That Cat

Ever since we discovered what a rodent-infested house this had been, we knew we would eventually need a cat or two to control the mouse population. For various reasons (including family members with allergies) we knew we could never have an indoor cat, but we were hoping to somehow end up with a feral cat that we could feed and care for very minimally in exchange for keeping the mice and other rodents (and therefore the snakes) away. Most people out in the country have a few, so we knew it would happen someday.

Finally, last fall, our son and daughter-in-law gifted us with one of the feral cats that had been hanging around their house in Muscatine, Iowa–a nice young cat they had been calling Bruce (before they knew he was a she), although we had already decided not to name it because we didn’t want to get too attached. After all, we didn’t know what its chances for survival would be out here–what with the coyotes, hawks, eagles, and such–and we didn’t want to set ourselves up for heartbreak.

So, enter That Cat. Actually a very friendly cat for being “feral” and all. We set out a little food and water for her (but not too much, because we want her to hunt), and hoped she would stick around. It seemed to work, and though there were several times where we hadn’t seen her for awhile and we got a little worried, she always came back.

As it got colder, we doubled down on our resolution not to let her inside, although we were struggling with some guilt about leaving her outside when the temperatures dipped really low and her water froze. Finally we decided to prop the little third garage door open just a bit so she could at least get in out of the wind. Then Kevin cut a hole in the side of an old cooler and we put blanket in it, so she could have a little insulated hut to sleep in. But God designed his creatures in marvelous ways, and her coat kept getting thicker and darker, and she seemed to be just fine.

Then one day in the early spring a neighbor told us his male cats–who usually get along just fine–had been fighting. Uh-oh. That could only mean one thing. That Cat was in heat and our cat population would soon expand. Well, that was actually okay, because we did want her to have one litter so we could have two or three cats. But that would be enough. Over the next few weeks we watched her get bigger and bigger and bigger–until she could barely walk. She wanted inside the house in the worst way and would take every opportunity to try to dash inside. We realized she was desperately looking for a place to have her babies, so we fixed up a nice little box with a towel and blanket in it in the little third garage (which by this time we had begun calling The Cat House). She started hanging around a lot more and sleeping nearly all the time.

Then, when we went to check on her the morning of May 1, there she lay with five little little black kittens, such a little pile of blackness that it was hard to count for sure how many there were. She allowed us to look, but she kept her eye on us, and if we looked too long, she would slowly and gently stretch her arm over her brood and splay her paw to reveal her claws.

We marveled at what a good Mama she was. Here was this feral cat, born in the streets of Muscatine, transplanted when she was barely older than a kitten to a strange place in the country, never taught anything or even had a model, but she knew exactly what to do. Her nesting instincts were so strong. She continued to try to move her babies into the house, and she spent so many long hours nursing them. She got so skinny and she looked so tired, yet she would climb back in that box and bare her swollen underside for those squirming babies who didn’t seem to care about going easy on her at all.

Once the kittens opened their eyes and started moving about more, it was easier to tell them apart. We tried not to name them, but we needed to call them something just to distinguish them from each other. Two are solid-colored–one more gray and one all black. We started calling the gray one Spook and the black one Gus. The other three are all black with white feet and only slightly different markings. One has lopsided white on its face, so we call that one Funnyface, and the other two both have a white strip up their foreheads, one thicker and one thinner–so we call them Thick and Thin. Just because we’re trying not to name them.

Did I mention they are really CUTE?! Oh my, how funny they are rolling around, wrestling and pouncing on each other. Then they love to sleep all piled up.

Here they are venturing out of The Cat House for the first time:

We didn’t want to invest in toys for them, so we put an empty Dr. Pepper box out in The Cat House. Kevin went out to check on them once, and The Cat House was empty. Then one of the kittens came out of the Dr. Pepper box. Then one by one they all came out! The mother waits till they are all piled up asleep somewhere, and then she takes off to go hunting.

It turns out That Cat is quite the hunter, and now she is teaching her babies. Again, we marvel and the instinct God has given these creatures for survival. The first few times she brought a dead animal and put it in the box with the kittens so they could get used to it, I guess–a mouse here, a chipmunk there. Then she started bringing chipmunks that weren’t dead “yet” and allowing the kittens to bat them around for awhile. The other day she brought a squirrel. Yikes! And when they eat them, there is nothing left but the tail. Gulp!

Here is That Cat carrying a chipmunk to her nesting box just before she gave birth. Apparently storing up food in case she couldn’t get out for awhile.

And here is a lovely squirrel she brought home the other day. She and the young’ns ate everything but the tail. Welcome to the wild!

And all that remained was the tail….

And finally (NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART), here is a rather long, but fascinating, video of That Cat teaching its babies how to hunt. 

So this is all well and good, and a great nature lesson, but the neighbors have warned us we will have thirty cats in the blink of an eye. Yes, imagine, within the year–if the females of the litter all had five kittens of their own–and so on and so on and so on….

So the bottom line is this:

WHO WOULD LIKE A KITTEN?! We plan to have That Cat spayed next week before she gets pregnant again, and even though they are so cute and fun to watch scampering around, we just can’t keep all these kittens. We would love to know they are going to good homes. We will keep one or two, but they are nearly weaned, so we’re going to have to say good-bye to a few. Any takers?