Campground Kitties
At 7 months old they arrived here, four kittens that had been found in an abandoned campground, untouched by humans and as wild as could be. They were immediately spayed and neutered and returned back here. For months they would spit and hiss and run out of the room. All of the kittens are black and white…
India who looks like someone swiped her nose with a paintbrush, was the first one to bond with me. She is now a complete love and will demand her time on my lap. I have to put a heavy towel down first, because the minute she hears the dog coming into the room, she launches off my lap and springs for the cat condo. Her claws, fully intact help her to escape.
Tipster, who is solid black with a white chest and a white tip on his tail, is the most mysterious. For months, I could not get near him. His refuge was under the kitchen table and if I tried to make contact, he would run out the tunnel and into the enclosure. So I began to ignore him completely and only feed him and make sure his water was fresh. Now, he will come up to me and wind through my legs, and when I reach down to pet him, he will purr and headbump me. If I stop, he will meow at me . I wait until he is perfectly quiet before I pick him up and we snuggle briefly. Before the thought of capture enters his brain, I quickly put him back on the floor and he trots off satisfied.
Chappy- is a long haired black and white male. L ike his littermates, he wanted nothing to do with us, so we returned the favor. Now, he will hop up on the couch and look at me expectantly, while my hubby says “Pet that cat!” The only petting Chappy likes is elevator butt, his favorite way to be stroked, and if I stop rubbing the base of his tail, he will gently reach over and take my arm in his mouth and put it back where he believes it belongs~ on him! Truly remarkable- he and his sister look like identical bookends when they are sitting together.
Dash- she is the last one of the litter. I named her Dash because she has a white mark on her face that looks like a comma. Ironically, she also dashes out of the room when we show up, and she is still doing so, so she is not quite ready for adoption, but very soon, I am certain she will be coming over to us on her own to be acknowledged and loved on. And people keep telling me; “Mary Anne, older feral kittens can’t be socialized!” Bull pucky! They can to!