One thing I wanted to see when the ferals got comfortable in their new surroundings was them lounging around the yard. I couldn’t wait to look out my office window and see Grady under our oak tree or Maisie curled up in the cool grass. That would prove to me they considered this their home and felt safe here.
I never thought I would see them in the positions I’m seeing them now.
I’ll admit that I have a big yard. In this big yard are a lot of flower gardens and bushes. So, you would expect that my cats would either lay in the bushes so as not to be detected or lay in the grass so they can keep an eye on everything. If you did expect that, you would be disappointed. Nope, instead, my little furry ones like to do both at the same time. They will lay in the bushes with their back ends hanging out. Their little hind legs and paws looking like hairy sticks.
Why do they do this? Are they lazy? Do they not care about complete camouflage? Are they just messing with me?
You’re not supposed to question cat logic. I mean, you can, but it doesn’t get you anywhere. Have you ever put the food dish down with it only being half full? The humanity! You might as well have put trash in their bowl. That’s the way your cat will behave towards it, anyway. But, I digress.
It’s actually fine that they do this. I don’t worry about them. We don’t have any natural enemies that could potentially find their fat behinds and take a bite. I worry about me. I am unbelievably clumsy and would hate for me to go out by tripping on a cat butt and breaking my neck. Could you imagine that eulogy?
Maisie not even trying at this point.
I knew what I signed up for when I adopted them. I knew I would have to love them from a far. But, I thought I lived in an area where they were safe. A place where they didn’t want to wonder too far. They have everything here; shelter, fresh water, fresh food, a large field next door, a large yard to call their own, and most recently, a big deck for them to lounge around on and be lazy. Unfortunately, all of it wasn’t enough for my littlest girl and I couldn’t keep her safe.
Cloe was gone for a few days before I started to worry. She was feral after all. If I worried every time they didn’t come when dinner was served, I’d never sleep. After the fourth day, I began to alert people to her absence. I reached out to our local animal control officer, an organization that helps reunite lost cats with their families and anyone else that would listen. I posted flyers, went door to door looking for my baby and, of course, I began crying.
My girl used to spend a lot of time with a neighbor cat. She would stay with him and hang out in his shed. The owner of this cat was happy to have Cloe spend time at his house. He even made a cat haven out of his shed for his cat and his new found buddy.
I stopped by this neighbor’s house to ask if he had seen Cloe. That’s when he gave me the bad news. She was hit by a car. She had a large gash in her head. My sweet neighbor took her tiny body and buried her in the backyard. Instead of calling animal control, which would have just disposed of her body, he took my little girl and gave her respect and love in the end.
But now it’s hard to deal with the after. Her father and sister still need to be cared for. It’s hard to feed them. My mind goes to little Cloe fighting her sister for a bowl of food. Even though I always put enough for both. It’s hard to go to the shed. She would always jump up on the shelf and say hello. I just…miss her terribly.
I’m sure I don’t want to write about it anymore.