Weekend Onesie: Cat's Outta The Bag!

Weekend Onesie: 

Cat's Outta The Bag!

As most stories do, this one begins with a phone call.

"Michael. It's Mom. There's a kitten in my backyard. You need to come and get it."

The Boyfriend and I arrive. The kitten, is hiding behind a board that is leaning against the garage. She is crying incessantly. She's soaked - it had been raining and when The BF calls, she comes running. We know it's a she, because it's a calico - all dark smoky grey and orange tan. She looks like a defeated storm cloud and appears to be about three weeks old.

Bernice

We brought a small can of cat food. Our new friend tears into it with great abandon. So, now that we know she's old enough to eat solid food, we feel better about taking her away from her possibly lurking mother. My Mom mentions that she thought she saw the mother cat near the kitten, but the mother wouldn't let my Mom come near her, nor did she try to get to the kitten. We decide to leave the rest of the food for the Momma cat... a sort of consolation prize... a sad trade.  

Mama Rose

The boyfriend has brought a see-thru backpack, designed to take cats for a walk outside. We load her up and head for his house. She cries non-stop. 

Once at his place, she gets a bathe... a tiny bit of Dawn dishwashing liquid should take care of any potential critters. After the bath, I dry her off with a small towel before swaddling her in a big bath towel. She is still wet, but warm and, tummy full, falls asleep almost instantly. 

The Boyfriend, who has four cats, now has a new mouth to feed. He sleeps that night with his hand in the backpack. He's an exceptional cat Dad. We decide to name her after her guardian angel, my Mom... Bernice.

--- ---

Next day, I drop off groceries for my Mom and just as I am about to leave she mentions that she needs me to take a look under her side porch because she's pretty sure there's "a weasel or something" under there. Her Boston Terrier, Billy, got under there last night and something hissed at him. When she looked between the slats she saw two evil eyes looking back at her, so she's thinking about getting an exterminator. 

Maynard

She opens the side door and I look down at the crack and there... is a tiny kitten nose. So, Bernice (the kitten) was not alone. Suddenly, the story of what happened begins to make sense. Momma cat got rained out of her former place of residence and was transporting the cats to beneath the side porch where she thought they would be safer... but then the rain got worse and that left little Bernice stranded. 

Momma cat was a bit clever about where she placed the other kittens. The wooden side deck was built over a set of double sided cement stairs. She had tucked the remaining kittens on the top step, just under the floor boards of the wooden deck, between a pair of supporting 2' X 4's - so no predator could grab them. Unfortunately, that means retrieving them was going to prove very difficult. I had visions of us having to remove planks from the deck floor. 

Nom-Nom Time

I went to pick up The Boyfriend and he brings the carrier and a can of tuna - it's smellier than cat food and tends to draw more attention. He also brings along Bernice, who is crying in the carrier. That little voice entices one of the kittens out immediately; a black kitten who looks very healthy. 

The Boyfriend hands the black kitten to me and tells me to go in the front yard. I don't know why, but I do as told - he's the expert. The little fellow cries and cries and clings to me for all he's worth. Then, suddenly, my ear picks up an echo. Something tells me it's the Momma cat. I begin to walk around the yard trying to discern where the tiny mew is coming from. After a point, I realize the sound is coming from above my head! I look in the crabapple tree and see nothing. 

Chomk 

(pronounced 'Chonk')

Meanwhile, The Boyfriend is making zero progress with the other two kittens. He calls me back and just as I am about to go, I look up and there, slinking down a tree branch is the Momma cat. She has golden eyes, and beautiful markings - like a golden, Egyptian. She's also skinny as a rail and about one year old. I am thinking... oh, no. A feral Momma cat. Surprisingly, she allows me to scoop her up with one hand and down to the ground she goes. We are both moving toward The Boyfriend and the other kittens, but I bend down and run a hand along her back... she reacts well, receptive, not defensive or frightened. That's a good sign.

Surprisingly, after checking on her kittens under the deck, she goes right into the carrier - the see-through backpack - and allows both the freed kittens to nurse. 

Misery

(The Kitten Formerly Known As 'Hiss')

I realize that I am going to have to slide under the side deck, on my back and try and grab the kittens. The Boyfriend goes to find something to stick between the slats in order to shoo them forward. I take a tiny bowl of tuna and hold it up to the shallow opening where I think the cats are hiding. It's very uncomfortable and, even with my long arms, I can barely reach it. 

Suddenly a little grey face appears. He's very interested in the tuna, but there's no way for him to reach the bowl. I set the bowl down and try shimmying in further. Amazingly, I am able to grab the little fella sort of by the neck and pull him forward. However, he's not having it. He digs his claws into the cement and, given my lack of leverage, he manages to put up quite a good fight. Fortunately, I win. The Boyfriend appears with a plastic cutting board and a yard stick. 

Maynard

I announce my capture and place him in the carrier. Amazingly, Momma cat has no desire to escape. 

Then we turn our attention to the one I have temporarily named, 'Hiss'. Because that is all she does. She's the source of all the noise. She is very upset as The Boyfriend begins moving her toward the edge of the step. He takes his time doing so and she lets him know exactly how unhappy she is the whole way. Finally, a little angry face appears. She has a badly matted eye and when I grab her, I immediately notice how much smaller she is than the other kittens. This would be the runt of the litter and she is a tad malnourished. 

Nom-Nom Time II

We quickly reunite her with Momma cat and make our way to The Boyfriend's house, which has a lovely sun porch with a glass door and two windows that look into the house - one in the dining room and one in the living room. The other three walls of the porch are nothing but windows with white venetian blinds. 

Before setting them free on the porch, we scour the place for potential hazards. The place is routinely a hangout for the other four cats, and a favorite of Tuxedo, the feral we adopted two years ago, so it's pretty much set up for cats. There's a cat tower and a table and a little house with a blanket in it. Also three bikes and some gardening tools. Fortunately, we'd just gotten it set up for the new kitten, so there's a tiny litter box for the kittens, and we find a larger one for Momma, too. We place the tuna in a bigger bowl, in another we place some canned kitten food, and in another some dry food. 

Misery

It's a free for all. The first thing they do? Eat. All the kittens are fine with eating both the wet and the dry food. Watching them tear into the food, all I can think of is... wow, they must have been barely getting by. And when I start to examine Momma cat, who is also wolfing down food, more closely, I realize just how skinny she is and how exhausted. She eats, finds the little cat house with the blanket, and is out like a light. The kittens soon try to join her and... she is not having it. She bats them away and hisses. 

Momma cat is stressed out and needs some quality sleep. We throw blankets around the outside of the little house and soon everyone is sleeping. The black kitten and Bernice sleep nose to nose.

--- ---

During all of this, I continue to learn so much about cats. The Boyfriend knows all this weird stuff - like how you never put their water next to their food because they don't want to poison their water supply with rotting carcasses. He turns out to be full of all sorts of interesting kitten/cat behavioral info. 

Maynard & Misery

Also, I learn, as I sort of knew, that when in crisis mode, I tend to burn a lot of energy. So, after this ordeal, and every night since, I have been exhausted and on the verge of being physically ill. Since this began? My panic button has been pushed non-stop.

Oh... and did I mention? This is my summer vacation. Yes, The Boyfriend and I had decided to take this week for ourselves. We had plans... museums and restaurants and movies and day trips; none of which is happening. 

Every day and night since the rescue has been all about the kittens. And we named them...

Mama Rose

The gray fat one is Chomk (pronounced Chonk) or Sir Chonk-A-Lot. He is so funny. He concentrates so hard when he uses the litterbox. Not the brightest bulb, but so grey-fuzzy adorable.

The black one is Maynard, named after my Dad - it turns out that Bernice and Maynard are very attached to one another, so we've decided that they have to be adopted together. Did you know that there have been studies which show separating bonded kitten siblings has an adverse effect on their long-term health? Well, The Boyfriend did. 

And 'Hiss' became Misery. Also a calico, she has just a tad more butterscotch swirl in her storm cloud, and that's how we tell her and Bernice apart. She's feisty. At first I thought she was a bit more developmentally delayed then the others, but she's catching up and catching on. She's not as steady on her feet and that eye continues to be a bit worrisome. However, she plays with the others, has a great appetite and has finally stopped hissing.

Cat's Outta The Bag!

And speaking of hissing... Momma cat... whom we have named Mama Rose (after our 98 year-old neighbor across the street - and the character in Gypsy), needed about 48 hours of rehab before she started nursing the kittens and accepting them. She can see the four adult cats on the other side of the glass door - three of whom she likes and one she hates. She is super affectionate. And I have a feeling she is the one we will be keeping. 

We think the kittens stand a better chance of finding a good home. And, quite frankly, being only a year old, I think Mama Rose has been traumatized enough for this lifetime. That she managed as well as she did? Pretty amazing. She's more than earned a peaceful, restful home.

Wazz Dis?

They all went for their first vet visit. Mama Rose does not have feline leukemia, so it's highly unlikely the kittens will have it. They can't be tested until they are 12 weeks-old. They are all being dewormed, all had their first distemper shot, and Mama Rose got a rabies shot. 

Two other things I have learned... 

1/ Kittens initially lack the ability to retract their claws... so, that's why they stick to you like Velcro. They also don't retract them when attacking your ankles! Scratch, scratch.

2/ If you leave four kittens in a room full of venetian blinds, guess what will be destroyed when you wake up the next morning? I discreetly tucked all the broken pieces back in, lined them up and retracted them all the way to the top in the open position, so the kittens can't do more damage. This also prevents  giving the neighbors the impression that we're running a crack house. 

Nom-Nom Time III

What's next? 

I have no idea.

I know we have to find suitable homes for all but one. And it's going to break my heart, because once you make the mistake of naming them... you sort of feel like they belong to you. We won't surrender them to a shelter or a foster agency. I have huge trust issues. They are our responsibility, one I, and The Boyfriend, take very seriously.

And the other thing I am dealing with, silently? I fear we didn't get all the kittens out. I have this weird fear/guilt/terror thing going on in my head. What if we missed one? The thought makes me nauseated. But I can't shake it. Such a weird thing. But there it is.

Maynard

Having written this, I am exhausted. My stress level is through the roof. Certainly not the vacation I had planned... but then, again...?

I wouldn't have it any other way. 

I am so grateful they are safe, and fed, and sheltered.

As for what's next? 

Let's let tomorrow take care of tomorrow...

...and hope for the best.

Cat's Outta The Bag II

And here's the soothing sounds of Al Stewart to take us out... 

--- ---

Better days ahead.

Keep your heads up!

Your legs, too? (Hee, hee.)

- uptonking from Wonderland Burlesque

The Year Of The Cat - Al Stewart