WANTED: Experienced cat owner in between pets, or maybe with one but no more, to take on the challenge of socializing a stray-feral cat. I have befriended him at the expense of my other pets, all of whom are "special needs" as they say: blind, elderly, infirm. Our new friend was badly injured when he came to us and is now on the mend. But his social skills need work. He is fearful and combative one minute, sweet the next. But he will, with a few week's patience, make a nice companion for the right person. Here's the story: The Black Cat. We've taken to calling him BC. He's medium bushy with Simple Green eyes. BC has been a fixture in the neighborhood for years. Everybody knows him, and his range has extended along more than a half a mile of our road. When he'd visit our house, he'd sneak in through the back door to snatch a bite from our cats' food table. If one of us saw him, or he saw us, he'd blast away in a blur so fast you'd question whether he was ever really there at all. At one point, he disappeared for months. I figured he was a goner, He returned two weeks ago, mangled and filthy, a gash in his throat, lame front paw and scrawny. I fed him. He remained aloof at first, but in time, grew to trust me. Within a week, the cat that nobody could catch or touch or even see clearly was letting me scratch his head. This is a cat that was a stray turned feral, not born feral. One fateful day, I grabbed him up, plopped him into a carrier and ferried him to the vet for a "day at the spaw," a snip (of his kitty gonads), a cleaning and disinfection of his wounds. He immediately peed in the carrier for fear, so the half-hour ride to town was aromatic.
"Whoa! Un-neutered male cat there!" said Alison, the receptionist at the clinic, when we walked through the door.
He's been back for several days now, getting friendlier with me but still terrorizing the rest of the family. It's obvious his roaming days are over and he's chosen to stay put. I just wish he'd stay put someplace else.
My neighbor, who knows him and whose house he once frequented, offered to help. So yesterday, I took him there. Fresh tuna at the ready, we released him inside, only for him to literally climb the walls in a panic and try to jump through a picture frame. We'd have done it in a room, but she doesn't have any with doors. (It's a Puna-syle house.) So before he destroyed her place and hurt himself, we opened the door. He's familiar with her porch, we reasoned, since she used to leave food out for him whenever she'd see him. He looked around, realized where he was, then made his way under the house, then under her car.
"He used to sleep under there," she said. "Maybe he'll stay." When I got home, he was sitting on my back lanai with a look that asked the obvious question, "What took you so long?"
We are not set up as an all-indoor cat household. Our house is well back from the road and the cats stay close. The house is tiny. They all come and go, in and out, freely, including him, which makes policing his rogue ways difficult.
I remain armed with a squirt bottle and not afraid to use it, the best training tool for cats ever. That said, I was serious when I presented my original challenge. Hawaii would be best, and this island best of all, but I'll pay for plane fare and tranquilizers. I'll also take him in for a thorough exam at the vet, complete with vaccinations for anyone serious about working with this cat. It won't be easy, but it will be rewarding. I'll bet that in a week, he'll let you pet him. In two weeks, he'll be following you around the house.
Come on, cat lovers. Look at that face. Look at that pathetic, shaved throat. Check out those cool eyes.
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