The Stray Cat Saga

I don't like cats. I am allergic to cats. My eyes swell up, water, itch, and my nose runs. I sneeze. I just don't like cats, okay?

I don't remember exactly when the stray cat showed up on our porch. It was sometime during the summer, I think. But I do remember I wasn't too happy about it. One evening, Sean whispered from the front door "come here--quick!" and to my happy surprise, the cat was in the front yard playing (aka torturing) a mouse. At that moment, I made a decision. I like this cat. She stays. The kids named her Midnight Boa, and that was that.

I soon noticed her belly getting larger, and larger, and larger. Great. Kittens. Now what? She's technically a stray, so the kittens aren't ours, right? Or are they? If she has them on our porch and they are always there, then they have adopted us. So they really are ours. All this was circling in my head.

Besides, it was mid-October, starting to get cold outside, and this animal was with child. Or kitten. Whatever. Species didn't matter anymore. My maternal instincts kicked in. Regardless of how I felt about cats, I connected with this expectant mother. I mean, how would I feel if I were pregnant, cold, and living on someone's porch? I decided that even though she couldn't come inside the house, I'd make things comfortable for her. I started to talk nicely to her, and give her water and food, and yes, even touch her. Poor thing.

When we left for our fall break vacation to St. George, I was sure she'd have the kittens alone in the cold while we were gone. When we came back, she was still big as ever, but a couple of days later she looked back to her normal size. I waited for several days for the kittens to come out of hiding, and I even looked around the yard, but there was no sign of them. After a while, I figured nature "took its course" in one way or another. Oh well, it's probably for the best. What would we have done with kittens on our porch? Problem solved thanks to the natural course of life. The kittens were forgotten. Life went on.

Yesterday, Davis found a surprise on our front porch. Two black and white kittens were curled up behind our milk box and were trying to get warm. And they were so cute...and tiny...and cute! I reached down and picked one up. It thrashed in my hands and scratched like crazy--and it hurt! I dropped it out of mostly surprise and a little pain, and it ran away.

Well. One very mean kitten gone--one very cute kitten left huddled behind the milk box. It had to be nicer than that first one, right? Hello?!? Feral kitten alert! No matter. Being the rocket scientist I am, I picked it up. This one was meaner than the first one! It thrashed, scratched, and flailed in my hand. I decided I'd let it know I'm nice, so I tried to talk to it and look at it in a kind way. That's when it looked me square in the eyes and hissed at me. I think it may have been posessed, so I dropped it and it ran off to find its little kitten sibling.

This is the one that hissed at me. It looks harmess enough, right? Well, I've since called the vet for advice. Here's what it boils down to. Animal control won't come get the cats because they've been here too long. I guess techincally they are ours. The animal shelter is full. Their future is in our hands. I don't like cats, but I am still a humane person. Dropping them off in another neighborhood is out of the question. We can tame them and try to give them away or we can keep them. If we keep them, we are looking at rabies and distemper shots and spaying/neutering for 3 cats. Did I mention I don't like cats? I don't want to pay money for 3 wild animals who turned my porch into their home.

In the meantime, I'm sure they'll continue to live in our bushes or on our porch and eat the el cheapo cat food I've been picking up from WalMart, and I'm sure they'll cause all sorts of mischief in the neighborhood for which I'll feel responsible.


But aren't they cute?

**Photos courtesy of Davis