Craig, Snowball was very hungry when he first appeared on your porch.  No one else had noticed him either.  And — no one had fed him so well.  He did look into your eyes and spoke.  You are forever in his heart.”

One man put it so well:  “Cats are a mysterious kind of folk. There is more passing in their minds than we are aware of.” (Sir Walter Scott)

I am thankful for all of you who take care of cats in a variety of ways.  Of course, we never own them.  Remember: “Dogs have masters.  Cats have staff.”

From those of you who volunteer at shelters, in TNR projects, and support others, there are often accounts of overwhelming difficulties, the stories of the love you have for all of your animals, and the unexpected sadness and tears of disappointment when things just don’t seem to work out.  Then there’s the stunning grief of finding one of your ferals out on the road – why do they have to cross the road anyway?  It’s of little immediate comfort at the time, but “All cats do go to heaven.”

Snowball is an old, wise cat.  He likes to remind me of an old saying.  He says it will keep my hopes up and a smile on my face.  “To the world, you’re just a person.  To a rescued cat, you are the world.”  I don’t think there’s any reward or honor which is greater than that, do you?

Please share with me some of your moments with your indoor cats, and your neighborhood cats.

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4 thoughts on “1. How It All Began – Beginnings with Feral Cats

  1. I love the saying you mention “…to a rescued cat you are the world”. Sometimes when I look out first thing in the morning and see 7 or 8 sets of eye staring at me, I feel a little overwhelmed. They are all truly depending on me for their survival! There aren’t many people who ask for feral cats. They just show up and then your choice is to ignore them or help them. It’s that simple. Funny how things just manage to work themselves out and soon you have a new “family”. No matter how overwhelming the responsibility can feel sometimes, going out to feed my feral colony always makes me feel better. They are so appreciative and it feels good to know you’ve helped another living being in an essential but basic way. Thanks for the blog and for sharing your wonderful stories.

  2. My previous cat, Snooky Puss, was head of the household for thirteen years. She had been left in a box on the front step of the animal shelter. What a wonderful kitty . . . an absolutely gorgeous, fluffy, mackerel tabby Maine Coon Cat with a plume tail that would make an ostrich jealous.

    I’m a pastor, and used to live next door to the church I served. During the warmer months, Snooky would often come to church meetings. She’d sprawl out in the middle of the conference table (after walking from one end to the other and greeting everyone); quite often she would stay for the whole meeting. She also came to worship on Sunday mornings, trotting up the middle aisle or weaving between people’s feet, eventually winding up in the chancel where she would flop on the floor in front of the chancel. This actually made the front page of our regional newspaper!

    On one occasion, a denominational executive was speaking at the church; midway through the service, Snooky entered the side door into the chancel, sat down next to him and, after realizing that he wasn’t me, nipped him on the ankle.

    She followed me everywhere I walked, all over the neighborhood — she would trot along behind me on the way to the post office and would sit at the entrance waiting for me to emerge, just like a faithful dog. The townspeople got quite a kick out of it.

    Snooky was the only cat I ever knew who would fetch. She loved plastic milk bottle rings, which I would tweak across the floor. She would run, pick up the ring in her mouth, and bring it back to me. Over and over again.

    She’s been gone for about ten years now, and I still think of her. What a remarkable, intelligent, magnificent animal. I never could understand why anyone would abandon her.

  3. 6 9 Craig, accidentally found somethng called Paws and effect which has conversations between cats, thought you might be intrested since you have related some very interesting conversations by our friends
    Best to you, Bill Johnson

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