Years ago when my two youngest were maybe 7 and 8, we used to
drive 20 minutes down the road every few days to Leverett, where this old
farmer lived in a rambling white cape, a big worn red barn out back that was
rife with sick, breeding farm-turned-ferals cats .
I would cook up the same food I made my own dogs and cats, meat and (in those days) oats and then lots of medicinal herbal tinctures and
nutritional yeast, all cooked in steamed vegetable water, to slowly treat their
eye infections and chest infections and foot infections and have them have some
food. I would leave out water, as the water for them was a small pond maybe ¼
of a mile away, too far for many of the young ones.
I went to the farmer's door one day in the beginning, asking her permission , and she
glanced at me sideways, my kids kinda hiding-beneath-my-skirts, and nodded a sort of
‘Why not” , as in, "Who the hell are you
but far be it for me"…that kind
of look.
So I did and we did, and now and then when a new litter
arrived, in betwixt the cats losing eyes from infection and all, I would sidle
up to those tiny ones, lure them with the food, then GRAB their small wild
bodies, and toss them in a cat carrier, to lug on home.
Once I managed to grab an older young one, blue eyes (some at
one time were Siamese) with thick butterscotch stripes, and pop them into the
cat carrier before they knew what hit them. It was a mistake, is all I’ll say. My own. They were too old, and so
scared. The older of my two kids there got into the car, all of 8, and for some reason opened the
carrier, so then we had a freaking out 8 year old with a completely traumatized
young feline racing about the car, crying, frantic. Oh my. I slipped into the
car, and at one juncture, with the 7 year old outside looking in, managed to
grab the poor young cat, and with many ripped up arms, get them back into the
carrier.
Later, I put him in one of the bunny cages outside under the trees. We
had four huge rabbit cages, divided into two separate cages,8 feet long, each about 4 feet wide, with a small
house at the end, doors on each end, so they could run and see the other 8
bunnies, and be warm in winter when I wrapped them all up in plastic. But one
day my sweet kid went out again, called by this elegant creature, opened the
door to say hello to the wild one, and off he went. Still today with my prayers and
regret.
Once we brought home two or three small grey creatures, maybe
5 weeks old, because they won’t come to you any later…so it’s then or never. My 8 year old had a
beloved cat, fixed, who took each of them by the scruff of the neck, and put them in a
sleeping bag she chose, tossed on some floor upstairs, pushed them in, lay down to nurse
them until her small teats were sore, and growled whenever we came near.
Eventually she mothered them into 8 or 9 weeks, strong and healthy and easy
going, and we found homes for them quick as you could say ‘beautiful feral
kitten’.
Later on when my kids were all a bit older and at horseback
riding lessons nearby, I went on over to devlier some food and water, and up on a golf
cart comes the bent over farmer, a huge load of Jerusalem Artichokes filling a barrel
in the back of the cart, all dug and scrubbed squeaky clean.
Lobbed one at me
with a smile. I bit in, thanked her, and took off down the road.
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