As silly as it is to think that cats somehow know where to go for a sympathetic pushover of a human when they’re in trouble, at some point you have to start asking yourself where blind coincidence ends and where that freaking sign is (maybe written in invisible cat pheromone on your front door like lamb’s blood on the lintel) that signals every hard luck kitty case in 4 states to show up looking for help.
This has been happening to me my whole life. Rare is the cat who doesn’t come up to me and want to be petted…even cats whose owners swear to me that they’re a feral demon cat who hates all humanity with a fiery passion. I’ve had a mangy bag o’ bones jump into the car with me in a grocery store parking lot. I’ve had a nearly-starved kitten climb out of my car’s wheel-well and collapse across my foot one hot summer afternoon when I came out off a store. I was once sitting in my parents’ backyard, when I saw a tragically skinny little furball climb the fence, get to the top, and tumble off. As I walked over to it, it dragged (literally) itself toward me and finally mewed once and lay still at my feet. That was a close one. I was convinced she was dead. She was being bitten to death by fire ants, and it was a long time before she was normal again.
Then there was the kitten who virtually fled into my arms after being chased across a busy city street by three Goth transvestites last year.
Well, it happened again. A friend of mine has a kitten that he can no longer take care of, as he travels too much for his job. I was over at his place, and his kitten crawled up into my lap and promptly fell asleep while we were talking over her eventual fate. I flatly refused to take her, since I have three already. We discussed neighbors and friends and no-kill shelters, and when I decided to leave for the evening, I tried to dislodge the kitten from my lap. She. Would. Not. Move. She clung to me, crying and hissing, and when I pried her off and tried to hand her back to my buddy, she spat and struck at him with her claws. Weird.
He e-mailed me today to ask if I am absolutely SURE I don’t want her…and of course, I’m considering it. Siiiiigh.
Really? All this time I thought you were a tom-Ogre.
I feel your pain, no mater whether you’re a fem or a boi. I had one foster cat. She went home. Now I have two foster cats. I fear more will be mine before time runs out. I guess it’s because I like cats rather than kittens all my friends regard my house as a cat depository.
Ah that’s nothin’! My aunt’s has lierally hundrdeds of cats of all ages and types. Granted they all live in the barn rather than the house, and most of them just kind of wabdsre in rather thaan being taken in, but still hundreds.
Sometimes I think that neighborhood cats are leaving invisible “hobo marks” on the front gate to indicate that we are an easy touch. It seems as if every stray cat in the area eventually ends up at our house. And they never leave. Why should they? We provide soft beds, all the food they can eat, kitty toys, companionship.
Of course, we also provide neutering, but we don’t tell 'em about that in advance.
Once upon a time in a duplex far, far away (okay, only 30 minutes away by car), the hubby and I landed in the middle of a feral cat colony. At our peak, we were managing, oh, 20-25 cats.
In a neighborhood of renters, nobody cared but us. And as if it could get any worse, neither of us had ever had a cat before. Before long, and after much study, we were trapping, spaying/neutering and adopting out all over the place. Some lived, some died, some went to new homes, 7 ::cough:: became our very own.
When we left, we only left one spayed female behind. She simply did not trust any human. It was a sad and stressful time, but I wouldn’t give up the experience (or my babies) for nothin’. It seems you feel the same way.
And there ain’t nobody going to tell me you can’t tame a feral cat. I’m the master!
I added a fourth to my household a few months ago. It’s not too much different than three, just a bit more crowded. Of the four I’ve got I only sought out one of them. Of the others, one threw himself at me in a parking lot (literally), one was delivered to my doorstep by friends, and the last little one was a foster kitten that sort of, um… stuck.
I think it’s kind of cool that you’re one of the feline chosen. They’re pretty discerning you know.
Heh. My back porch is a Pussy Motel 6, complete with the light on. There’s some kinda city kitty paper where they give one another directions to find my place, I swear.
I have 9, you have some catching up to do. Take the kitten.
Besides the kitten already chose you so you have no say in the matter anymore.
Nine cats may really be too many but it seems to work out. Some will fight a little, then the same cats will be sleeping together on the couch or bed. Some will play together, and then snuggle up. Some just try to ignore each other most of the time and other times they will be snuggled up together. I’ve even seen all but one snuggled up together on my bed all at the same time. I wasn’t in the bed at the time because there was no room left for me.
