Another Floyd Update

Here's another update from Floyd's new family. It looks like he's becoming even friendlier and more social as time goes by.I wanted to give you an update on Mr. Floyd. He's doing remarkably well. I couldn't ask for a better match of personalities. He's turned into quite the laid back, but doesn't take crap from Ludi, my sister's adult male cat.

He rubs up against Ludi, Ludi growls, hisses, but Floyd just seems to shrug it off. Ludi doesn't get nastier with him, despite all the vocalized irritation and I catch them in moments of cuddling or laying together. It's really sweet how much Floyd idolizes Ludi but maintains his sweet disposition. He also does not let him bully him. Just does what he wants to anyways. Ludi, taken back, just walks away in a huff!

Boomer (the chihuahua pup) and Floyd are best friends. They play constantly and Floyd usually wants to sleep with my sister because Boomer sleeps with her. Unfortunately they have a tendency to wake and commense a WWF championship round on top of her, so now Floyd is banished from sleeping in her room! He doesn't seem to like to sleep with me, but occasionally I wake to find him at my feet or attacking my leg.

He is very affectionate. He can't go 30 minutes without checking back in with me, bumping his head against my cheek, or meowing in his sweet, sing-songy meow. He isn't as affectionate with my sister, so I guess that's his way of showing he knows I'm his.

He's grown so much, but is still a small cat. His legs are like stilts and my friends refer to him as "the panther." He's very sleek and regal looking and he is losing his kitten looks. It's amazing how fast they grow! He's probably 8lbs now. Oh and his eyes are bottle green on the inside, gold on the outisde, very striking.

He's become friendlier and less afraid of "strangers." I've started taking him to my best friend's house when we knit and he's getting to know her two kittens that are a little older than he is, maybe a month or two.

He's great, a total furry little bundle of love. I can't thank you enough.

Get ready for National Feral Cat Day!

Certainly, there are a lot of "national name-your-favorite noun" days, but this one is particularly close to my heart these days.

Your moment o' cuteness, part 2

One of the sweetest things I've ever seen is the amazing connection between Rififi and Clementine. They sleep curled up together, groom each other, and chase each other throughout the house. They're the best of friends ... so far. Dan says the real test will come as Clementine gets a little bigger and less kittenish. Will a power play ensue? Only time will tell, but for now, these cats are nothing short of adorable together.

Pico: Just peachy!

This weekend, I had the pleasure of visiting Pico and his new family at their home. Pico has become quite a stunning cat; almost all of his "kitteny" looks are gone. Strangely enough, Pico is definitely the largest of the three kittens now: his paws are gigantic, and he's quite "tall" in cat terms. Pico, who is also occasionally known by the moniker "Peaches," loves to watch the world from the second-story loft in his new home, and enjoys playing with homemade cat toys his people construct for him out of shoeboxes and paper. He's definitely a lucky cat!

An update from Floyd's new family

Here's an update from Floyd (formerly known as Sr. Gris)'s new family:

Little Floyd has grown friendlier by the hour. He's gone from kitty
totally afraid of every move mama makes to a relatively well-adjusted
kitty that hangs out with a big family of 6! He's even made some
progress with the other animals in the house.

I have to hand it to whoever taught Floyd his covering habits... he's
one very dilligent cat. He digs and digs and digs, does his thing, and
then spends 5 minutes covering it. He doesn't seem to throw all the
litter out of the pan either, which pleases me immensely. What a
polite little man.

He's also become very vocal kitty. He's meowed at me several times,
not even in response to me speaking to him. He's got the most delicate
little sound, in fact, it can almost be described as "a squeak."

I woke this morning to Floyd playing in the room. He's very playful.
When he plays with the feather on a stick, he grabs it, hisses at it,
then bites it as if he were a lion, piercing the jugular of his prey.
It cracks me up how seriously he takes his play. Also, you were right,
the balls with bells in them are probably his favorite thing but he
has taken an interest in attacking my fingers as I type.

He's just a ball of joy. Everyone is in love with him and he just gets
cuter by the moment. It has been 2 days and can't even imagine life
without him.

A new life for Sr. Gris ... Floyd, that is

Today I took Sr. Gris to his new, loving home in central Austin. His new adoptive parent is the best I could have ever hoped for for Gris. She even got the exact kind of baby food that he enjoys. Gris' evolution throughout the past few weeks has been nothing short of astounding; he's gone from a painfully reclusive, skittish little soul to a loving, trusting, and hilarious kitten. He actually runs up to Rififi and "marks" her, rubbing his face against hers while purring loudly. What's more, he hyper-extends his tail up over his back, just to show how happy he is. I have no doubt that he's going to be the happiest cat ever in his new surroundings. I'm looking forward to posting pictures of him and his loving new caretaker. Just goes to show you what a little love can do.

To-the-minute update: His new name is Floyd!

Pico finds a new home!

It's my utmost pleasure to report that Pico Hideaway has been adopted by two loving, caring people, Pam and Steve. Yay! They love Pico very much already, and will provide him with a truly beautiful environment in which to live.

I couldn't ask for a better home for little Pico, who, according to updates, is spending lots of time discovering the nooks and crannies of his new residence. Hopefully photos of Pico's new abode and home-life will follow ...

Three faces of change

Before the cats went in for their surgeries, I took a few photos as they sat in their respective carriers. Before you exists a small taxonomy of various reactions to impending change, as evidenced by three formerly feral cats.


Pico chooses to vocalize his opinion about the matter.




Clementine accepts the situation gracefully, albeit with wide-eyed trepidation.




Sr. Gris looks for a way the #^&$ out of the impending experience.

Spay Day

I took the kittens to Emancipet's mobile spay station in South Austin this morning. Even though it was early, the parking lot at the park was full of folks ready to have their cats and dogs spayed and/or neutered. Each of us took a number, and waited in the sun for our numbers to be called. It didn't take long before our companion animals were ushered into the mobile surgery van by friendly Emancipet staff. It really is incredible that you can get your pets spayed/neutered for free: for anyone considering this, here's Emancipet's schedule. I strongly encourage you to to take advantage of this fantastic and compassionate service, if you're in the Austin area.

My sweet friend Esha picked the cats up after their surgeries and brought them home, since I was at work. Amazingly, the kittens seem to be doing just fine. They don't even seem to be in pain at all; Emancipet provides pain medication to dogs and cats free of charge as well, which makes for an easy recovery.

Why "Free to a Good Home" is a bad idea

As we seek loving homes for Sr. Gris, Clementine, and Pico Hideaway, I wanted to pass on some of the worthwhile information that I've learned during this process.

Some folks have asked us, "Are you guys going to put a 'free kittens' ad up somewhere soon?" Here's a really good article from The Animal Spirit that details why "free to a good home" is a bad idea. Here in Austin, some cruel people are actually throwing kittens onto the interstate. It's hard to believe that someone could be that heartless.

"Screen potential adopters carefully," is the advice we've gotten from folks who foster abandoned kittens on a regular basis. It's sad that this has to be the case, but I'm happy to do it, if it means finding a truly good home for our little friends.

Moment o' cuteness

I present to you: your moment o' cuteness.

Thank you.

!!!

I love this photo because Clementine looks so tiny, which she is, and because her tail looks like a little exclamation point. Clementine is getting a lot more adventurous these days, and spends a lot of her time on the porch climbing up the support beams to view the world from new heights.

Portrait of a complex relationship

And speaking of spirited, here's the ever-fiesty Pico making an obvious impact on Rififi's perception of the world. No photo better embodies their relationship.

Rififi's getting really good at the low, throaty growl. And the swatting.

Blue cheese or Easy Cheese? The choice is yours.

The 12th was Dan's birthday, which we spent floating in the pool and having a dinner to end all dinners at the fabulous Zoot Restaurant. (Have you ever eaten a blue cheese tart that made you want to stand up on your chair and sing? I have!)

After our amazing dinner, we headed back home, full of wine and French cuisine. And what better way to end an evening than by socializing a bathroom full o' cats to a larger space?

Having experienced firsthand the power of Easy Cheese used as a training reward with cats, Dan got our supply (used only for cat, not human, consumption) and attempted to "reward" the little cats for staying calm and playful in a larger space. We're paying special attention to Sr. Gris, who stays calm, but is basically content just to sit in your lap while the other cats play together. Not necessarily a bad thing -- but we just want to see if he can venture a little further out of his comfort zone.

The balancing act

Clementine is getting even more skilled at riding around on Dan's shoulder, especially if she's had a little Easy Cheese beforehand.

Best cat face of the day

I find this photo of Pico chillin' by the toilet completely hilarious for some reason.

Three cats in a tub, part two

Sr. Gris and Clementine continue to relax by the spigot. They're going to be sad when we actually have to use the tub.

Three cats in a tub

Today was the first full days that Sr. Gris, Clementine, and Pico have spent a significant portion of the day outside their carriers. I decided to put them in the bathroom, since they tend to get a little intimidated when they're in a large, open space. They seem to have a special affinity for the bathtub: an affinity so great, in fact, that it causes their eyes to emit a radioactive glow.
They seem to really enjoy it in there -- a lot more space to investigate than their carriers. Pico and Clementine were playing hide-and-seek in a paper bag a moment ago. Sr. Gris, calm as ever, has spent most of the time contemplating the drain.

Portrait of an ear-tipped tabby

Tonight was the first night I've seen Slinky since her spay. Strangely, she allowed me to get very close to her after I gave her a few handfuls of Purina ONE. She seems a little more relaxed, although it could just be the lingering effects of anesthesia.

You can really see the ear-tipping in this particular image. It actually isn't as intense or dramatic as I thought it would be; it's just a little slice of the ear, not an entire half taken off. Slinky seems not to notice or care.

The newly-spayed Slinky returns

Mother Slinky is now spayed! She's healing well, and was released in our yard last night while I was at my Spanish class.

I left out crunchies and water for Slinky, but I haven't seen her yet. The vets tipped her ear so that, in the event that she's picked up again, other veterinarians will instantly know that she's been spayed, and she won't have to go through the process of being opened up again. Little half-eared Slinky. Aw. Photos are soon to follow.

Introducing ... Pico Hideaway!

In what could be termed the biggest personality turnaround in history, the new kitten, aka Pico Hideaway (named for his experience as the main spicy ingredient in the "kitty burrito"), has proven to be one of the sweetest kittens ever. In only 72 hours, Pico has learned that we're actually nice people, and that we're to be trusted. Pico now yearns to be held, follows the chopstick-with-babyfood around (making both Dan and I remark at how easily he could be trained!), and sits in our laps purring. It's amazing what a little trust can do. Pico is just plain wonderful. We marvel at how eager he is to be loved, and how much he wants to be held.

To date, no one has responded to my "found kitten" signs about Pico that I posted around the neighborhood. Judging by his prior condition (severely underweight and completely terrified), I think he may not have ever had human contact until now. We must have gotten him just in time -- he's about 7 weeks old, so he's at the cusp of development. A few weeks later, and he would have been a lot more difficult to socialize. It might have even been impossible. It's hard to believe how loving he actually is, but it's true.

Darling Clementine Hideaway

Clementine is so great because she's so secure and curious. She's not afraid of the hiss the screen door makes when it shuts, or of the shadows Rififi and Orangina cast against the window screen. She'll look Rif and Gina right in the eyes, and just keep purring in your lap.
Clementine's greatest joy, other than being held, is to play with these cheapo Hartz "Midnight Crazies" cat toys in her carrier. She doesn't really need any other cats to keep her occupied; she just makes up her own fun as she goes along. Dan took her from the front room and put her in our hallway and bathroom, just as a test to see how she feels about being in a non-enclosed space for a while. She was completely happy -- amazing when you think that just a short time ago, she could barely even be held, much less allowed out of her crate.

The expressive, yet introspective, Sr. Gris Hideaway

Don't let his trashy television viewing habits fool you. This cat is completely stately and evocative, like an Olan Mills portrait. For real. He's just plain darling. And a complete lap-warmer.

Spay it, don't spray it.

The word from our helpful point person from SpayAustin, is that Slinky is now spayed, as of 7:30 this morning. Slinky is apparently healing well, and should be able to be returned to our property in a few days.

The amazing thing is that we trapped Slinky just in time. According to the vet, she was in full heat, and would have become pregnant again in a matter of days. Good timing on our part.

Have you seen me?

I put these signs up around the neighborhood today, in the hopes someone would respond about the new grey member of the Hideaway clan. So far, nobody's come forth.

Check out the fact that this sign is sandwiched between another "lost pet" sign, and a sign announcing the sale of neighborhood chihuahua puppies. Sigh.

The surreal life, featuring Sr. Gris Hideaway

Sr. Gris is, I have discovered, the kind of cat that loves nothing more than to sit on your lap whilst watching bad television. He seems to have a special affinity for bad reality television, namely The Surreal Life -- specifically, with those episodes featuring Tammy Faye Baker.

Just look at those eyes. He's hooked.

No longer anonymous

The cats have names now. It had to be done. There's only so long you can refer to "the little grey and white one" without feeling strange about it. So now we have Clementine, Pico, and Sr. Gris.

And then there were three.

Within five minutes after Dan set the trap for Slinky, I got the call at work.

"I got one. But it's not Slinky. It's that other grey kitten."

That other grey kitten? The one that just started hanging out in the neighborhood, sleeping underneath the Hondas on the curb? We'd seen him before; he'd started sneaking Slinky's food a few weeks prior. We'd leave some star-shaped crunchies on an upturned green Tupperware lid for Slinky, as always, and there he'd be: a little furtive, a little ragged, but not afraid of much.

"Not sure what to do about this one," Dan says over the phone. "He's scared, really scared, and doesn't know what's happening. I put him in the small carrier."

We discuss the pros and cons of what to do with the new kitten for about five minutes. Then we decide to socialize him along with the rest of Slinky's brood. He's around the same age, with the same attributes: very hungry, very scared, a little scruffy, and needing a home. So we decide to take him in, in the hopes we can socialize him and find him a home. What's one more, right?

After all, he took the bait.

He's a little different, though, in that he's a bit of a fighter. Our guess is that he could have been someone's tumbly 6-week-old kitten set out for the night too soon, spooked by neighborhood dogs and cars and pre-Fourth fireworks. More likely, his mother was a feral cat like Slinky, but perhaps not as lucky. Whatever the case, this kitten is bold, bold, bold, and hisses at every turn.

All we know about this kitten is that he's scrappy, lunging at your hand when you unhook the front of the cheap plastic carrier. He spits in your face when you coo, "Hey little kitty, hey new little kitty," through the plastic grill. He watches you with his big eyes, growling kittenishly, but still growling. Dan's right. This one is a little different.

After work, I call our nice feral cat expert. She says that this new kitten is probably terrified, and encourages us to wrap him in a "kitty burrito": meaning, take the kitten and wrap him swaddling-style in a towel or blanket. "You've got to force your affections on this one," she says. Dan and I take her advice, and get the new kitten out of the carrier with surprisingly minimal struggling and hissing. We wrap him in a beach towel, and stroke his ears.

"Do you hear that?" Dan asks.

He's purring already, swaddled in the towel on the porch tile.

The trap is set.

On 7/1/05, Daniel daniexxxxx@gmail.com wrote:

The trap is set. If we get Slinky before I leave I'll call SpayAustin and let you know. If not, keep an eye on it when you get home and if we don't catch her by sundown we should take in the trap (so we don't catch a raccoon or possum).

-d

Not flea-combing ... yet

Although it may appear that I am searching through Sr. Gris' head for fleas, I'm actually petting him behind the ears for the first time. He loves it, and is completely content and relaxed.

First purr

Tonight was the first night we held the speckled kitten without gloves. If I'm not mistaken, I could even hear a purr. She was calm, a little wriggly, as kittens often are.

Socializin'

The best thing about socializing feral cats is the feeling of accomplishment. You're just sitting there, having a beer or drinking some hibiscus iced tea, but as long as you have a kitten in your arms, you're doing something. "What are you guys up to these days?" "Oh, just socializing feral cats." All you have to do is just hold them affectionately, and you're suddenly making an impact instead of just sitting absently on your couch. It's the greatest. Especially when you're rewarded with a purr.

FYI

We interrupt this blog about feral cats to report that there are some seriously large roaches here in Austin.

Thank you.

Upside down

Rififi's world is now officially turned upside down. We've got cat carriers with kittens in the living room, bowls of water throughout the house, people coming by to set cat-traps, the sudden appearance of chicken baby food on chopsticks. Nothing is as it seems. To her credit, Rififi has so far engaged in minimal growling thus far, being content instead to have the occasional token smidge of baby food or Aquari-yums as a reward for good, non-threatening behavior.

Rififi was always "the baby" until now; although she's four, she's always mistaken for being a much younger cat.

"She is a kitten, yes?" says the vet.

"No, she's FOUR!" I always say, in the same strange proud way that parents brag about their kids' cuteness, as though it's something within their own control.

Rif's not afraid of anything, whether the vaccuum or a golden retriever, but I think she's a little unnerved by the new visitors. These days she hides beneath the Kingsford charcoal on the porch, breathing fast in the stiff heat of the summer.

At night, we hold her, feed her , and call her to sleep at the foot of the bed. She sleeps the same way between us, her purr low, her eyes squeezed into small papercuts.

Rififi, I still love you

The secret to a happy cat

You can't go wrong with the chopstick and baby food combo. They just go for it. Just look at the face of this tortoiseshell. No gloves needed, no additional protection necessary: just the simple combo of Gerber and Chinese culinary utensils. The only down side is that chicken baby food has the world's most repulsive odor. It literally hangs in the air. Kind of a mix between a burnt frozen dinner and Band-Aids. But still, just look at that cat's face.

Dinner via chopstick

The little grey cat is somewhat distracted by the glaring flash of my camera, but rest assured, he loves dinner via chopstick just as much as his sister. And he settles instantly into your lap, which is always nice.

The ultimate pacifier

Like I said, it works every time. The ultimate feral placation. Good for flossing purposes as well.

The chicken baby food trick

This afternoon after work, I purchased three jars of chicken baby food, on the advice of several veteran cat-trappers.

"Chicken baby food is a treat that almost no kitten can resist."

It's an odd feeling to walk into HEB, walk directly to the baby food aisle, select three tiny jars of baby food, pay for said baby food, and walk out. Most everyone else in the baby aisle was selecting the fancy pureéd assortments of vegetables for their youngsters: whipped asparagus with greens, delicate mixtures of beets and carrots, a smattering of toasted prunes. But for me, it's just the regular chicken. It's actually hard to find regular chicken baby food these days. Most of the selections feature some sort of addition: chicken with yams, broiled chicken with pureéd broccoli, chicken floating in a sea of odd alphabet-shaped pastry. After some searching, I found it: regular, plain Gerber chicken.

Regular, plain Gerber does the trick. For anyone wanting to socialize a feral kitten, this is unbelievable. You've got to have the appropriate vehicle, though, for introducing the baby food to your new kitten friends. You probably don't want to use your fingertip, as the little felines have teeth and get extremely excited once they smell the chicken -- which, to my nose, is abhorrent. However, we hit on the best delivery vehicle: take-out Chinese chopsticks. Simply dip the chopstick inside the nebulous container of whipped baby food, insert the chopstick between the bars of the cage, and watch your previously-feral friends suddenly take a shine to you. Works every time.

Got 'em!

From: daniel.xxxxx@gmail.com
To: exxxxxx@gmail.com
Date: Jun 23, 2005 3:26 PM
Subject: got 'em!


I've got the two kittens. Right now they are in separate carriers in our bedroom, so they can be separated from our little monsters. Call me (before 4:30) if you want to discuss.

It was so sad, Slinky was walking around crying for them. So sad.

love you,
d

When I arrived home today, I saw the kittens for the first time in their carriers. This photo pretty much says it all. They're not happy about it. Dan and I reassure ourselves that this is for their own good, that it is in fact possible to introduce these little kittens to the wonders of the domestic life.

A brief shout-out to the wonders of Craigslist: I put an ad up on Craigslist requesting the use of carriers for feral socialization purposes. I got at least 15 -- that's right 15! -- emails from people who supported us in this crazy endeavor, and who offered their carriers for use. One woman brought by a jumbo-sized carrier that must have been used for a Husky or other large-sized dog. Another woman gave us her unused, brand new cat carrier that she received as a gift and didn't ever put to use. Yay to the kindness of strangers.

Cat socialization advice

From: Feral Cat Support
To: Erika
Date: Jun 23, 2005 8:18 PM
Subject: Re: Discovered ex-pet cat with kittens ...

Erika: I have a trap for trapping the mom cat and the kittens can't be spay/neutered until they are either 3 mos. or 3 lbs. If you adopt them earlier you can purchase a voucher at ATA and give it to the adopters as part of the adoption fee. Your best bet in socializing the kittens is to keep them inside and away from mom and really force your attentions on them. The first time I ever tried to socialize kittens I was unsuccessful because I kept respecting their privacy. MAKE them pay attention to your gentle attentions by not giving up even if hissed at. You are trying to show/prove that this 2 legged animal is good to 4 legged ones. (I lick my fingers and pet/rub their heads, just like mom does) Good luck!

Trapping prep: continued

It's working. Slinky is actually getting used to going inside the carrier to eat. Strangely, she doesn't even mind so much if we're outside when this happens; she just goes right in after looking around a bit. The kittens follow her into the carrier as well, which should make for easy trapping when the day comes.

Setting the stage

The kittens are losing their blue eyes and are becoming more interested in playing with each other than being around their mother. This, according to the folks at Alley Cat Allies, means that it's time to try to trap the mother cat and get her spayed. It also means that the clock is ticking for the young kittens. Although feral kittens can be successfully socialized as late as 10-12 weeks, it's significantly harder to expose them to human contact that late in their development. By that time, they've internalized a fear of humans, and may always be somewhat sketchy and shy in their relationships with people. And the sketchier the kittens behave towards human beings, the harder it is for them to get adopted. So, our relationship with the kittens and Slinky is taking a different turn.

On the advice of several feral cat websites, we've started putting the cats' food outside near a carrier or other box. Each day, you move the food closer and closer to the carrier, until the food is actually in the carrier itself. This gets the cats/kittens used to going inside something in order to get their meal, which makes the trapping process infinitely easier, as one might imagine.

We've started setting the food out in little increments -- kind of like a "trail" towards the main meal inside the carrier. At first we just put the open carrier outside, but the cats didn't seem to mind it at all, so we went onward with the process, setting the stage for the actual trapping experience.

A life beyond trappin'

Occasionally, Dan and I take a break from thinking about the cats. For real. We float in the pool, drink rosé, crack jokes, test out the volleyball net, and curse the pollen and the mosquitos.

Eden and The Feral Way

After six weeks of existence in the wild, the brains of cats become imprinted with what my friend Esha calls "The Feral Way." How-to guides warn of this. "It's getting time," Dan says, "It's getting time." We watch the mother cat lurk around, her tail a tight tuck between her legs. The kittens will follow suit, and we know this. If we don't act now, the imprint begins.

We watch the silver mother slink through the bushes. She jumps at laughter, the drop of a glass. The sudden hiss of a soda and she's gone, disappearing into the wisteria and the Carolina jasmine, their flowers small stars still quaking after her leap. I watch Slinky and think how little she knows, how simple her life is. Her life is a series of the smallest constraints: the green tupperware lid filled with crunchies fashioned in the shapes of Xs and Os, the plastic tub of warm water, dumped and filled daily from the garden hose. She's gotten used to entering into the dull green carrier for her food. All of this will change soon. Her meows hang in the night with the weight of wet laundry.

We stopped filling the concrete birdbath for Slinky once we discovered the bodies of grackles and sparrows. The other day I found the feet of birds, their talons the color of chewing gum, by Slinky's roost underneath the porch. The fluff of the birds was spread out on the grass. We've resolved to feed Slinky more and more often, get her even more accustomed to the oddity of finding crunchies laid out for her inside the carrier. We're weaning her and her kittens from this strange Eden out here, getting them ready for the biggest disruption yet.

As close as it gets

This blurry photo is as close as we can get to the little kittens. Despite their curiosity, they are still total mimics. What Slinky does, they do. You open the door, Slinky dives underneath the porch, and they follow suit like tiny blurred bullets. It's hard not to get frustrated at them. Sometimes I curse them silently underneath my breath. Come ON. Damn! I'm leaving food for you guys.

I'm shaking the bag of crunchies to get them used to the sound of food. Each day, Dan and I move the food bowl a little closer to the door, so the Hideaways have to venture out a little further in order to eat. I started off putting the bowl immediately beside the opening of their "cave" underneath the porch. Now it's a few feet away, so they have to eat out in the open. We'll see what happens.

Tortoise-shell Hideaway

The little tortoise-shell Hideaway is slightly fiestier than her brother, although you can't tell that from this incredibly blurry photo. She watches our heads bob as we float in the pool, and doesn't run away as quickly as her mother when we pull ourselves out of the shallow end. She's still got her blue eyes, but they're a little darker than before.

Break-in

Last night Slinky tried to break into the screened-in porch again. She hears the scoop of crunchies that we dispense to Rififi and Orangina, and now comes immediately running, her tail low and protective against the grass as though she's stalking something. At night I watch her press her face against the screen door, watching Rififi as she eats her kibble. Apparently, she and Rif had a little showdown over the food and ended up ripping yet another hole in the screen door. Dan patched the hole this morning, and bought some extra-strength wire mesh to cover the rest of the porch screen.

Slinky loves and hates us at the same time. She looks at us while crouched low aganst the stones, and meows one meow right after another.

"Do you think she's trying to tell us something?" I ask Dan.

"Yes, but I'm not sure what. I'm not even sure she knows."

We both agree that she's completely conflicted. She knows that she's afraid of and repelled by us, and as a feral cat, she acts as feral cats do: running away, hissing repeatedly. Yet there's some sense of domesticity lurking somewhere in the back of her mind as well: something that remembers how to eat from a bowl, something that's pulled to a silky high-pitched voice like a thread. Slinky knows the squeak of doors and the slap of screens. In her eyes, you can read her own embarrasment of being pulled back to this earlier domestic stage.

Slinky's kittens have picked up all of the fear, but none of the inner conflict. They dive underheath the porch, between the boards and the side of the house, whenever I stand up or round the bend too quickly. But they also play in plain sight underneath the Jacob's Coat roses, pawing after mosquitos and no-see-ums, tottering over each other's backs in the sun, stalking their mother's tail with wide eyes that are still kittenish blue.

It's Slinky, it's Slinky

We've started calling the mother cat "Slinky." It's not a dignified name by any means, but as a descriptive moniker, it fits the bill. Slinky walks in a permanent, well, slink: her tail tucked neatly between her legs, her back long against the ground. She'll look us right in the eyes, but will run away if we even take a deep breath or open a door suddenly. The key with Slinky is this: no sudden movements or sounds.

Slinky brings her kittens out to nurse by the roses in the backyard. She's dug an underground area for them to live in the earth beneath the porch. Looking through the slats of the bamboo shades, I can see them lying in the sun, the kittens little more than dandelion-heads of fluff against their mother. The kittens' eyes aren't open yet. They're in what my friend calls "the larval stage."

Looking at the new arrivals, it's hard not to feel a mix of happiness and sadness. Who doesn't love kittens, right? They're adorable, even if I can only watch them from afar. But the bigger question is: what are we going to do about these kittens? I watch them, and all I can think about is them eventually getting bigger, multiplying, making more and more and more.

In the beginning

A month ago, our landlord mentioned, "Just wanted to let you know ... there's a feral cat that's been living underneath the porch for a while now. We fed her while we lived there -- she's pretty skittish, but doesn't cause much trouble."

The cat went basically sight unseen for a while, as cats often do. Dan and I shook the bag of crunchies for her occasionally, just to see if she'd come to us. No dice. For the most part, the silver cat would remain hidden until the evening, then wander around to the porch and let out low moans to our cats, Rififi and Orangina, in the night.

A few weeks ago, I saw the silver cat when I went out to clean the pollen out of the pool. She was sketchy, walking swaybacked and heavily, with a waddle that made me wonder whether she was pregnant. I tried to approach her, and she let out a low, gutteral growl and ran underneath the porch.

I knew I had a bad feeling about this.

Now it's a few weeks later, and I'm out cleaning the pool again, and I see not just the silver cat, but more. Two new kittens, barely fluffy, almost still slick from birth. One is grey and one is black with speckles. They're nursing at the silver cat's side.