I pulled the string on the trap and heard the whap as the steel door closed. Mama cat started crying as her kitten sat inside. Her other kitten, who was now standing outside, started climbing on top of the trap crying for its littermate. I started crying too. I was a mom and felt for her. I prayed to God I had done the right thing.
I went inside and called Tammy, the woman who coordinates rescues with Helen Sanders CatPAWS, a local cat rescue. We had been communicating via email and she had lent me a humane trap.
“Tammy, can you come quick? I’ve caught one of the kittens. What do I do now?”
“Be right there,” she replied.
She was on my front porch within minutes. Tammy helped me remove the feral kitten from the trap and deposit it in a doggie crate we had set up in advance. Then we returned to catch kitten number two.
Mom was feral and hung out with a similar tomcat who was identical to her, only much heavier. She was barely a teenager herself and had probably gotten pregnant in her first heat. I had been feeding daddy for a while and one day he showed up with a smaller cat so I added her to mealtime. She disappeared for a few weeks and returned with two kittens.
I had been following these kittens around my neighborhood for weeks trying to catch them. I wanted to get mom and dad spayed and release them, but before I could, here she was with kittens in tow.
Mama and daddy looked like Maine Coons with tons of fluffy fur. I called them Mama and Daddy Green Eyes for their emerald eyes. Their kittens looked just like them, with grey and charcoal markings and bright green eyes.
I wanted to catch them before they became ‘coyote food.’
My daughter Mary and I spent an entire day trying to corral them into a dog crate. After two weeks of trying to capture them, I was desperate. These critters were like greased lightning, so I contacted Helen Sanders CatPAWS rescue and talked with Tammy.
I went to church that Sunday evening with a heart full of frustration and sorrow. Resigned to giving up, I told God, “If you want me to find homes for your creatures why won’t you help me save them?”
As I came around the corner from church there they were, right on my front stoop. “Thank you God,” I said.
Now here Mama Green Eyes was yelling her head off over her kittens, but I knew she would abandon them soon and move on. I had watched her wean them to dry food right on my porch. They no longer needed her. I wanted to find them a safe home.
Here we were on Sunday night trying again to catch these kittens. Tammy reset the trap and I caught kitten number two. We fed Mama Green Eyes and I reassured her I would take good care of her babies. She ate her tuna and left.
I put the doggie crate on my service porch with a tiny lid from a cereal box with litter inside. The twins had kitten food, water and a clean towel to snuggle in.
The next morning I awoke to loud squeaky meows and hurried to my porch to see them. It was day one and time to get them to my veterinarian, Dr. Oliver, for check-ups, de-fleaing and find them a foster home.
I didn’t count on the spitting, hissing, and tantrums they threw when I tried to pick them up. This was going to be more of a challenge then I thought. I kept reminding myself that God must want me to help them or I wouldn’t have caught them.
Heavy garden gloves with leather palms helped me get them in a carrier for their trip to the vet. I noticed one was a lot smaller than the other; it must be the runt of the litter I thought. It seemed more curious than the other despite its size.
Both kittens turned out to be males and I found myself buying two “kitten packages.” This included shots, a health check-up, and de-worming. I added de-fleaing. I thought they might have a better chance of adoption if they had shots and were healthy. I couldn’t adopt them; I already had Brodie the cat and Mollie the beagle. I was retired and on a fixed income. I was already over budget with the vet expenses. This hadn’t been in my plan but evidently He had a different one.
Los Alamitos Animal Hospital requires names for their health records so I just blurted out Fritzie and Freddie. Fritzie was the runt and weighed only six ounces; Freddie was a little heavier at seven. They were fairly healthy but malnourished, which didn’t surprise me, since mama was feral. The rescue had given me spay certificates but they didn’t weigh enough yet for that. Freddie had a deformed paw and was missing a couple toes. He also had a broken tail. What had these poor kittens endured before they came to me?
When I got home I deposited the boys back in their crate and got on Google looking for feral cat groups. I emailed each one but the answer was always the same, “We’re full up, it’s been a big kitten season.”
I asked friends and family if anyone wanted Fritzie and Freddie. They were so attached to each other it was both or none.
I certainly couldn’t take them to the shelter, they were so darn cute plus they were getting into my soul. But this wasn’t going to be an easy journey. They were feral, after all.
Since we had a heat wave, I moved them into my office, which had air conditioning and was about twelve by twelve feet. I settled them in with kitty toys, litter box, water, food bowls, and borrowed Mollie’s pet bed.
At first they wouldn’t let me near them; the hissing, spitting routine would start. They ran up my window drapes, so I got them a cat tree. They walked on my computer keys at night and jumbled up my files, so I had to shut it down every night. They hid under my bookcase and hissed every time I came near.
I couldn’t pet them, love them or hold them. My stress level was at an all-time high. I prayed daily for patience. There were days I asked God about His plan and where I fit. No one would want them the way they were. I started holding them with the gloves on and softly talking to them.
My older cat, Brodie, was curious about these new arrivals and would reach under the office door. When he came around they would purr with loud motors and calm down. They were getting tamer.
Fritzie started to put on weight and was catching up with Freddie. He became the tamer of the two. I didn’t dare let them out of the office until they were older since my beagle chases squirrels. I was afraid Mollie might hurt them, they were so tiny.
Months came and went and it was time to let them out of the office. I bought a child gate and partitioned off the living room from the kitchen/family room. Mollie was hostile towards them and again I prayed. I had her on a leash when I watched TV in the living room while they were corralled in the family room. The kittens gave Mollie a wide berth. Some days I put her in her doggie crate in the middle of the room and let the kittens go up to her. They would smell each other but Mollie still barked her head off. This went on for several months; open one door, move Mollie and kittens around, close doors, never letting them be in the same room alone.
They were growing fast and I didn’t know how long I could keep this up. Fritzie was becoming a spitting image of his mama, a huge fur ball and weighed in at fourteen pounds as he turned six months old. Freddie took after daddy with not quite as much fur and blacker tiger streaks. He weighed thirteen pounds. They looked like baby raccoons and I prayed they wouldn’t get much bigger. My pet food bills were skyrocketing. Once again I prayed for help. My daughter donated some pet food and Tammy brought treats and toys.
Fall turned to winter. My patience was just about done. As I came home from grocery shopping one afternoon, I found I had forgotten to lock the gate between rooms. There they were, all standing together in the kitchen. I sat and sobbed. God had given me my happy little family.
LOS ALAMITOS, CA
