She is back in the house now, coming in on the heals of Brook when I opened the door earlier. She is quite docile at the moment, curling up near me as I tap out my feelings about her on this keyboard. I have found, much to my surprise that I can pick her up without a problem. She will also now enter the carrier freely as long as food is provided and I have been carrying her from room to room just to let her see that carriers don’t really eat kitty.

I suspect something neurological going on with her. This might be controlled with medication, but I hate medicating (doping) kitties. It never turns out very well.

For now, she will be inside and if she goes into Psycho Kitty Mode again, I guess I will just deal with the episode when or if it comes, but I suspect it will.

This morning when I opened the door to the enclosure, a calico streaked outside! I inspected the cage and found a weak point in the wire but how she fit into such a tiny space is beyond me.

She is outside now, and was laying on the steps of the porch when I walked up to her, she was as calm as toast. Her trigger is on a hairs point and she is unpredictable. I have decided to just let her be for now and hope she doesn’t decide to rip up the outside kitties if she gets spooked again. Maybe the trigger is just being indoors and has little to do with the carrier? Whose to know? I wish I could crawl into her head and see for myself what is terrorizing her.

But Brooklyn has started to. This morning, for whatever reason she launched into a full-frontal attack on three cats sleeping below her on the sofa. I was sitting there reading and got some of the brunt of the attack. After she finished with the three unfortunate kitties, she launched herself on the dog and on Sierra who was drinking water. I have no idea what trigger got pushed, she had been living peacefully among general population for a number of days.

I managed to get her into the bathroom bribing her with food, but getting her into that dreaded carrier was another story. By the time I was finished, I was shaking so badly I had to sit down for about 20 minutes to regroup.

I can’t even begin to imagine the terror that must go through her mind when she sees this carrier but she becomes a tiger with all tooth and claw.

I have her in the outside introduction cage, it has three levels so she isn’t cramped and I can fully stand up in it. I will just have to work on her slowly and try and find a home for her where she doesn’t have any pets to deal with. I feel so sorry for her and I could kill whoever made this lovely girl this way. Abuse, neglect, lack of socialization with other cats all play into why she is this way. My heart aches for her, but at least she is safe. I had about five cats ready to rip her up for attacking them.

Holy Smokes this weather is unreal. Glad we aren’t traveling on the holiday weekend, suspect there might be some nasty surprises in store for those who are.

Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing the semi-feral kittens upstairs ramming the door trying to get out. So sad, if they were outside, they would be fighting to stay alive. They would be joining with other cats, finding food, hunting for prey and finding a safe place to hide out. So this morning, I decided to take them out to the barn and let them go. Sometimes, some of the cats and kittens just can’t adapt to captivity no matter how “safe” we deem them to be.

They immediately both took off scampered up the ramp to the loft and got lost among the stray hay bales. Later, when I was walking the pasture, I noticed they both were eating from the feral feeders near the barn.

When you work with traumatized kitties for a long time, there are signs they give out when they aren’t keen on being in kitty alcatraz. I rarely saw them when I went into the room and when I spent the night with them, they never came out of hiding. Just the sight of another human would set their ears flat back and their tails would tuck and eyes dilate. Not good signs and stressing them out, keeping them in a large room which is really just a large, luxurious cage just shut their systems down. So they are outside and will have food, shelter, fresh water daily all the mice they can catch and the other barn cats for company. Sometimes, even when you want to win- you can’t. It was important for them to eat and feel comfortable and now they are in their element. They have taken up residence under the hay barn. I know now that they are living on their terms, they will warm up to me over time without feeling forced into it.

Meet Serena,

She arrived last night quite late. Her owners were renters and they were being evicted, so when they left, they left her behind. What in the world is wrong with people?

She is an older, dilute calico (strange how all these calicos are showing up suddenly) Last year the predominant color was black!

I call her Serena hoping the Serene will rub off on her as she really likes to growl. She is a matted mess but her trust meter is broken right now- undoubtedly wondering why her owners would dare to leave her behind. So, it will probably be the weekend before I can really get my hands on her and get her mat-free-

Quietly regarding me with large, green soulful eyes, Brooklyn stares me down at the doorway to the kitchen. Her cries are plaintive, she looks longingly at the other cats gathered around the food trays and cries again. Her meaning is clear; “I am a cat, I am not meant to be alone, let me out.” So while the others are occupied with eating, I slip back the bolt and open it a crack. If I am misreading her message, I want to be clear to her, this is her decision to join the crew, not mine. I step back.

She steps boldly into the kitchen and heads for the nearest food tray. Although she has eaten already, she ducks her head and gobbles the wet food. No one pays her any mind, which is part of my plan. I always introduce new cats and kittens during feeding time. This is how they come together in the wild, during feeding time. Where the Alphas feed first and the more submissive ones wait their turn. But here, there is plenty for all and she just blends into the carpet of colored cat fur and is lost among the masses.

The more time I spend with her, the more I understand her terror. She does not fear other cats, she fears humans. I know that fear well. I recognize the fight and courage she holds within that drives her on to her goal, to be part of a group and not singled out for punishment. For her, there is safety in numbers. She is a determined kitty, my Brooklyn holding inside all the terrors of the past. I walk carefully around her afraid to set off triggers.

Only when she approaches me am I allowed to touch her. The pets have to be brief. Lingering to long with her can cause problems. She acts really chill, but there is a warning just underneath that coolness.

Her attraction to me was immediate as if she sensed we were kindred spirits. She wears her scars inside, mine are hidden by well-placed shirts and jeans. The marks run haphazardly across my stomach and my back, making days of being at the beach in a two-piece, also a thing of the past. They are a freeway of harsh reminders when the clothes are removed and I stand in front of my mirror in the mornings.

The marks can be covered up cosmetically. Years ago, my best friend Jeri suggested I get tattoos. I declined. These marks remind me of a life long ago, when a young, naive woman ran off with a man, she was “certain” would love her forever. But forevers exist only in fairy tales and sometimes fairy tales turn into nightmares.

As I watch Brooklyn navigate through the clowder, skirting the ones she knows instinctively to be the Alphas and hissing to all the others, her message is being sent. “No one is going to mess with me ever again.” I know just how she feels.

I have been visiting the kittens during the day. Just going into the room and trying to make contact with them without throwing them into a tizzy. Gray girl will run from me, she eventually will dart into a carrier and hide. Orange girl just flattens her ears and watches me. I was able to touch and pet both of them while I was assist feeding them. Some of the food is disappearing out of the bowls, but not enough to keep a bird alive, so I am supplementing them for now.

I found gray kitty’s sweet spot this afternoon. She couldn’t help herself, she leaned into the chin rub and laid her head on my hand just briefly. Then her eyes opened and she looked so surprised like “WHAT!” and backed away from me hissing. LOL But I got her, those chin rubs will do them in almost every time.

I received an amazing book today by Darlene Arden called The Complete Cat’s Meow . This book does something that needed to be done for a very long time. It takes the two camps: ethical, responsible cat breeders and merges them with ethical, responsible rescuers (not activists) big difference.

The book goes into how to raise a kitten stray or shelter kitten the same way that breeders do. I am learning so much and I love it. For example, did you know that in ethical, responsible breeders homes- kittens are placed in a portable pen and pushed all over the house when they are old enough to move about? This acclimates them quickly to the house activities, keeps them away from the other resident cats and dogs and keeps everyone safe. What a great idea!

I have been reading the book out loud to the kitties a few chapters at a time and applying what I am learning when I can with the two of them. I would suggest to anyone who has a kitten, is considering getting a kitten- you need to BUY this book! If you rescue and or foster kittens, this book is indispensable in the information contained in the pages. The photos also have the “AWW” Factor.

When the book says Everything You Need to Know about Caring for Your Cat- the author isn’t kidding. This book is a gold mine of information and can strengthen the most important human-cat bond every cat lover strives for.

Psst- you can order it through Amazon.com

Is there anyone close to Ocala Florida willing to take two newborn kitties (eyes shut, umbilical cords attached) from the person who found them? The woman is frantic, she has no idea what to do and I am to far away to help her out. Please comment if you can help her and/or get in touch with me.

These two kitties are on their guard when I come into the room. The orange girl (who still needs a name) is laying in the large cat bed. Her ears tuck back automatically and her eyes dilate in fear. She crouches under the tall sides of the cat bed, only her eyes are visible and she watches me carefully, wondering what I am going to do to her next.

Gray girl is hiding inside the carrier. It is covered with a dark cloth and brings out her den instincts. She feels safe within the confines of this cave, but I am about to shatter her illusion of safety. These kitties did not eat last night and they need fluids badly.

I tried to give them fluids last night but finally gave up. They become rigid at my touch and so the elasticiity of their skin vanishes and there is no tent of skin to use to take fluids into.

So I come with reinforcements. My dear friend Haley who used to be a vet tech has volunteered to help me out. To perform a simple act that my husband no longer is able to- to give kitties fluids while I hold them.

Carefully, I draw up the fluid into the syringe. 60 cc. Little orange girl doesn’t like the added visitor and though we keep our voices low, she knows something is up. Her claws dig into the bed and she won’t budge. So rather than turn this into a tug of war, I bundle her bed and all and place her on top of the cage.

Her skin is so loose you could turn her into a purse! The needle goes in easily and the bubble starts forming on her skin dissapating as her body drinks up the much-needed fluids. She takes the whole dose and leaks just a little bit but better than last night because when she struggled, I temporarily turned her into a sprinkler.

I tuck her into a carrier and turn to gray girl. Using the bed to cushion her and comfort her, I cover her with the shell blanket exposing just the part of her neck where the needle will go. She is so tense, all the loose skin vanishes until gentle massaging brings it back so we can stick her.

When it is over, I breathe again. I am hoping this process will jump start their appetite and make them feel a bit better. I wonder how someone could have them in their home and not notice they are not eating or drinking- or notice and do nothing about it.

Haley and I sit on the floor and talk to them quietly. Our backs are turned but they can hear us and we tell them that they are okay. They are in a safe place and will want for nothing. They need to eat and drink and get strong and be healthy. Before we leave, we set out multiple bowls of water and one more pet fountain. They need to start drinking on their own. Hopefully, now they will~

I love 5:00 a.m. the house isn’t quite awake- well the cats are, but hubby isn’t. He is still sawing logs in the bedroom and will be for some time; sleeping in later and later each day as all the doctor visits, tests, treatments and the ravages of diabetes catches up to him.

5:00 a.m. when the dew is still on the tall grass and Brook tracks in wet pawprints as she sniffs all the new smells out in the fields.
5:00 a.m. when the raccoons are still sitting on the platform outside the window, looking inside as if to say “Can we have more food please?” I have stopped feeding at night because feeding the wildlife cat food is frowned upon (and expensive). The cats know if they want to eat, it has to be done before dark and at first light. The motion detector lights do little to dissuade these masked bandits from looking for loose kibble. Whoever told me at Home Depot that coons run when they are confronted with bright lights- well, they lied.

The house has a stillness and even the cats haven’t cranked it up in full gear. They are rubbing against my legs as if reminding me that they exist and they are “HUNGRY” they want to hear that familiar rattle of the kibble hitting the trays and the hum of the can opener- music to their ears I am sure.

I sit at the computer and catch up on my emails, polish up articles and plan my next move. I’m one hour from my only indulgence- a Mudslide at Buzz’d Coffee Hut and two hours from having to worry about what to fix for breakfast.

Chappy joins me at the chair. His cry in plaintive. He wants me to pet him. This is the only time this semi-feral boy will approach. The darkness comforts him and he knows if I pet him to much, he can just escape quickly and get away from all that silly lovin’- but this is his time for me, or my time for him.

Life hasn’t assaulted me yet. The phones are quiet, the only sounds in the house are the hum of the computer and the gentle snores of Brook accompanied by the purrs and trills of the cats.

It’s time to regroup. To drink in the day before it begins, talk to God and surround myself with my kitties. It’s my time to just breathe.