Moth Ball

This is Moth Ball's mother, Devil Eyes.

I could sit for hours watching two stray kittens play.  They are of such innocence.  They can spend an unnumbered amount of time just running at each other.  Even Mother is not beyond their playful antics. From my den window, I watched two kittens at a neighbor’s house across the street.  The mother cat, Devil Eyes, had found what she thought a safe place.  It was under the house through an open vent.  She would eat food put out at my house and then cross the street to call her two out for nursing.  When finished nursing, they played.  If unexpected danger came, a dog or human, through the vent they went running while Mother found other protective cover.  I wondered how they were able to get through such a small opening.  But I have read cats can squeeze through small openings.  But apparently that opening did stop the much bigger Mother cat.

I had noticed sometime that the kittens were there, but apparently the owner took a while in learning this.  When she did, she took steps to solve what she thought to be a problem.  She closed off the vent with heavy blocks.  But she did not stop with just that.  She had her son throw moth balls in her yard.  A deterrent she saw to rid herself of unwelcome cats.  On any given day, the smell of moth balls linger.  Before the mother cat made it in finding a new home, she lost one kitten to the traffic in our subdivision.  She moved the remaining one kitten under my house inside my vent.  

Many property owners don’t like a cat using their garden as a litter boxes.  Moth balls are a toxic and can kill a cat, a dog, or other animals.  If consumed, they can destroy the liver.  Moth balls are registered pesticides which are illegal to use for anything other than what is described on the container. Could not the owner find a safer deterrent?  I think so; information is available out there if one simply looks.

Cats are not necessarily the pesky creatures many like to believe.  In many cases, the good outweighs the bad.  Even I don’t like the cat using my garden as a litter box.  But I had a mole problem in my garden.  I don’t have one now with the stray cat coming around.  They also rid an area of mice and sometimes pesky insects.  I watch as my indoor cats take flying leaps to catch flies that may have entered the house through opening a door.  They make it better than a fly swatter.  

Devil Eyes has taught her little white kitten to eat solid food and drink water at my house.  The little white long haired tabby has been given the name Moth Ball.  It becomes a reminder of the neighbor across the street.  As for what is the kitten’s gender, it will reveal itself in time.  Meanwhile from a distance, a remarkable trait stands out.  Moth Ball has a set of beautiful blue eyes that stare back at me.  As she stares, I wink my eyes at her. I have heard this is a form of communication.  I think maybe the kitten is sizing me up with her stares.  Maybe someday; she will allow my touch.

In The Heat

            The summer of 2012 was a hot one.  It went down in the record books.  Across the nation, our state included, saw record consecutive days with the heat hitting over one hundred.  The first thing that crossed my mind was how do cats make it in this heat?  I found the comfort of my house with air-conditioning.   But a stray cat you can’t catch and bring indoors.  And so, I continued to feed them and keep fresh water out.  But for those cats out there that did not have this, I wondered about their survival.  It was among my few I fed and watered, I would see the heat take a victim.  It sure hit close to home!

            Joyce was one of Likes ‘Em Green’s kittens.  The cat, Likes ‘Em Green, was given the name by me.  The name came from a neighbor who abandoned her.  She lost her home.  The neighbor, knowing I had a garden, yelled from her house one day wanting some tomatoes.

            “I likes ‘em green,” she yelled.

            After the neighbor lost her house, she left the mother cat behind.  The mother cat moved in under the house next door.  She began immediately coming to our house to eat.  Then she would go back to the house next door.  She had litter after litter that would soon wind up eating at our house also.  Because the cat had been abandoned, I named her from the last words yelled by that neighbor.  She became Likes ‘Em Green.

            It was two years ago that two kittens from her latest litter came to eat.  I named the female kitten Joyce and the male kitten Neil.  Neil would wonder off and became victim to poisoning.  When taking him to the Humane Society barely alive, they verified poisoning.  But Joyce was a home body.  She never made it out of the two back yards.  From the time she came to eat, we could tell things weren’t right with Joyce.  When walking, she never got faster than a snail’s pace.  I would have to watch my step so as not to step or trip on her.  She was constantly gagging for air.  When she tried to sit down, she never made it to a full sitting position.  And in those two years, male cats never came near her.  There was no doubt in our minds that she had suffered birth defect or something had harmed her in some manner.  She would eat, but never before the other cats.  She ate and drank enough to keep her alive.  Being she was a stray, we never tried to pick her up as we probably would only add to her pain.  We really felt there was nothing we could do for her except let her live out her life in what comfort we could give her.  She was never lacking for food or water.  Eventually she left entirely the house next door and moved in our back yard.  She did nothing except lay around where she ate and drank.  Little kittens would try to play with her, but finally they moved on to another cat. 

            “I really don’t think Joyce will make it in the heat,” said my son.

            I was optimistic and replied, “She made it through winter.”  Last year was not a bad winter, but the previous one was.  I had to believe Joyce would make it.

            But the heat got her.  I found her barely off our patio.  On one of the hottest days, Joyce had passed away.  She was buried under the pear tree in our back yard.  It is hard not to get attached to a cat you see every day.  We miss her!

Corn On The Cob

The internet has become a great tool in researching.  I thoroughly enjoy sitting behind the screen looking up information in the comfort of my own home.  Who would have ever thought growing up in the sixties that such technology would be available?  The education I got those years back does not compare to what I am learning on my own by researching.  I can’t say whether everyone benefits from this knowledge at their fingertips.  But I do.

In writing these articles about cats, I do research.  I had pets all my life.  There are still things I don’t know.  For instance:  A male cat is called a Tom.  Wait!  I did know that!  But I never knew what a female cat was called.  She’s merely a She, Queen, but more commonly, a Molly.  A male cat neutered is a gib.  An inside cat is a Housecat by name. Yea, I had heard that somewhere.  Wild cats in a group are a colony.  The knowledge even on cats can be endless.  But what puzzled me the most is what a cat can and can’t eat. 

It was all those years in the sixties growing up on a farm, we had cats.  Since we grew most of our own food and my parents ran a country grocery store, we went seldom to that big food chain store.  We already had the basic needs. 

I never once saw either parent buy that bag of cat food for personal use or to sell in the store.

I remember Mother saying, “You can feed the cats just about anything.  But don’t give them chicken or fish.  They can catch bone pieces in their throat.”

It was the only restriction.  And so; chicken and fish were disposed of properly.  We fed our cats table scraps.  The cat seemed to love that bowl of fresh milk from our own cows.  No one ever said we were feeding our cats wrong.  It was a time of not knowing different or questioning. The cats on a farm seemed to have a long life unless some unforeseen tragedy took them.

But today the list seems endless to what not to give them.  There’s chocolate, grapes, raisins, sugary items, milk, onions, and garlic.  And the list goes on and on.  We do feed strays and indoor cats, the dry cat food, canned food, and treats.  Our indoor cats are spoiled and will not eat any scraps from the table.  The outdoor cats will eat scraps.  It states in the list that one can feed table scraps, but not to exceed 10% of the diet.  Table scraps to an outside cat is like a delicacy.

We became amused when we first saw the stray cat named Skillet eat corn on the cob.  I don’t know what or how we first started this.  If one ear is put out, one cat may eat and others wait in line for their turn.  It is seen as an item to protect and not given up easily to others.

Whenever corn on the cob is on our menu, it's also on the stray cat menu. 

Then; There Were None

            Out of four kittens, only one survived.  It was the offspring of Devil Eyes.  It was a solid black long haired kitten.  It grew up with us not knowing what it was.  Whether male or female, the extremely long hair and the distance the stray cat kept itself from us, made it impossible to tell its gender.  And so; we named the cat Tarzan.

            But Tarzan soon showed us what it was.  The cat turned out to be a she when she brought near the feeding area for strays, seven little kittens.  At first she moved them between flower pots and then slowly into an open shed she moved them.  I began to think we miscounted as next day there were only six.  And then; the next day there were only four.  The next day had us counting only two.  And then; there were none.

            The advice is not to feed strays as it would surely bring other wild animals.  But what killed the kittens?  They did leave small bits of kitten behind.  We had to find out what killed them.  Was it raccoon, opossum, skunk, fox, or just what was it?  It was two sleepless nights for us with the culprit showing himself.  Food placed in particular areas had us seeing a back yard infested with raccoons.

            Tarzan, or should I say Jane, has continued to stay around.  Apparently she will do this until she goes into heat and becomes chased by males.  Traps can catch raccoons.  But still it is illegal in the state.  And so, avoiding this act of nature happening again, the food must go.  Raccoons are nocturnal animals and so before dusk hits, the cat food and water is now taken up.  In case a raccoon lingers behind past daylight, there is no food put out until around nine.

            It was a scary thing staying up and watching inside the safety of the den the pack of raccoons in the back yard.  I did research on the internet looking for all I could about the raccoon.  The taking away of food seems to be working.  They learn a route where they suspect food to always be there.  There isn’t any now at night.  There is no indication left that they have now been around.

            I realize they say there are so many strays out there.  But how can that be as there are now seven less.  And this is not the first time cats or kittens have disappeared.  There are predators out there it seems for all different animals.

            What I thought was safety in my back yard turned out to be a death trap.  But still cats need food and water to live.  The food will continue to be put out and taken up.  One battle has already been won as we are certain it was raccoons.  It hasn’t taken the cats long to figure out new feeding time of nine.  Upon the picnic table and on the patio, cats are in wait for food and water.  And what is so surprising to us is that the cats didn’t stay around much in the daytime before.  But now, they are lying around more in the area.  Could they be feeling safer?  I know I feel something different about the back yard.  I really believe the raccoons are gone.  Perhaps that is the difference I feel.  Perhaps that is the difference the cats feel.  I will stick with what I am doing about the food.  If it stops working, I will change to another plan.  For now, it is working!

            Raccoons are pretty animals.  But they are known to carry rabies.  The raccoons must stay gone.

Theodore

Theodore was a member of a Robin family.  He was one of four baby birds.  Since hatching, all were nurtured by Mom who brought worms.  From the start, Theodore displayed independence earlier than the rest.  While Mom was away from the nest in search of food, Theodore climbed to the edge of the nest.

“It is time,” he said, “I can teach myself to fly on my own.”   So off the edge of the nest he jumped only to fall to the ground. 

            “I know I’m ready.”  He kept telling himself.  With his continuous flapping of his wings from the ground, soon his efforts had become real.  Finally into the air, he did go flying.  “Hooray, I’m flying on my own,” He yelled this at the top of his beak.  In his excitement, he lost track of where he was.  He looked around and began to cry.  He didn’t see his Mother, Father, two brothers, nor sister.  He was alone and he was lost.

            Upon return to the nest with worms, Mom noticed immediately that one was missing.  “Where’s Theodore?” she cried out. 

            “He fell out of the nest!” The little birds all yelled at the same time.  There came an immediate search of the ground as Mom and Dad both flew about looking for the lost Theodore.  They made contact calls hoping he would hear.  And when the search came up empty, Mom began to fear the worst.

            “Theodore has surely been seized by some predator.  It was surely a cat!”  She told her husband.

            “You’re always thinking the worst,” He replied.  “From the time he was hatched, he was learning survival.  He’ll be alright.”

            With each passing day, it seemed obvious that Theodore was not coming back.  Each available moment Mom and Dad taught the young birds the importance of family. 

            “You will become impatient to grow up.  But don’t try to grow up too fast.  You will learn to fly.  You will learn survival with proper teaching.  Please allow us to teach you all what you will need to know to make it on your own.  Independence will come in its own time.”

            And in time, all did learn to fly.  They did leave the nest to go out on their own.  But never once did they forget family as every holiday, they returned home.

            It was on such a holiday when to their surprise a strange bird appeared at the nest.  But he was no stranger at all.  His name was yelled by all, “Theodore!”

            And now everyone sat on the nest listening to Theodore’s many adventures. 

            “Let me tell you about my encounter with a cat,” said Theodore.  “Was about to become his meal.  But I talked that cat down with kindness.”

            The story was a little bit hard to swallow.  But everyone listened.

            “We learn to respect all God’s creatures.  They have their place on earth too,” He said.

            Maybe Theodore’s stories were a little hard to believe.  But a little kindness and respect can go a long way in any situation.

           

Parker In The Park

          In the summer, I took my children to the park.  It was hours of play, topped off with a picnic lunch.  Those many years back were fun.  The years went by and the children grew up.  The three girls moved away, but the son remained.  He was too old to spend a day with me playing at the park.  But as the years had changed things, the park itself had changed too.  Our favorite park had its play area for small children with newer updated equipment.  It had its ball fields with fences.  It had its tennis courts.  But new to the area was a disc golf course put in for adults.  Through the woods the baskets for the game were displayed.  And now, I would sometimes go with my son to play a game of disc golf.  But mostly; he went with friends.
          It seems like there are stray cats everywhere. We saw one even there.  She was wild no doubt; but yet came close enough begging for food.  We found ourselves taking some cat food with us on our trips to the park.  The cat had the whole woods to hunt.  It was obvious it knew how to find food.  But the added treats seemed welcome.  And then one day as we were leaving, a car came driving up fast.  A male passenger got out of the car and headed for the cat.  He opened a can of food and the cat began eating immediately.  I took the opportunity to walk over and start a conversation with him.
          “I see you’re feeding the cat,” I said. “We’ve been feeding it too.  I feed many strays already.”
          He seemed kind of short with me.  I could tell he did not want to talk to me.
          He came back with a response, “If you’re feeding many cats, you need to call someone and get them picked up.  This is the golfers’ cat.  We have been feeding her for two years.”  He continued.  “Do you see her left ear?  It is clipped.  We had Baby fixed so she would not have any kittens.  We’re taking care of her.  We don’t need you feeding her.”
          I had not seen that cat in the two years until then.  But at the disc golf course again, I found another gentlemen with whom I brought up the cat in conversation.
          “Her name is Baby and we have been feeding her for four years.”
          “Four years,” I asked, “I’m confused!  That man I talked to the other day said two years.”
          “Don’t listen to him.  He doesn’t like any of us taking care of the cat, but him.”  He laughed, “Her name is really Baby and she follows the golfers around as they play.  She doesn’t really belong to anybody. A cat is a very independent animal.  So whatever you do, do not try to pick her up.  She’ll tear you apart.”
          They couldn’t pick her up.  She was probably trapped some way to get spayed.  I had played golf myself on that course making me a golfer.

Since I am part owner of a cat in the park, I gave her the last name Parker.  It made it easier for me to talk about her.  People, in many cases, don't stay regular on what they do.  A neighbor next door puts out food on her front porch now and then.  She never stays regular with it.  A cat becomes dependent on the food.  So, how can anyone just stop the feeding when they start?  I realize a day of feeding by even the golfers may be missed.  I take cat food with me when going to the park.  I carry food in case I see a stray anywhere.  The one golfer said she was the golfers' cat.  Because these golfers never saw me on the course before does not mean I haven't played my game when they weren't there.  As a golfer, I do see Baby Parker as mine too.

An Act of Compassion

          Somehow, someway, indoor cat Shadow Anne got outside. Perhaps a door left slightly open as someone came in or went outside.  Cats are known for squeezing in small spaces.  Or maybe, she merely slipped by without notice.   Regardless, she got out.  Her absence was not known until the next morning as she sat at the front door wanting inside.   It was noticed immediately that there was something different about her as she tried to enter the house.  Shadow was dragging one back leg.  Immediately my daughter screamed for her husband. "There’s something wrong with Shadow!”

It didn’t take a veterinarian to tell them she had a broken leg.  But it was a mystery as how?  There appeared to be no injury marks anywhere else.  Perhaps the vet could give an answer.  As soon as her regular vet’s office was open, Shadow was taken for medical attention.  But what followed was one vet office visit after another.

            In 2009, my daughter and her husband were working at the same company.  Their jobs were moved to another state.  What came next was unemployment followed by temp jobs.  Deeper and deeper they were getting into debt as not enough money to pay bills from the life style they had become accustomed. It never fails that life always manages to throw you that unexpected bill.  With Shadow, her vet wanted over two thousand dollars to operate on the broken leg.  And during that visit, he described the broken leg as maybe she got tangled up in something.

            My daughter was told by many if she could not afford the payment to have the animal put to sleep. She was overwhelmed with tears and couldn’t accept that.  With each trip to a vet’s office, her tears became heavier.  Finally one vet showed his Act of Compassion by saying, “I have to charge something.  I have expenses of my own.”  He paused and added, “I will do the surgery.”  He quoted her a price with a four hundred dollar down payment and the rest to come later.  She managed to come up with the upfront money by borrowing.  The surgery turned out to cost one half less than all others were going to charge.

            Today, Shadow walks with a limp.  But she is able to use that leg.   She’s got many more years of love to give and to receive.  My daughter and her husband could not afford that large fee.  But I guess they would have paid it somehow if that one veterinarian had not showed an Act of Compassion.  Just how far will someone go for that pet they love?  I think there are a lot of us out there who would say, “Expense is no object.  If we could not really afford it, we would probably have cried all the way to one vet’s office after another also.  After all, we do love our pets.”