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vr_trakowskiAs some of you know, I feed feral cats.
Recently, I've been coaxing the boldest of the kittens (a lovely calico) to come close. We've got to the finger-sniffing stage; I can touch her when she's eating if she's not looking, but she'll dash off and then come back to the food. Progress with this kind is always slow.
A few nights ago, in the dark and rain, I saw a half-grown cat that I thought was one of the four regular kittens; it took me several minutes to realize it was tabby-striped instead of black-and-white, and I was absolutely startled to be able to touch it. It was literally starving; fur stretched over bone.
Last night, it appeared out of the night and screamed frantically at me until I put food down, even stropping my legs a few times--hardly feral behavior. It growled vaguely as it ate, but I figured it was just protecting the food. I stroked a hand down its back; it had some kind of injury on one flank.
Tonight, on impulse, I brought out the carrier, figuring that I could possibly put the first can in there and so lure it in. It didn't quite work that way, but in the end I bundled it in and brought it inside.
It--she, I got a look at the back end finally--is indeed starving. Half-grown, long tail, a handsome tabby coat, and fortunately not nursing. She's got wounds on both flanks and it looks like something tried to rip her throat out.
And she's not only merely cautious--I let her out of the bathroom within the first ten minutes--and talkative, she's definitely domesticated, as she was just trying to imitate a purring fur tippet around my neck and chest.
She's shedding in clumps, she's got itchy ears and open sores, she may be running a fever, and she smells bad. And she's curled up next to me on the couch giving herself a bath after fifteen minutes of as close a cuddle as I would allow, and purring some more. I'll see if there's an open vet tomorrow and pray she's microchipped, though in this neighborhood she was more likely dumped or simply lost.
We're going with "Henrietta" for the moment.
Recently, I've been coaxing the boldest of the kittens (a lovely calico) to come close. We've got to the finger-sniffing stage; I can touch her when she's eating if she's not looking, but she'll dash off and then come back to the food. Progress with this kind is always slow.
A few nights ago, in the dark and rain, I saw a half-grown cat that I thought was one of the four regular kittens; it took me several minutes to realize it was tabby-striped instead of black-and-white, and I was absolutely startled to be able to touch it. It was literally starving; fur stretched over bone.
Last night, it appeared out of the night and screamed frantically at me until I put food down, even stropping my legs a few times--hardly feral behavior. It growled vaguely as it ate, but I figured it was just protecting the food. I stroked a hand down its back; it had some kind of injury on one flank.
Tonight, on impulse, I brought out the carrier, figuring that I could possibly put the first can in there and so lure it in. It didn't quite work that way, but in the end I bundled it in and brought it inside.
It--she, I got a look at the back end finally--is indeed starving. Half-grown, long tail, a handsome tabby coat, and fortunately not nursing. She's got wounds on both flanks and it looks like something tried to rip her throat out.
And she's not only merely cautious--I let her out of the bathroom within the first ten minutes--and talkative, she's definitely domesticated, as she was just trying to imitate a purring fur tippet around my neck and chest.
She's shedding in clumps, she's got itchy ears and open sores, she may be running a fever, and she smells bad. And she's curled up next to me on the couch giving herself a bath after fifteen minutes of as close a cuddle as I would allow, and purring some more. I'll see if there's an open vet tomorrow and pray she's microchipped, though in this neighborhood she was more likely dumped or simply lost.
We're going with "Henrietta" for the moment.