In Dusty Rainbolt’s latest book, Ghost Cats, I share a story about a little calico feral kitty by the name of Calli (I know, original name) But Callie was a part of a litter that was born under my neighbor’s home (who detests cats). I talk about fetching out the mom Funny Face from under the porch, she was pregnant and fighting me, but I managed to get her safely upstairs. She delivered kittens the next day. We named the two pitch black ones, Bravo and Charley (having just seen Heartbreak Ridge the night before). Then there was Callie she was a manx-cross, there were mostly Manx-crosses in the bunch; Stryker a gray, white and black male. Cleo looking much like stryker but with more white and then there was Hissy, the spitting image of his mom.

Funny Face was a good mom, during that time, the road outside the house hadn’t been widened. This was still a rural area and life was busy but quiet. We kept all the kittens and they went inside and out at will. Active and loving, beautiful souls.

Funny Face left us one afternoon quite suddenly and though I searched high and low, pounded on doors and put up fliers, she remained missing. We finally gave her up to God and concentrated on her family. I would find out years later, that Funny went over a few roads and set up housekeeping with a lonely, elderly man. She had blessed our home, now it was time to continue her work elsewhere. That story is printed in Catnip the newsletter out of Tufts University.

Cleo was the last remaining kitten of the litter. He didn’t want to be indoors, and when having to be confined for illness or other reasons, he would squawl his raspy one-of-a-kind meow, shred wallpaper, eat the carpet, destroy the door. He wanted outside. He got his way. When I took him in to be neutered- they “thought” he was under. He woke up- and he destroyed the entire surgical room. I was called, the phone call was pretty nasty. I was told that he would be neutered the next day, but the vet would prefer never to see him again! He was a character, and yes, the vet did see him again, several times.

A few years ago, he showed up for his nightly meal and his eye was swollen and bloody. I rushed him to the reluctant vet (although Cleo did mellow with age) It was found he had a claw hole in the center of his eye. I was told that I needed to confine him for two weeks, for treatment and meds or he would lose his eye. Well, I did try, but five days later, I called the vet and asked him what would happen if I just let him out? He was so stressed that he had stopped eating. I was told, he would either lose his eye or die.

I went into the room and gathered Cleo into my lap. I told him the severity of the issue at hand and asked him to please show up regularly so I could treat his eye. Then I hugged him and let him outside. He did show up, every day for treatment which was a rarity because before he would just show up every so often. He had taken up residence under an old barn down the way, and seemed to like it over there. I believe that except for maranding tomcats, he was the only cat over there.

So he lived with us, and he didn’t lose his eye. He would be laying in the yard, and we would walk over and say “Cleo fall over!” And this beautiful boy would roll over on his belly and show us his whiteness and allow us the luxury of rubbing his belly without him wanting to go to war.

He defied the statistics that outside cats only live for four years. He survived the pet food recall fiasco, becoming so ill that for the first time in his life, he wanted to be inside the porch. He laid for days on his heated cat bed without moving much, and vets tested him and pondered over him and I prayed over him…and he survived.

This morning, my big beautiful feral boy died. He would have been fifteen years old soon. There was not a mark on him, though he died not peacefully because his mouth was open in a snarl. Whatever got him, got him pretty quickly.

The dogs had gone off about 4:00 a.m. They were in the bedroom sleeping and suddenly they both started howling, like wolves at the moon. Mike let them out and they went to the back gate and pawed it, they were whining. But mike wouldn’t let them out and they returned to their crates. They must have heard Cleo saying goodbye.

I am so thrilled! McKinley was adopted today and went to a really nice home. He will be an only cat and will live inside with Linda, her husband and her 17 year old son. Linda called in response to my ad in the Tell & Sell and said she wanted an older male cat. When she got here, she fell in love with McKinley’s look and so after talking with her for awhile, I captured McKinley and followed Linda home. She lives about 20 minutes from here. I stayed at her home for awhile, just letting McKinley chill out and left the carrier over there so he would have some comfort smells to get him through all the newness. She will bring the carrier back in a few days and also said she had several extra carriers as well she wants me to have! She is a dog groomer. There is one dog, but he is in the backyard and it is well-fenced.

I am so happy that McKinley is going to be an only kitty. He is a real love.

As of this morning, Babycakes has joined the community fully. The wire door at the bottom of the stairs has been taken down (much to the joy of my husband). This house is over 40 years old, and whoever designed the staircase should have their head examined! Two people can’t travel up the stairs comfortably, much less can you move furniture up this narrow passageway that looks more like a mine shaft, than an open stairway. Our goal is to bust down the one wall, and bring the staircase around and out in the open.

This morning, I just opened the door a crack and stepped back out of the way. BC came tumbling down the stairs and pranced through the opening joining the others who were eating. There was no hissing, spitting, swatting or complaints when she merged with the crew. Although for some reason, later her and Rocky were circling each other contemplating in their cat-like way about this new smell in the house.

There have been no strikes, no walkouts, the crew now benefits from her company. I am a bit worried about her being out in the enclosure just based on the dirt factor. But, I will keep an eye on her two wounds and flush them if need be if they get dirty. I think she needs to exercise and get accustomed to being here. I do have found ads up, hoping if someone is looking for her, they will claim her. But for now, she is with my crew and all is well.

Twirl is also with the group- so the only isolated kitty still is Guinevere who seems to prefer being in the bedroom versus becoming part of the activity here in the house. Guinevere got sick last night. I am hoping it is just because of the new kitty smell and not something serious.

Well, just when I think I have enough cats, I find this kind-hearted woman in Russia with 130 cats of her own! To her credit, her cats look extremely well cared for and loved, though I cracked up to see her just throw the cat food on the floor- kind of like “frug it! Why fight it!”

Cats anyone?

Decided the only way to capture trap savvy Dash is with a drop trap. Mike has promised to help me make one on the weekend. My intention is to feed Dash under the trap for several days, then once she loses her fear of it, I will set it and capture her. Last night she made me laugh. I went out to spring the trap so I wouldn’t catch a coon or skunk, and there Dash was lying on top of the trap just so pleased with herself.

I have ads running for adoptions of some of the cats. There are ten up for adoption right now, so I am hoping that something will come of it and homes will be found for at least a few. I am not sure that the there is a high demand for cats and kittens here- but you never know.

All the barn cats were caught and sequestered in the patio. I am still trying to trap Dash but she is so lightweight she has figured out she can be in the trap, eat and leave without it triggering. I will have to think of some other plan.

Mercedes is sharing the bedroom with Guinevere right now and driving me nuts crying almost nonstop. She doesn’t belong outside, she can’t survive out there, and inside, being the pariah cat she is relentlessy hounded and chased by the others. Guin is leaving her alone for the most part, and I hope to be able to find a loving home for her where she can be an only cat. It isn’t going to be easy though, because she is black and white, and most folks around here want cats with more color.

Noticed yesterday that Dash is getting really matted. I have set the traps out this morning. The only problem in trying to trap escape artist Dash, is that the other feral cats end up in the traps as well. While I was setting up the traps, Tipster came up to me and was headbumping me, so I grabbed him and was going to carry him to the patio. As I was going over the fence however, Lei barked, scaring Tip and I fell backward over the fence ,let go of Tip and off he went. Good thing there was no nosey neighbor with a video camera. Falling on a picket fence backwards kind of hurt, but what hurt worse for me was scaring poor Tipster.

So far, I have trapped Cleo, Squirrel and Mercedes. Left is Tip and then Dash. She has been up by the trap (it is on top of the well house) several times. She keeps trying to get to the food inside without going inside. I hope this works, her back legs are really matted.

The cats don’t weather these hot days very well. We finally put a large piece of particle board down on the carpet in the living room. The cats are sleeping there in the heat of the day.

Prowler has experienced a set-back. She is peeing small amounts of bright red blood, visiting the litter pan multiple times a day and squatting in the corner without leaving any pee. I have started her on Clavamox and now when she sees me coming, she hides from me. I put her inside the hospitality cage. It is the only way I can medicate her easy. I knew she wasn’t feeling well a few days ago when she quit coming into the house and sharing my lap. I was watching her and hope I caught the UTI early enough.

Took the dogs to the river tonight and went swimming. Lei is afraid to get in the deep water, but Kody swims like a fish! I was really proud of her, and she wore herself out at the same time. It was fun, though she has a habit when I am standing in waist deep water of swimming out to me, rearing back and up and planting her front paws on my chest knocking me in the water. I will say though, the river was really cold and it felt so good on my swollen ankle.

I picked her up this morning, she is doing so much better than she was. Her wounds still need to be treated, but at least they aren’t taking up half of her belly space anymore. I am so grateful Ben was able to help her. She is on the mend.

A sound brought me out of my sleep just now. At first, it sounded like a cat fight, but this sound was different. There were high pitched squeals much like a baby pig sounds and harsh gutteral growls. I flew out of bed and grabbed the flashlight, the dogs were up and barking wanting out of their sleeping cages so they could help me investigate. I ignored them.

I followed the screams and growls with my flashlight- the pine tree over the house (the 60 + foot one) in the topmost branches looked like it was having an epileptic seizure. My light caught a pair of glowing red lights, belonging to a very large coon. He was attacking something in the smaller branches over and over. Whatever that something was it was squealing in fright like a pig and he wouldn’t let up.

I shouted but couldn’t do anything. Whatever was being attacked continued to be attacked. I was grateful it wasn’t one of the barn cats up there, as I have heard that raccoons can kill a cat. I didn’t believe they could, not really, at least not until tonight. Then I heard a series of growls t hat raised the hair on the back of my neck. I heard a long thin squeal, then saw the branches moving below the main fight, and after a bit, I heard a thud.

I raced around to the back and stood by the fence seperating the tree from me, at the base lay a possum. She did not look good. 🙁 There was nothing I could do. To go closer meant confronting that angry coon- not me. I saw the possum drag herself under the front fence (I was at the little fence that keeps the dogs out of the area) and last I saw of her, her tail was dissappearing.

I have never seen or heard anything like this before, and we will have been here now for over ten years. I am scared for my cats that are outside, but there is nothing I can do. I don’t know if the coon is rabid, or what that was about, but I am still shaking.