The Feral Cat Colony on Darby Road: Part 1

By Kamran Nayeri, November 19, 2012

Our Place Is Where We Are Loved by Jan Yatsko

This essay is about cats, mostly feral or "strayed," that I came to know since I moved to my new home in Sebastopol, California, in August 2011.  It has been hard for me to write about them for reasons that will become obvious to the reader.  The essay will appear in three parts. This is part 1.  It is dedicated to all domesticated animals that live their lives at the mercy of the master who we often call "owner" as if these animals are mere commodities as we once sanctioned human slavery by buying and selling human beings (and in some parts of the world, still do).  I hope it will touch the reader's heart and mind as all other good writings in the literature on animal liberation have done for me.  As Henry David Thoreau noted wisely, enslavement of other animals also enslave us. Without animal liberation there can be no human emancipation.  

When I lived in Atenas, Costa Rica, I met wonderful individuals, mostly women, who operated Fundación Ateniense de Ayuda a Animales Abandonados (Atenas Foundation for Helping Abandoned Animals) on volunteer basis.  They conduct ongoing public education including by setting up a stand at the Friday's farmers market (La Feria) and teaching school children. They also provide free  neutering and spaying of dogs and cats.  Until a good home is found for abandoned dogs and cats, these volunteers offer their own homes as temporary shelter for these often sick and mistreated animals.  This organization is registered in Costa Rica as a non-profit (Cedula Juridica #3-006-542026).

A friend, an artist and Atenas resident, Jan Yatsko used her talents to create the painting "Our Place is Where We Are Loved"  (see above) and donated it to the Atenas Foundation for Helping Abandoned Animals.  All of the proceeds from the sale of this painting will go towards food, medicine and veterinary care.  The painting features Canela (Cinnamon) an abandoned and sexually abused female dog with a big loving heart.  When the abandoned and orphaned kittens were placed near her, she started to produce milk and took care of  them until they were adopted.  Canela was also adopted and now the painting that captured her story is looking for a good home. 

The unframed painting 15" X 20" in an acrylic wash on professional grade watercolor paper.  Cost is $300 dollars + shipping within the US.  Interested people can contact Jan Yatsko for more details at janyatsko@ice.co.cr. Everyone is encourage to visit Jan's website at www.janyatsko.com.

Thank you.

Kamran Nayeri

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The Feral Cat Colony on Darby Road

Mooshi goes to Sebastopol

At 4:30 on August 20 a year ago, I got up from my makeshift bed on the floor of my emptied out bedroom in Montclair, Oakland, put the laundry basket over Mooshi who was still sleep in her bed, pushed a flattened cardboard book box under her bed and used plenty of dock tape to secure the basket on it.  I then put Mooshi in the back of the Prius and drove an hour and half to Sebastopol, 70 miles northwest of Oakland, California.

The sun was rising when we arrived in our new home. I was certain that Mooshi would like her new house that sits on two acres of land in the countryside 3 miles from downtown Sebastopol, a town of about 8,000 people. But how quickly would she adjust?

I first met Mooshi in the parking lot of Ann Head Building complex, part of the University of California at Berkeley, in spring of 2003. Anna Head Building is located at the northeast corner of a large UCB parking lot (which is now turned into a student dormitory).  Mooshi’s stunning beauty—a calico coat with vivid colors of longish hair and beautiful large and intelligent green eyes that made her she look like some Norwegian Forest cat—made me fall in love at the first sight. It became apparent very soon that Mooshi was feral and lived under the building.  I soon began providing her with water and then food on regular basis every day of the year. A cautious cat, it took us a while to get to know each other but eventually we became best friends.  Every morning Mooshi was waiting for me to arrive at work and provide her breakfast. When she was not there calling her name was enough for her showing up. Most days Mooshi would be sitting on top of the forgotten balcony on the second floor just below my office’s window to watch the parking lot as people were heading home.

Mooshi in her home in Sebastopol, 2012

I learned from others that Mooshi was the sole survivor of a litter born across the street sometimes in late 1999 or early 2000. I have no idea how Mooshi’s mother and siblings perished. Perhaps luck was a factor but Mooshi’s intelligent and caution certainly helped her survive. For example, in dry winter days she spent the mornings sitting on top of the hood of newly parked cars to keep warm.  I could see her getting off a car that was parked for a while and jump on top of the hood of a car that recently arrived. She enjoyed watching people, cars and other animals from a safe distance. And she still does. She was also very agile and a great hunter. I called her Mooshi after seeing her one morning with the tail of a mouse briefly hanging from her mouth. In Farsi, “moosh” is the word for mouse.

By 2006, I was looking for another job and had to take Mooshi home. So, I spent months trying to catch her—after all this time I could not, and still cannot, pick her up and hold her in my arms.  She just does not like it. My coworkers, their spouses, people from UCB Animal Control office tried for months to help me catch Mooshi.  Nothing worked.  A woman from animal control with a kind heart for animals gave me a net with a very long handle to catch Mooshi. The idea was to place something tasty on top of the net and then pull it up to catch her.  It did not work.  The husband of a coworker who was suppose to be very good with animals tired to make Mooshi familiar with his scent by leaving his dirty shirts near her food and water dishes. After a few days, he tried to crawl over to Mooshi and grab her.  It did not work. Finally, the Animal Control Office lent me a raccoon trap. For this to work I had to stop feeding Mooshi for as long as it takes for her to walk into the trap for her food.  It tool 10 days of not eating her food—something very hard for both of us. But on March 7, 2006 at about 3:30 p.m. Mooshi walked into the trap.  A coworker with a SUV drove us to the veterinary office.  They ran test for serious infections but fortunately found her to be healthy except for infected teeth. They extracted two infected fangs and some bad teeth and let me take her home. Poor Mooshi was very groggy when I took her to the bathroom that became her room for about a week and [laced her on the towels laid down on the floor of the bathtub.  After a week of regaining her strength and coming out of the initial shook of finding herself in an entirely new place she was well enough to move to the smaller bedroom of the house. I began spending more time with her although she was mostly hiding under the bed.  At night, she tried a few times to break through the glass of the window and jump out.  After about six months, I let Mooshi go out.  When she found a hole under my neighbor’s house she crawled in—looked like home to her. However, after a few hours she came out and I was able to get her back into the house.  After a few times, she was finally at home in the sense that she would go out and come back in on her own accord.

This experience made Mooshi to bond with me more than to where she lived. So, after just three days in her new house on Darby Road she was feeling at home. In fact, Mooshi was actually happier living on two acres of land well populated with gophers!  She spent the next six months gopher hunting. The fact the she never had any success did not matter—it was still a lot of fun and exercise.

Darby Road as a neighborhood

I settled in Sebastopol, California, after a five-year quest to live in Cuba and when that seemed impossible in Costa Rica.  There were different sets of reasons for each of these. But a common factor was the suffering of domesticated animals prevalent in those countries and elsewhere in Latin America (I have also seen it in Mexico and Venezuela). Once in Trinidad, Cuba, I found a blind dog dying of starvation/dehydration under the cocktail table I had sat by to enjoy live music.  In Atenas, Costa Rica, where I wished to settle down dogs that are lucky to belong to someone are tied to a post on a short metal chain 24 hours a day for almost all of their lives—they are used as burglary alarm.  In Ensenada, Mexico, it was not uncommon to find dogs with open wounds or dead by the side of the road, hit by a car.  I limit my observation to dog abuse as the Latin culture is a “dog culture!”

Sebastopol, a town of 8,000 people, seemed to offer some of the qualities of Vinales, Cuba, and, Atenas, Costa Rica. I found a house with an open-space architecture and two acres of land for an affordable price outside of town in a valley that is made up of homes with acreage and apple orchards and vineyards.

The house at the end of the Darby Road appealed to me because it is a quite place facing a meadow engulfed by dense growth of oak and other evergreens that surround a big creek; together they serve as a wildlife corridor.

Darby Road slopes down at about 15 degrees from Burnside—a road that snakes around the top of the hills—surrounded by rows of apple and oak trees, shrubs and weeds, including blackberry bushes.  A deep creek runs parallel to it on the left of the road as one drives down the hill, leading into the big creek.  About 1000 feet from the big creek, Darby Road turns left to become still narrower and much more private.  This part of the road is legally privately held, although people take their walks there or walk their dogs. There are only seven houses on this section of the road.  My house is the last just before a locked gate that makes Darby Road a cul-de-sac.  There are homes on either sides of Darby Road as its slopes down towards the big creek. Most are on private side road. There is a huge apple orchard belonging to a middle-age couple, the Valentios, who are small farmers. They operate machinery such as a giant tractor and a big truck. But manual labor—like preparing the trees, pruning, picking apples--and other more demanding work—are done by seasonal workers of Mexican heritage during the spring and fall seasons. Apples are sold for making juice.  There is also a small five-acre family owned pinot noir farm.  A non-descript building opposite of the small vineyard that is known as the “Apple Shack” is home to some half-a-dozen young male Mexian-American farm workers.

There is considerable number of wildlife such as coyotes, deer, wild turkeys, quarrels foxes, rabbits, gophers, moles, rats and mice, weasels, garden and gopher snakes, lizards, a couple of dozens of regional and migratory birds (quail families live under the blackberry bushes), many garden and house insects, and plenty of various grasses, shrubs, and trees that create a very lively surrounding.  My neighbors have cats and dogs, chicken and ducks, and goats. There is also a rescued horse and donkey.  Neighbors talk about “a bobcat” that lives in the woods surrounding the big creek that has taken their chickens. There is also rumor of mountain lions in the area. But coyotes come here and I once saw one walking briskly past the gate to the neighbor’s apple orchard towards the big creek.  Some nights, I wake up from their howl as they are just outside of my window.

The feral cat colony

One morning a few days after I arrived, I was driving to town when I noticed two small orange cats running towards my car from the right hand side of the road. This portion of Darby Road is surrounded by apple orchards with blackberry and other bushes on both sides of the creek to the one side and blackberry bushes that serve as a wall to hide a quite house on the other. It also serves as the location for loading and shipping apples in late summer and early autumn. Rusting disabled farm trucks and machinery, heaps of worn out tires and wasted wood made it clear that it was also a dumping ground.  The cats were coming from a location near a flat bed truck that was half sunken into the soil and partially covered by blackberry bushes. A rusting shell of an old truck stood 100 feet further some 20 feet away from the road.

I pulled the car to the shoulder and stopped. When I stepped out the cats came running to me robbing their faces and sides against me. I immediately noticed than one of the orange cats had a large open wound above her right eye.  They both looked very small, very thin.  I thought they were kittens. I quickly figured out that they are starving.  They wanted food.

I returned home and brought back several cans of cat food with me and a few dishes and a fork. It took them no time to swallow whatever I served. Meanwhile, I noticed that a black cat has also appeared, and in the distance, a calico cat.  The black cat came closer and let me pat him.  I had to get more food.

Thus began my relationship with the feral cat colony on Darby Road.  The first couple of weeks the cats devoured anything I gave them and licked dishes clean.  They were very much undernourished and both orange kitties appeared seriously sick.  The orange kitty with the wound over her right eye was by far the friendliest.  She actually wanted me to pat her as much as she wanted to eat her food. The other orange kitty sounded as if she suffered from an upper-respiratory infection.  She was also skittish but being so starved she allowed met to touch her while she was eating.  I was so busy with these two cats that the black cat and calico cat simply ate their food in a distance.

Orange Kitty Number Two

After the immediate problem of severe malnutrition was alleviated as the cats began to simply eat their food as opposed to swallow it as fast as they could, I decided to take the orange kitty with the open wound to a veterinarian.  I thought that a raccoon or a fox might have bitten the cat and the wound was not healing due to microbial infection.  The idea occurred to me as a raccoon and a fox did indeed appear at feeding times at the beginning.  Apparently, some kind-hearted neighbors threw food for the cats allowing other animals to eat them.  The raccoon and the fox must have learned that they can share in the cat food being left there never mind that it was served during the day and by the road where people drove by. I was hoping a regime of antibiotics might heal the cat’s wound and if the cat did not have a serious transmittable disease, I could take her home. So, I borrowed a trap from a neighbor, made an appointment (subject to being able to trap the cat) with the nearest veterinary practice-- Analy Veterinary Hospital—and on a Thursday morning placed a small amount of food on a plate deep inside the trap, set the trap, and waited for the orange kitty with the wound to show up. She usually came first. However, the second orange kitty that usually did not show up early and sometimes at all showed up and walked directly into the trap so I closed it manually. 

We registered the cat as the Orange Kitty Number One.  The cat was very docile. Dr. Baldwin was able to examine her without any difficulty.  The tests for feline leukemia and feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV) were negative. She was given a slow-release antibiotic shot to treat her upper respiratory infection and release to me to take home.  I also learned that she was female and spayed, probably between 9 to 11 years old—an old age for a feral cat. Almost all her teeth and half her tongue were missing probably due to a blow to the head either by an accident (e.g. a car hit her) or by someone kicking her in the head.  I learned later that she was also almost deaf—whether she lost her hearing due to the trauma to her head or she got into an accident because she could not hear well will remain an unknown.  The notion that someone could have brutalized the cat is not so far fetched.  George, a male orange cat, apparently orange cats are often male, that spent his last two and half years of his life being taken care of by my housemate and I in Montclair, Oakland, carried a booby gun pellet in his body—an X-Ray taken just before he died showed it.  Apparently, a neighborhood kid target practiced using George. 

I took the orange kitty home.  I named her Sayda, a woman’s name in Gillaki languae.  I had prepared the larger bathroom and walking closet for her. 

The next day, I easily trapped the other orange cat. My neighbor who came to help feed the other cats was amazed at how trusting this sweet cat was. We signed her in as Orange Kitty Number Two.

Dr. Baldwin had no trouble examining her either. However, she almost immediately suggested that the wound that did not heal was probably advanced skin cancer.  To examine her further, she had to use anesthesia.  I left the cat with her and went to sit by the phone at home. A call came by mid-day.  Dr. Baldwin told me that the cat was bleeding under anesthesia probably because she had eaten rodents with rat poison.  Rat poison is a potent anticoagulant—it kills rodents by causing severe internal bleeding. She said she would do her best to save her.  A little later she called to say that bleeding had stopped but lab results have come in showing she is infected with FIV. She thought that explained the wound. Because the wound was not operable and the cat seemed to be in late stages of skin cancer and feline AIDS she recommended that I give her permission to end her life while she was under anesthesia.  Her suggestion was a rational choice—the cat probably would not have lived much longer and would die a painful death. She could also transmit the FIV to other cats. I fought back tears as I I give her “my consent” while thinking whom am I to put someone who I just recently met to death?

I left her a message for my neighbor who had helped me in the morning about this tragic outcome. When she came to comfort me I could not hold back my tears no more. I lost a friend that I had not yet quite known.  The little sweet cat had made a warm spot in my heart for the rest of my life. All the pains of my decision to put down Nuppy, one of my closest friends and perhaps my most important teacher, in 2008 returned to me.

My only consolation was that of the two sisters I was able to save one.

Sayda

Sayda turned out to be a vocalizer.  She cried when she used the box, ate her food and she sometimes in the middle of the night.  That worried me.  At the same time, she ate with gusto, a good sign of her desire to live and get stronger.  She also began to enjoy some other comforts of living at home instead of under the blackberry bushes.  Within a few days, she began sleeping in her doughnut shaped bed.

About a week after Sayda came into the house a friend who I had not seen for about about two decades came for a weeklong visit from Iowa.  I had prepared the loft for my visitors. To make sure he could sleep well I spent a number of hours each night sleeping with Sayda in the walk-in closet. This seemed to comfort Sayda as she sometimes curled up in my armpit and fall sleep and sometimes slept just above my head on the carpet. She also learned to enjoy being brushed—and she does need it as her fur forms mats. Sayda’s acceptance of my companionship was fostered by the small size of the closet and the bathroom.  Each time I reached out to touch her initial reaction was to recoil. But once she was touched she relaxed and sometimes even purred softly.

Sayda in her walk-in closet on my bedding, October 2011

After my friend left, I began to leave the bathroom door open so Sayda can walk into the large living room full of light coming through large picture windows. Sayda did come to the door but would not cross into the living room. After a while, I brought her in my arms to the living room to sit by my on the sofa. This was fine as long as I sat by her.  As soon as I moved to do something elsewhere in the house Sadya ran back to the closet.  She did not feel safe in open spaces. 

Meanwhile, Mooshi was curious about this visitor (Moosh is curious and very intelligent).  Whenever she tried to stick her head inside Sayda’s turf she was hissed at and chased away by Sayda. As much as Sayda is docile towards humans she is aggressive towards other cats. Of course, she is bluffing with her small body and bone structure.  I still do not understand how small cats sometimes bully large ones; female cats bully male cats, etc.

After a few weeks living in the walk-in closet and the bathroom, Sayda discovered the loft.  The shape of the loft follows the A-frame structure of the house. The ceiling slopes on both sides. On has to be careful not to hit one’s head against the downward sloping ceiling when walking laterally. On each side where the ceiling become particularly low wooden moveable walls encase spaces that can be used as storage. The front and back of the loft face huge picture windows with beautiful view of the meadow and woodland on one side and the neighbor’s large garden on the other. 

One day, I could not find Sayda in her closet. As the bathroom door was always left open I figured she must have gone somewhere. Sometimes, she would go to my bedroom and hide behind or under the bed.  However, I could not find her anywhere on the main floor. So, I began looking in the loft.  I finally found her hiding in a dark corner of the attic. From that day she made the loft her turf.  At night she ventured downstairs to use her box, which was still in the master bathroom.  Once I realized Sayda is going to stay upstairs I took her box to the attic so she did not need to come downstairs to use it. 

Sayda spent the next couple of months hiding behind and under the bed or in dark corners of the attic.  I was no longer able to touch her or brush her. She would runs away.  So, she was putting up with me while in the closet. There was nowhere to hide there.

One night frustrated by Sayda’s behavior, I laid on my belly on the carpet facing her under the bed and talked to her for about 10 minutes.  I asked her why is she playing this game. Are I not the same person who held her, fed her, brushed her?  Why is she now acting as if I am a threat to her? I told her that she should accord herself more comfort. Why spent most her time day and night under the bed as opposed to elsewhere in the loft? I then went downstairs to go to sleep for the night.

I do not know what might account for it, but the next day I found Sayda sitting on the carpet by the bed and not under it.  She never went back to sleeping or hiding under the bed. 

A couple of month later I had a similar monologue with her this time telling her that I have lost my patience with her not ever coming downstairs.  There is sunshine there and she could be in the company of Mooshi and Sunny (I will tell her story in Part 2) and me.

Sayda on her Iranian rug cushion on the main floor of the house. spring of 2012

The next day, Sayda came downstairs and sat on an Iranian rug cushion a couple of feet away from my workstation.  Ever since Sayda comes downstairs every morning after her breakfast and remains there catching the sun light as late as the mid-day.  Sometimes she also comes down at night to sit with the rest of us as I watch a movie or relax on the sofa listening to jazz with Sunny on my chest or legs.

Sayda has also ventured outside a few times.  However, it is clear she feel very unsafe because she is almost deft and is constantly surprised by people and animals showing up in her field of vision blurred by cataract.   

For the first 8 months Sayda’s health seemed to vacillate between poor to somewhat better. Her appetite was not great and seemed to vacillate.  She had formed a large mat on her back that obviously bothered her.  She seemed unwell and showed obsessive/compulsive behavior by licking fur off behind both her back legs and by licking the carpet.  She also exhibited behavior as if she was constipated or had problem passing down her food.  One day all of the sudden she stopped eating. This went on for a few days. I got worried.

One morning when she was sunbathing downstairs, I put a laundry basket over her, slipped a flattened book box under her and taped the basket over it secure. I took her to the veterinary hospital.  Dr. Cloninger found no mass in Sayda’s intestines. But she did find her to suffer from a blood infection common to feral cats.  She gave her a strong shot of antibiotic and sent her home with a two-week regiment of antibiotic. I put the pills in treat-like pill pockets and Sayda eat them gladly. 

Within a few days she felt better except for the onset of diarrhea.  I gave her probiotics for cats.  After 10 days, I called Dr. Cloninger and she agreed to stop the antibiotics.  Sayda’s appetite and behavior improved, She actually put on a little weight—she is still very small.  She does not show obsessive/compulsive behavior and she is not sleeping as much—although she does sleep a lot.  I figure this may be normal for a deft cat.  Also, she has lived about 10 years as a feral cat—most feral cats die within a few years. She is an old lady with disabilities and trauma of a hard life that limit her abilities to enjoy the pleasures of everyday life. Sayda still has nightmares and wakes up crying loud. Only when I rush upstairs to talk to her does she calms down and perhaps fall sleep again.

All the same, Sayda is now part of our household.

To be continued: Part II: Lulu, Calico and Sunny

Man's Dominion: The Case of Thompsons' Private Wildlife Reserve

By Kamran Nayeri, February 5, 2012

A lion gunned down, one of 49 animals killed by the police

Man’s Dominion over nature has characterized Our Way of Life for thousands of years.  Speciesism—the ideology of human superiority—is essential for our "civilization" based on class society and our domination of nature.  Speciesism, like racism or sexism, must be overcome in the process of human emancipation. While racism, sexism, and class domination must be overcome to do away with pathologic social relations, speciesism must be overcome to reunite our way of life with the rest of nature. The latter has become of immediate concern due to the planetary ecological and environmental crises such as global warming and catastrophic climate change.

A particular aspect of Man’sDominion is the way humans have abused wildlife in all kinds of manners from fishing and hunting (for "sports" or for commercial interest) to enslavement and abuse animals for “entertainment” (e.g., zoos,circuses, sadistic shows such as bull fighting, cock fighting, etc.).  With the development of world commerce, trade in wildlife has become a lucrative business just as slave trade did earlier (see, for example, here).  While the recent animal rights movement has scored some gains for animal welfare human tyranny against other animals surpasses whatever humans have done and are doing to one another and animal liberation remains a much elusive goal.  

The following story illustrates the point: an Ohio couple of dubious social character had managed to assemble a private reserve of 69 large mammals, including those classified as "endangered species" and abused them in captivity.  Except for occasional slap on the wrist, their activity has been largely legal as trade in wildlife is a legal international practice and animal abuse in routinely ignored.    

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On February 1, mass media reported on the “accidental” death of a leopard at the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium.  The leopard was killed when a zookeeper smashed it under a heavy metal door when closing the cage.

The 2-year old leopard was one of six animals that survived a carnage when Zanesville, Ohio, police killed 49 animals, including 18 Bengal tigers (an endangered species), 17 lions, six black bears, a pair of grizzlies, three mountain lions, two wolves and a baboon last October.  Terry Thompson, 62, the owner of the private reserve in Zanesville had let them loose before fatally shooting himself. Mr. Thompson was recently released from prison after serving one year on federal weapons charges. He had been cited for animal abuse and neglect in the past.

A gross necropsy of the leopard revealed that he suffered a number of pre-existing conditions including injury and malnourishment that weakened his bone, broken bones in his back and tail that had not properly healed.

Reportedly, many animals on the reserve were malnourished, neglected and abused, including a brown bear, two lions, two Celebes macaques, and two other leopards.  Their conditions were not properly assessed because of a legal dispute over whether Marian Thompson, Mr. Thompson’s widow, who had helped “care” for the animals, should retain ownership.

In the meantime, the state has directed that the rescued animals be quarantined until it is clear that they do not carry serious communicable diseases. The examination of the animals was ruled out because they had to be sedated, which can be fatal to unhealthy animals. Meanwhile, medical histories of the animals are unknown because the Thompsons did not provide records. 

The Feral Cat Colony on Darby Road, Part 2: Lulu, Calico, Smokey and Sunny

By Kamran Nayeri, October 14, 2014

When I discovered the feral cat colony on Darby Road in late August 2011, it was because two small orange cats ran towards my car due to their state of starvation.  I related their stories in Part 1. They turned out to be sisters about 9-11 years old. The first one I trapped and took to the veterinarian hospital was treatable and I brought her home and named her Sayda (more on her in Part 3). Her sister was not as lucky. She suffered from advanced Feline Immune-deficiency Virus  (FIV) infection and terminal skin cancer and had to be euthanized.  I also noted two other cats that lived in the colony: “ As I was feeding the two starving orange cats …I noticed that a black cat has also appeared, and in the distance, a calico cat.  The black cat came closer and let me pat him.  I had to get more food.”

These two cats seemed healthy and I began taking care of them at the site and still do three years later.  The black cat who tuned out to be an approximately 5 year old male at that time I called Lulu.  The calico cat who according to some locals is a matriarch who before begging spayed gave birth to many kittens who apparently did not survive, I called unimaginatively Calico.  I was not able to trap and take Calico to the veterinarian hospital because she is extremely skittish. So, I know little about her conditions but she has done well the past three years.  

Lulu
Lulu is a beautiful black cat with a touch of white in his chest who must have been someone’s lap cat and then dumped on Darby Road. He absolutely loves human interaction and will easily bond to any friendly person.  He is long, skinny with yellow/green eyes.  Of all my cats here, Lulu and Sunny (read about her below) probably rank as the ones showing most affection.  Everyday, I spend a fair amount of time brushing, holding, hugging, and kissing Lulu on the sliver of land owned by a neighbor before he eats, during his eating (he takes a break for love and then eats some more) and after he is done eating.  He likes to be brushed, to be picked up and put on my lap as I squat on the ground (no chairs there) and being held in my arms as I stand up and walk around.  

Lulu eating food inside the trap I set up for him

I trapped Lulu after a couple weeks of training. To trap him, I carried the trap with me in the back of the car and placed it where I fed Lulu at each meal. At first, I placed his bowl of food near the opening of the trap and over time it more and more inside. One morning when Lulu was inside the trap eating his breakfast which as deliberately small I simply closed the trap door on him, covered the trap in a blanket so he feels less stressed (cats prefer enclosed spaces when in stress) and took him to Analy Veterinarian Hospital.  Dr. Baldwin examined Lulu who was well-behaved, found him to be in generally good health on physical exam and I took him home waiting for the lab results.  

I had prepared the master bathroom with a carpeted walk-in closet for Lulu (Sayda had recently moved from this same space to the loft).  Lulu hated his new space.  No cat likes an unknown territory with strange smells and sounds. Displaying his anxiety, Lulu did not use his bedding and preferred to sleep on the drain in the bathtub. He hissed at me when I offered to brush him. He did not eat well. 

We had a typical spell of hot October weather. So, on Lulu’s second day I opened the window above the sink a crack to let some fresh air inside. 

The next morning, I found that Lulu was gone. He had pressed the window to the left, pushed the screen off and took off.  When I went to feed Calico her breakfast, I found Lulu waiting for me at his usual spot. He greeted me as if nothing had happened: sweet and wanting to be brushed. 

The next day, the antibody test for FIV came back positive. This sank my heart. Could this sweet and otherwise healthy five year old cat be sentenced to an early and terrible death? But the false-positive rate for the antibody test is 25%.  I asked for an ELISA test that actually looks for the FIV virus.  That test came in negative.  The only way that both test were correct is for Lulu to have been infected within the past few months—the virus can still hide but the antibody can be present due to the body’s defense system. 

Dr. Baldwin recommended that I take him back for another test in 3 to 6 months.  I have not done that for three reasons. First, it is very stressful for most cats to be forced to go anywhere, especially where they get pocked around. Cats do not understand what the veterinarian may be able to do for them—that it is for their own good.  Second, there is little more I could do for Lulu even if he turns out to be FIV positive. Third, being a no aggressive cat chances that he would bite and infect another cat is indeed very small. He poses no real danger to Calico or other cats in the area. 

Three years later, Lulu is doing well. I worry a bit about him not gaining weight eating a lot of food. But that can be because of his high metabolism rate.  In recent months, there is a slight discharge from his eyes.  I am not sure why but I like to treat him for that as soon as possible. I think I can give him eye-drops if need be.  I am thinking about taking Lulu for another check. 

I have given Lulu a dose of Frontline each month during the flea season from February/March to November/December.  Lulu tolerated it for a while but more recently he seems more adverse to it. So, the past few month I have given him Comfortis, a new anti-flea medication that comes in edible pill.

Lulu is one happy cat, one of the happier ones I know. He and I love each others company twice a day. He is always waiting for my car to appear and greets me on the passenger door side.  I pick him up, giving him a couple of kisses and then serve his meal.  Before I leave, I often repeat the same ritual.  Once I close the passenger door Lulu knows that it is time to say good bye until the next meal. 

Our bonds has grown so much that I feel he will acclimate to the house if I take him in again.  But I live in an open architecture house (only the bedroom and bathrooms are partitioned) and with three cats in the house there has been no room for a fourth one.  Also, Calico would have become alone and lonely.  Lulu and Calico are not buddies but keep each others company and together watch out for predators and protect their turf. 

Calico  
The local lure has it that Calico is an older matriarch who gave birth a number of times before she was spayed. No one know where her kittens went. I have seen no sign of them in the neighborhood. Presumably they have all died or taken away by someone.  Calico is really Calimanco or Clouded Tiger type of cat by fur color.  That is, her basic color is black covered by spots and strips of orange and dark orange.  Calico is very protective of herself.  Even Lulu does not get too close to her or there will be a paw fight.  She spends a lot of time in her “den” and comes out for sunshine or fresh air or to hunt gophers and watch birds only when it is quiet in her neighborhood. She likes to go across the way to the property where a Costco butcher lives. A gentle giant of a man with a big truck and a huge boat that I have seen him tow to the sea only once in three years.  His yard is overgrown with blackberries and other volunteers, a perfect place for cats and wildlife (but a disgrace by human standards that prefer manicured gardens).  

Calico eating on top of the flatbed truck that was her home

Given Calico’s disposition, I never tried to trap her and take her to the veterinarian hospital.  I argued to myself that even if they find aliments I cannot treat a cat like her.  Thankfully, she has been keeping steady. There are periods of a day or two and rarely longer when she does not show much appetite or does not even show up to eat. I know she is not feeling well. May be a stomach virus.  But she bounces back each time and resume her routine.  Calico is not a big eater but she has more heft to her than Lulu. Although I could not give Calico Frontline for flea treatment, I gave her deworming medication when I I dewormed Lulu too. Cats can get parasites from rodents they eat or from fleas that feed on them. Early on, I noticed a twice or so worms coming out of Lulu’s behind.  The deworming pill can be placed on top of their dried food and the cat easily eat them. My current plan is to keep Lulu at his current location as long as Calico who I assume is older is alive.  

When I arrive here, the cat colony lived under a flat bed of a truck that had sunken into the earth by the creek’s western side.  There was just enough space for a cat to crawl under and there was more space when they moved inside of it. It created something like a metal ceiling cave that protected them from predators and from the elements. About 50 feet south under an old live oak tree is diameter concrete drain pipe two get in diameter that has sunken into the ground at a 45 degree angle. Earth movement has made that into an artificial cave where Sayda and Orange Kitty Number 2 lived.  Later, Calico used to sleep there at times.  

One day, two years ago as I was driving by I saw a man with heavy machinery picking up various metal relics from the cat colony location pilling them on the back of his huge flatbed truck to haul away. Apparently, China’s industrialization has created a market for scrap metal inn the U.S. So, the owners of the apple orchard and the woman who owns the land where the cats live had agreed to let this man haul away these relics at no cost to them. It was a win-win situation for all of them.  Not so for the cats. Lulu and Calico were confused and distressed for a week or two after they lost their hiding places they knew as “home.”  Thankfully, my cat condos for them remained in place—they were not totally homeless. 

However, the three cat condos that I had made for them using two Rubbermaid plastic containers one inside the other for each were now exposed. The design is simple: get two large size Rubbermaid containers so one fits inside the other with some room all around it for insulation.  Then cut a door way for the cats in both container so that they align when the smaller container is placed inside the larger one on top of insulation but leaving enough space for insulation above and under the smaller container.  Then place a doorway—we made it from scrap wood—to create a short tunnel for the cat to get in and out. We then placed insulation between the two containers add some strew as bedding inside the smaller container for the cats to sleep on and be warm. Close the top for the small container. Place Insulation on top of it and then close the top of the larger container. The cat condo is ready for use!  I then placed enough other materials around them with a “court yard” for all three condos  to make it impossible for predators to get into the labyrinth.  I covered everything with a large tarp so no rain water could get in the area surrounding the cat condos. These were made in the fall of 2011 before it got too cold or wet.  When they removed the flatbed truck these cat condos were exposed.  Another neighbor responded kindly helped me by making a great feeding station. It looks like a small house with two windows and a sliding metal roof. The cats can get on the feeding platform from the two windows in the front or from the open back. They can also access their condos from under it. This way the cat condos were protected from the predators and in stormy and rainy days cats could still eat somewhere dry and safe. 

The cats loved their new home. But it took weeks for them to get back to normal, including eating like they did before.

Smokey
A little after I established a feeding routine for Lulu and Calico occasionally another cat showed up for food.  He was a small grey-blue male cat that was not neutered who had small ears, very short fur, fast moving and pushy.  He stayed away from me but he was not shy like Calico was.  He tended to rush toward either Lulu or Calico while eating and push them away to eat from their bowl even when he had his own bowl of the same food. 

Smokey in an early photo when he first showed up for food

When I inquired from neighbors about this cat, Jennie, an one older woman who lived in a smaller of two houses in a vineyard, exclaimed: “Oh, this is Smokey!”  She said Smokey has been around for many years (the years added up to 11-13) and that her late husband used to feed him from time to time in the garage. Jennie still gives Smokey a saucer of milk from time to time.  Obviously, they liked Smokey but never adopted him.  

Smokey was a very intelligent cat. He used his front paws to move food around in his bowl to better eat it.  Also, he did seem to have a friendship with Lulu—the two greeted each other with what appeared to be a kiss— although from time to time he had half-playful paw fights with him and with Calico.  Increasingly, Smokey showed up more regularly so I had another cat condo made for him as the nights were getting fairly cold. 

In the next couple of months Smokey and I became close enough so he would do somersault for me to draw my attention to pat and brush him. I bought a brush for Smokey too and he gradually learned to like being brushed while eating from his bowl. 

However, by December I began noticing lumps on Smokey’s face and infection in is eyes.  Also, he needed to be neutered.  After a gradual period of acclimating him to the trap, I trapped him on Martin Luther Kings Day which was Monday, January 17, 2012.  

It became a messy affair when the door to the trap failed and Sokey got out inside my Prius as I was driving him to Analy Veterinarian Hospital.  When we got there the staff had to sedate and catch him before they could take him to the examination room. 

It turned out that poor Smokey had advanced FIV disease. The lumps in his face and his eye infections were the symptoms. He was a potential threat to other cats due to his aggressive behavior.  A bite from him meant other cats could become FIV infected—a death sentence.  Cats usually die within 5 years of getting infected of opportunistic infections.  The veterinarian recommended and I had to oblige to euthanize Smokey.   

Smokey could have been a wonderful companion to Jennie and her husband had they adopted him in his youth, neutered him and taken care of him. He was probably infected in his middle age in male cat fights which would have been avoided had he been neutered.  He was highly intelligent and displayed affection towards me. He was friends with Lulu who showed signs of wondering what happened to Smokey.  It took Lulu some time to forget Smokey.  

Meanwhile, I had to take my car to a professional cleaner as Smokey had urinated in in his state of fear.  He had every right to fear his situation.  There lies the quandary of humans who take up the task of managing other animals.  To love a cat and to put his to sleep because he could be a danger to other cats cause me once again to question domestication. We have been playing god with other species much more in line with the literal interpretation of the Genesis s than what Darwinian evolutionary theory entails.

Sunny
It was about Christmas 2011 that one morning I saw a very small orange cat running under the blackberry bushes when I stopped to pick up my New York Times from the mail box.  Because I live in the country, mail boxes of an entire group of homes are placed in one location, typically walking distance from each home. 

Sunny in her early months in the house where she spent time behind the books

The next time I saw the orange kitty, I called her and she stopped just under the first row of blackberry bushes.  I opened a can of cat food and put in a bowl near her.  She quickly walked to the bowl and started eating.  In no time, she ate all that I had for her. I gave her the rest of the can and it was gone in no time. Meanwhile, I realized she does not mind me getting closer serving more food.  I began gently rubbing her back while she was eating. She ate three big cans of food before she was satisfied.  Then she walked under the bushes and disappeared. 

The next day, she was there waiting for me. I had a new cat to feed on Darby Road. The difference was that this little cat was reality starving consuming 3-4 big cans of food each day she was totally friendly. I could pick her up and she would purr.  After a few days, I decided to take her home. I picked her up and began walking towards home. Half way to my home, she became nervous and wanted to jumped down. Her body stiffened and her claws sank into my chest. I realized I cannot take her home simply by carrying her in my arms. 

The next day, I brought a cardboard box and tried to place her inside it to take her home. She wiggled out of it after I carried her some distance. 

I decided to trap her and it was done on the first try.  

I took her to the Analy Veterinarian Hospital. She was found to be healthy, about two years old with a hernia due to a poor spaying operation. Dr. Baldwin thought it was not a serious condition.

I decided to call her Sunny after the name Steve and Renee, two of my neighbors who are very kind to cats and take care of a colony of their own on Darby Road had given to the Orange Kitty Number Two.  Sunny did look like she could be the offspring of either of the two orange kitty sisters.

Sunny spent the firs night in the master bathroom.  I remember she defected in the bed I gave her and slept inside her box!  The second night she was out in the living room siting on my lap as I watched a movie.  The transition was amazing.  

After that Sunny was free to roam around the house except she did not feel safe yet and spent a lot of time hiding behind my book on the bookshelf. A photo of her sitting on the bookshelf graces my Facebook page. 

Sunny began getting stronger and more comfortable in the house and put on some weight. In the next six months she almost grew to twice her previous size and now she even has love handles that are not good! 

Sunny’s demeanor helped her stay out of trouble. She is happy to be the bottom of pack cat and would lay on her back on the ground when caused by Mooshi who wanted to show her she is the boss.  That explained why she was so deprived of food. She was outcompeted by other cats and went hungry for a long time.  Also, it explains why she was not bitten by infected cats—she did not contest any one. Still, as I learned later, Sunny turned out to be a great mouser. She is patient, fast and had formidable claws.  She patiently sits by a gopher or vole hole for hours to let her prey to come close by.  She would then pounce! I have seen her eating numerous rodents but unfortunately a few birds as well. 

At home, Sunny is at the bottom of cat hierarchy. Sayda was on the top—even Mooshi stayed out of her turf.  But while Sayda eventually made peace with Mooshi she got still irritated by Sunny for reasons not clear to me.  Mooshi also did not like Sunny at the beginning. It took  a year before she accepted her in the bedroom and for a short time on the bed with me. After Mooshi was lost after a visit to Analy Veterinarian Hospital in March 2012 and found, Sunny never again tried to sleep on the bed with us. Instead, she made a bed on a chair in the bedroom her turf—small but higher up and safe from Mooshi’s possible attacks!  With Mooshi getting older and weaker she tolerates Sunny more.  In the past year or so I spend quality time with both of them with Mooshi sitting next to me on a pillow on the sofa and Sunny sitting on my lap as I watch a movie.  I pat them both cats and they seem to have a good time. The past month or two, Sunny can even get up and step off the sofa right by Mooshi without getting her to react.

For the first six months of her life in the house Sunny spent all day under blackberry bushes on the other side of Darby Road opposite of the school.  Every night I had to go and lure her back to the house.  At first, it was difficult because I had to catch her and bring her back somewhat against her will.  But, of course, there was a part of her that wanted to be caught and brought home. The fact that Oliver, the neighbor’s dog barked whenever he was present and I was passing by with Sunny in my arms tucked against my chest did not help.  But eventually we got over this.  Sunny began to come back to the house herself.  For another year, each time someone came to the house for visit she ran outside.  She felt more comfortable outside than inside in case of “danger.”  Recently, she has acclimated to the house enough that when they replaced the roof last week she spent most of the day under the bed not outside.  I had to take her out in my arm to get some fresh air!  

Friday nights is the night when I devote time to relax myself.  I spent some time laying on the sofa listing to jazz sometimes with Sunny laying on my belly or legs facing away from me.  I often feel a deep sense of gratitude for finding such wonderful companion behind the blackberry bushes.