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- Apr 1, 2018
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I'm not currently involved with TNR, but my mom managed a colony behind her business when I was a preteen/young teenager, and I just wanted to talk about them a little bit. It's a slightly long story, but it's got a nice happy ending!
I don't remember exactly how it started, but at some point my mom realized that there were feral cats living behind her shop. She started feeding them and began setting traps to catch and fix them. As the number of cats grew, she'd bring me along; we'd drive around the parking lot on a Friday night for hours, waiting to see who would show up. We had Ginger and Coffee, Princess, Cirrus and Nimbus, and so many more. Of course, even with her best efforts at trapping (I remember one memorable night where we caught a raccoon and went to release it at a local park only for a security officer to catch us; he ended up helping us release the raccoon), some cats still got pregnant. So for a while, there were kittens.
Oh, how I loved the kittens! No kittens is of course the goal for a feral colony, but you can hardly fault an 11 year old girl for being excited about them. When possible, they'd catch them and try to socialize them. None of the kittens ever came with us to our house (we had dogs and my dad hated cats), but I got to cuddle quite a few kittens at her shop before they went to their new homes.
Some of the adult cats became tame with time, too. I remember my mother showing me to sit quietly, and how amazing it was when these half-wild cats would choose to trust me and brush up against my hand. Ginger was a big brown tabby who was incredibly sweet; he eventually became sick but was adopted by a coworker who helped to manage the colony. He lived out his days indoors, fat, and happy. Princess was a black and white cat who was also quite friendly. Sadly, she disappeared one day, as ferals so often do.
Eventually, the TNR efforts paid off, and the colony dwindled. Soon, they were down to one regular from that original colony (Cirrus), plus the odd stray or wanderer. Every harsh winter my mother expected it would be her last, but Cirrus somehow held on. No matter how cold it got, how she was bullied by raccoons and strays, she somehow stuck around, more than a decade after the colony's discovery.
But even old Cirrus had her happy ending. At somewhere around 13 years of age, someone who works near my mother's shop managed to get her off the streets and take her home. I could have cried with relief, knowing that a cat who had spent so long on the streets would have comfort and safety in her old age.
So much of my love for cats has been influenced by feral cats and friendly outdoor neighbor cats (I had my own cat posse as a kid). I don't have the resources for it right now, but someday I will give back, whether it be through TNR or fostering or some other way. I'll try to make the world better for the creatures that helped me to grow up into a kinder and more empathetic adult. And until that day, I'll do my best to give my two rescue cats the best life I can.
I don't remember exactly how it started, but at some point my mom realized that there were feral cats living behind her shop. She started feeding them and began setting traps to catch and fix them. As the number of cats grew, she'd bring me along; we'd drive around the parking lot on a Friday night for hours, waiting to see who would show up. We had Ginger and Coffee, Princess, Cirrus and Nimbus, and so many more. Of course, even with her best efforts at trapping (I remember one memorable night where we caught a raccoon and went to release it at a local park only for a security officer to catch us; he ended up helping us release the raccoon), some cats still got pregnant. So for a while, there were kittens.
Oh, how I loved the kittens! No kittens is of course the goal for a feral colony, but you can hardly fault an 11 year old girl for being excited about them. When possible, they'd catch them and try to socialize them. None of the kittens ever came with us to our house (we had dogs and my dad hated cats), but I got to cuddle quite a few kittens at her shop before they went to their new homes.
Some of the adult cats became tame with time, too. I remember my mother showing me to sit quietly, and how amazing it was when these half-wild cats would choose to trust me and brush up against my hand. Ginger was a big brown tabby who was incredibly sweet; he eventually became sick but was adopted by a coworker who helped to manage the colony. He lived out his days indoors, fat, and happy. Princess was a black and white cat who was also quite friendly. Sadly, she disappeared one day, as ferals so often do.
Eventually, the TNR efforts paid off, and the colony dwindled. Soon, they were down to one regular from that original colony (Cirrus), plus the odd stray or wanderer. Every harsh winter my mother expected it would be her last, but Cirrus somehow held on. No matter how cold it got, how she was bullied by raccoons and strays, she somehow stuck around, more than a decade after the colony's discovery.
But even old Cirrus had her happy ending. At somewhere around 13 years of age, someone who works near my mother's shop managed to get her off the streets and take her home. I could have cried with relief, knowing that a cat who had spent so long on the streets would have comfort and safety in her old age.
So much of my love for cats has been influenced by feral cats and friendly outdoor neighbor cats (I had my own cat posse as a kid). I don't have the resources for it right now, but someday I will give back, whether it be through TNR or fostering or some other way. I'll try to make the world better for the creatures that helped me to grow up into a kinder and more empathetic adult. And until that day, I'll do my best to give my two rescue cats the best life I can.
I was around 8. the parents said absolutely not! and then got swept up in her cuteness!
