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The imp of the perverse is out for me tonight.
Silver died in December, and I decided that after all these years of feeding ferals I could at last catch one for, at the very least, spaying/neutering and release. The only current candidate is the little tortoiseshell I sometimes call Little My, because she's the only one I can touch. I think she was once owned, because the first time I saw her she ran up and headbutted me, though it took a while after that to get her to let me touch her. But she remembers being petted, I'm sure of it, and it took only weeks instead of the months I needed for Hal or any of the others.
So I set up the bathroom for housing...and she didn't show up Friday night or Saturday. Eh, it happens, though rarely two days in a row.
Last night she was there, happy to see me and demanding pets as usual. I managed to get her into the carrier on the second grab; she was not happy about it, she basically panicked, but I had her.
The first thing she did in my bathroom was climb up to the window ledge and howl. I had the window open because that room gets hot very quickly with the door closed, and she is used to winter weather; I didn't want to stress her too much. She hissed at me when I tried to touch her, but eventually ate a dish of wet food.
She cried when I was out of the room, and sometimes when I was in it; judging from the way she acted, I think one or more of the other cats was below the window for a while, though I couldn't hear any answers. I kept coming in to sit with her for a while, but I couldn't stay the whole time.
The last time I went back in, she'd torn a hole in the screen and jumped down two stories.
I could hardly believe it. I grabbed a towel and started out, with visions of her with a broken leg or tail or worse. The lurky Siamese was waiting outside the front door--on the porch steps, even, despite the time--so I backtracked for food, and when I came out and called two of the others showed up as well.
And then she came too, scooting up like nothing had happened. Gah.
She even let me pet her, though I expect she bruised herself good, because she flinched when I got to her hindquarters. But she's using all four legs and her tail seems fine; I can only conclude that her slight weight worked in her favor.
No, I didn't try to catch her again. For one thing, I still have a hole in the screen. I may try again next week, but I think we're both traumatized enough for one night...
Silver died in December, and I decided that after all these years of feeding ferals I could at last catch one for, at the very least, spaying/neutering and release. The only current candidate is the little tortoiseshell I sometimes call Little My, because she's the only one I can touch. I think she was once owned, because the first time I saw her she ran up and headbutted me, though it took a while after that to get her to let me touch her. But she remembers being petted, I'm sure of it, and it took only weeks instead of the months I needed for Hal or any of the others.
So I set up the bathroom for housing...and she didn't show up Friday night or Saturday. Eh, it happens, though rarely two days in a row.
Last night she was there, happy to see me and demanding pets as usual. I managed to get her into the carrier on the second grab; she was not happy about it, she basically panicked, but I had her.
The first thing she did in my bathroom was climb up to the window ledge and howl. I had the window open because that room gets hot very quickly with the door closed, and she is used to winter weather; I didn't want to stress her too much. She hissed at me when I tried to touch her, but eventually ate a dish of wet food.
She cried when I was out of the room, and sometimes when I was in it; judging from the way she acted, I think one or more of the other cats was below the window for a while, though I couldn't hear any answers. I kept coming in to sit with her for a while, but I couldn't stay the whole time.
The last time I went back in, she'd torn a hole in the screen and jumped down two stories.
I could hardly believe it. I grabbed a towel and started out, with visions of her with a broken leg or tail or worse. The lurky Siamese was waiting outside the front door--on the porch steps, even, despite the time--so I backtracked for food, and when I came out and called two of the others showed up as well.
And then she came too, scooting up like nothing had happened. Gah.
She even let me pet her, though I expect she bruised herself good, because she flinched when I got to her hindquarters. But she's using all four legs and her tail seems fine; I can only conclude that her slight weight worked in her favor.
No, I didn't try to catch her again. For one thing, I still have a hole in the screen. I may try again next week, but I think we're both traumatized enough for one night...