From Feral to Family

I honestly wasn’t going to write anything this month, well, not to publish. April in my family is full of love and grief, birthdays, days of loss, and many days of golden celebration.

I could not however, let April pass without a tip of my hat to my stray to stay family of feral cats. Not a chance.

In 2015 my husband and I had lucked out and rented a 10acre property for 1000 bucks a month. We were over the moon. We built gardens, purchased five hens and were doing a food security and resource recovery experiment via our junk removal company. We were enthusiastic stewards of this piece of ground upon which were standing.

Then the rats came. They were drawn by the coops, and the food available therein. Feed and all the delectable veggie scraps from the kitchen.

Now I am not squeamish in the least, I don’t mind, bugs, and mud and all things natural, but I have an un-utterable aversion to rats.

Bears, cougars, wolves, or coyotes, no problem, but when a rat jumps on me while I’m sleeping, and is substantially heavy enough to wake me, I descend into the epitome of female ridiculousness. The chair standing screaming kind.

For several months in the winter of 2016 I was plotting my escape, or quite frankly sternly decreeing my intent to abandon all hope and leave. The day rats jumped out of my dish cupboard when I opened it to get my coffee cup was what almost....almost made me leave the lovely thriving garden we were creating.

On the morning of July 20 2016, a tiny mewling miracle alerted my husband to her presence. I had seen a massive tabby cat at the end of our long driveway through mist and rain many times. He or she seemed almost like a mirage and I was never quite sure what I was seeing because he/she sat there so still, as a statue, beaming her Bast Goddess energy towards me through the space between us. I had been praying in all earnest for assistance with the scourge of rats that had descended upon us.

With a can of the best wild salmon I proceeded to coax and encourage this tiny starving little blue tabby to come to me. She was eager and full of trepidation at the same time. Hunger inevitably won out and she allowed me to pet and speak to her while she devoured her treat. I named her Willow, a decidedly feminine name that was belied by the heroic ferocity with which she proceeded to single cattedly wipe out the population of rats that had been tormenting me.

She became my dear friend and lived inside our house with us. Ever watchful, and a powerful hunter. Taking rats almost as big as herself and eating them without a scrap remaining. It was astonishingly gory and glorious at once.

Willow quite literally saved my life. She spared me from abandoning the sacred work we were attempting to accomplish. Alleviated the mental anguish caused by the pestilent intrusion. My gratitude for this family of cats is immeasurable.

Sadly, Willow vanished one night never to return, right after we had her fixed. It broke my heart a little bit, and I feared we had let her down despite our efforts to civilize her.

Then one day standing in the garden with my husband, we heard it...the unmistakable mews of newborn kittens, this was quite literally a week after Willow disappeared. We followed the sound of mewling to the grass collector bins on the back of our ride on mower. For a moment I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, because there in front of me was another blue tabby. Though she was scared and ran away when she saw us, abandoning her kittens. This was not my Willow, but I supposed one of her less human inclined feral siblings.

Cosmos, one of the kittens from this litter, a friendly attentive and social tuxedo cat, was the second of the feral cat family to deem us worthy of her attention. She was a mother by her first birthday, and a lovely attentive one at that. She gave birth on my deck in a basket directly under my chair. One of her daughters Procyon, and her son, a tuxedo boy we named Biggy, are with me to this day. In fact Procyon, Biggy, Smalls and Morris are the team of barn cats that keep my home and property clear of rat population explosions.

Procyon’s first litter had given us Smalls, a dwarf tuxedo cat that abhors humans but allows us to feed and shelter her, and Morris, son of the most massive feral tabby Tom I have ever seen. Biggs is the last kitten of Cosmos’s last litter, a singleton, he was unusually well fed and very Big. Hence, Biggy, and an ode to an OG Biggy Smalls.

In the spring of 2020, right before the covid lockdown, we got the sad news that our beloved garden/farm was going on the market just 24 hours before the sign went up. I was beside myself and got quite depressed. Trying to find a suitable place for my family, as well as the feral beasts who I supported seemed like a very, very long shot.

Once again, I was guided and supported and found another 7 acre hobby farm to move to. A disappearing resource in my suburban community. In October of 2020 we moved to our new digs. I was worried how I was going to get 4 feral cats to our new abode. Let alone Procyons litter of five kittens that had been located on a trip to the old property to button up our exit.

Thankfully my 23 year old son had a way with the beasts, and was able to get all four, count em four, feral felines into a crate for transport, he also located and crated the newborns.

Procyon and her first litter are the crew here along with her brother. Her second litter, Procyon decided I could take care of and would have nothing to do with. Maybe she knew they needed human contact to not be afraid. I was determined to infuse these kittens with love over fear.

I found most excellent homes for all four of the kittens, where they are all living Cat Goddess lives in the lap of love and luxury! This is my story of Stray to stay, and of feral to Family. As I sit her having my coffee, Blue the Great Great nephew of Willow basks in sun beside me

To all You Spectacular Cat Goddesses, Bast, Sekhmet, and any others. Thank you for hearing and answering my prayers.