Feral Cats

This blog was jointly written by me and my husband.

My sweetie thinks that I should use the word feral in the story of the Mighty Grey. He was listening to the radio the other day and heard a conversation about them. The question posed to the listeners was: who is more fierce -- a feral cat or an animal rights activist? The callers who responded seemed to think that a feral cat was.

One of the callers told about a time he drove down the alley and was going to run down a cat (not run over it, but get it to move). He stopped within 6 inches of the cat. He got out of his truck and looked at the feral cat. The cat stood its ground with a look that said, "What? Is that all you've got?"

We've had our own experience with them, as they congregate next door to us. They are not skittish or intimidated by us. They sleep on our outdoor furniture, leaving their hair all over, even though we have tried numerous things to discourage them. They lay on top of the wall or even on our roof to taunt our dog. I have seen three at once drinking from our pool. They use our entire yard as a litter box and saunter as they walk (even if we come outside) as if they had free reign of our property.


One of the worst problems we have with them is that they have gotten into our attic.
It all started when a door, which allows access to the attic, was left ajar. It was probably a cold and/or rainy night. A cat must have been seeking shelter. The next thing we heard was mewing.
So Bob left the door open, hoping that the cat would come out. And thus began our intense dislike of these feral cats.

Bob has tried many times to rid them, but they hide under the insulation and won't come out.
Kittens have been born in our attic. They come out at night and walk all over (sounding like a grown man). Not to mention all the mewing that travels through the vents and drives our dog crazy. Just when we think they are all out of the attic and Bob closes the door, one of the gargantuan warrior cats uses its mutant body to force open the door and it starts all over again. When Bob has seen them outside the door, he's tried to sneak up on them to close the door (thinking they will run away) but they run back in and jump back up to the attic.

The dilemma is, if they are not all OUT before we secure the door completely, they will eventually die up there. Then Bob will have to go and dig their decaying bodies out of the insulation.

Dog Games

For as long as I can remember, our family dogs would run away and not come back until they were darn well ready to. First there would be some (major!) humiliation as we'd follow them hither and there calling (begging) them to come to us. Not only would they run, but they would stop and sniff around until we would be almost within an arms length and then they'd run again. Great fun they had, at our expense.

Finally, when the dog was very thirsty or maybe a bit tired, it would let us catch it. Not one time did it come to us when we'd call. And it didn't jump into the open car door as we'd drive along behind it either. It would pretend to be engrossed in some smell in the grass and would let us "sneak up" and grab it's collar.

At this point we would feel elation that we had CAPTURED the dog and were the triumphant ones!

The Mighty Grey

I haven't seen the creature in I don't know how long, but I think it may have spawned some offspring. Now I am seeing a "cat" of gargantuon porportions. It is the size of a medium dog. I'm not talking about a fat cat. This is some mutant fully equipped warrior feline. It walks across our backyard fearless of our dog, who easily out weighs this sleek mammal three times over.

This grey animal is a wonder to behold. It catches your eye and holds your gaze. Unlike it's parent, the creature, who would hold your attention in shock and terror. The creature would streak by and allow only a quick glimpse of itself. This majestic son parades around to allow you to see him in all his glory.