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Cass was the wildest of the J ferals. She was my fifth capture when I trapped her in early July 2001, about 18 months old and pregnant with at least her third litter. She was beautiful, but very wild and I released her without regret several days after her spay (I kept her confined for a short time to make sure she didn't suffer any complications, since she had been pregnant). She continued to eat at the feral feeding station I'd established but naturally kept away from me. As time passed, though, I noticed that she wasn't running far and that she'd watch me from a short distance. She progressed from that to greeting me (still from afar) with tiny little mews, then coming up on the deck to wait for me. And finally she began to rub against my ankles when I brought the food. I've always had a "thing" for black cats, as well as for the problem pets. An animal at a disadvantage has always tugged at my heart, and a feral cat is at a decided disadvantage. I had to have this one for my own. But Cass was wary. She wouldn't re-enter the trap, no matter how yummy-smelling the food in it, so I had to think of something else. I finally decided to set up a wire crate at the feeding station and see if, after letting her become accustomed to it, I could entice her in. I had several failures before the evening of Thanksgiving 2001, when I trotted out to the feeding station with a baggie full of chunks of leftover turkey. I tossed a few bits of turkey around the crate door, and some big pieces inside. She ate what was outside the crate, looked longingly at the bigger pieces, and slowly stepped in. As soon as all four feet were inside the door, I slammed it shut (scaring the poor thing I know, but I was afraid she'd slip out if I wasn't very fast), and I had my little black cat. Cass was installed in our spare bedroom, where she remained for three months. At first, I left food out for her so she could free-feed, and at first she didn't eat. After a few days, though, hunger won out and she began to do quite a good job on her meals. Then it was time for me to feed her only when I was in the room. She needed to associate me with something positive, since (understandably) the trust we had built outside had completely evaporated. So I took her food into the bedroom with me and sat quietly in a corner while Cass hid under the bed and hissed at me if I moved. Occasionally I would toss some food under the bed for her. And when I left, whether she had eaten or not, I took the rest of the food out. It took only a few days for Cass to start coming out of her hiding place under the bed to eat while I stayed in the corner, although at first she'd dart back if I moved. Each time I went in, I moved a little closer to her food and moved the food dish a little closer to me until she was accustomed to my presence at close quarters. Then we progressed to hand-feeding. I would toss some chicken on the floor very near me (chicken was very difficult for her to resist), and when she was comfortable with that, I'd hold a small bit in my hand for her to take. After the first six weeks, we had a small breakthrough. I brought her an interactive toy, a fishing-pole arrangement with a suede tassel on the end. It took about ten minutes of making that thing dance in front of her before she finally reached for it. I let her bat it for a short time and bite it, and didn't ask for anything more from her that night, but we played with that toy every day until eventually she was running all over the room after it. She loved it! At the two month mark, we had another success. I had taken Hudson, my former feral kitten, into Cass's room with me, and evidently seeing how he cuddled with me and rubbed against me reassured Cass that I was really okay. Immediately after I put Hudson out of the room, Cass rubbed against me for the first time since I'd brought her inside. And she purred. Her progress was rapid after that. I worked toward being able to stroke her by holding a bit of chicken for her and gently stroking her shoulder with one finger while she ate it. Gradually, I became able to stroke her from head to tail. Because I knew I would eventually need to be able to restrain her, I started to put both hands on her and hold her still for a matter of seconds before releasing her. We practiced this several times at each feeding until I could hold her still for longer periods of time. I acquired a harness for her, and we practiced putting it over her head and taking it off immediately, then slowly increasing the amount of time I left it on. Eventually, I was able to buckle the harness on her and leave it for several minutes. And I practiced lifting her briefly, first just the front of her body and later lifting all four feet off the floor. When Cass had been inside for three months and was comfortable with me, it was time for me to move her to a more public place in the house. Our household isn't especially busy, so this wasn't as traumatic as it could have been. I set up a wire crate for her in the family room complete with a litterbox and food and water dishes, and moved her into it one quiet evening. Of course, she hid in the litterbox for the first three days and reverted to hissing at me when I gave her food and water, but her fear quickly passed and she was much happier being able to socialize with the other cats, even on opposite sides of the crate door. After a few days, I put her harness on and let her out of the crate while I cleaned it up. Gradually, I was able to increase the time she spent unconfined. It was, I think, two months after her liberation from the spare bedroom that Cass was released from the crate for good. She's become a wonderful little companion. She runs to greet me when she hears me coming and I can't sit down without finding her in my lap. If I'm busy in the kitchen, she rubs herself against my ankles while I work--this can be something of an impediment if I'm trying to make my way across the room, but I can't help smiling. She loves attention, loves to be stroked, enjoys being brushed, and goes ape over my husband's laser pointer, also known as The Pink Bug--this is her favorite toy. She is slowly accepting the other humans in the family, although she has laid claim to me as "her" human. She still has some episodes of "feralness", when something clicks as scary in her mind and she feels the need to get away from it, but those pass quickly. And we're still working out some issues--she doesn't like to have her claws trimmed and doesn't like to be held. Still, when I remember the terrified little wild cat I brought into my house, I marvel at the change. Cass has settled into domesticity as if she knew she was meant for it all along. Maybe she did.  If you are thinking of adopting a feral or former feral cat, you may want to take a look at these tips. They may help make the adoption of a feral cat a success. |
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How I wish I'd kept a journal!