The Great Outdoor Cat Dilemma

Early last summer, a cat and a kitten suddenly appeared on my patio one night while I was eating dinner.  Initially they kept their distance but wouldn't leave.  My half hearted attempts to ignore them failed.  They were thin and starving and apparently the word on the street is I'm a soft touch.  So I broke the cardinal rule of stray cat retention and started feeding them.  Handfuls of dog kibble (all I had) left on my wall quickly vanished.  In a moment of madness I broke down and bought a couple of cans of cat food.  When I approached them with it on a plate, the mother literally jumped into my arms and began purring loudly.  These were not stray or feral cats-somebody had dumped them.  Cats rarely have litters of one and to this day I try not to think about what might have happened to the rest of the kittens.

Mama kitty was a pretty tortoiseshell and probably not much older than a kitten herself

Years ago I had cats but I've been a dog person for over 20 years and was not looking to add a cat to the family.  I called a couple of rescue groups who told me they had no room.  One even told me if the kitten was older than three months he (a quick internet search provided enough information for me to determine junior actually was a "he") was probably not adoptable.  Really?  How sad.  I was involved in miniature schnauzer rescue for many years and never encountered a shortage of homes for young adoptable dogs.

A week or so went by.  The top of my hot tub had become one big cat bed.  I spoke with the town Animal Control Officer (my town doesn't impound cats) and started putting the word out to my friends and co-workers that I had a couple of cats up for grabs if anyone was interested.

Junior appeared too old to be nursing but it was probably his only food source.

Napping on my hot tub

A few people feigned interest but at the end of the day the cats were still here.  On the morning I stepped outside and came face to face with the biggest tom cat I had ever seen I immediately called my vet and scheduled an appointment to get mama kitty spayed.  I had visions of a plethora of unwanted cats lounging all over my garden.  Throughout the neighborhood I would no longer be known just as that crazy garden woman but as that crazy cat woman with the garden.

When I dropped mama off at the vet I let the vet assistants know she was a stray and asked if they knew of anyone who might want a nice cat.  Needless to say I wasn't hopeful.  So imagine my surprise when they called me the next day to tell me one of their long time clients who had just lost her 19 year old cat was currently involved in a "meet and greet" with mama in one of the examining rooms. 

Everyone at the vet's office was so impressed by mama's affectionate nature.  They asked if I would allow the woman to take her home for the weekend to see how it worked out?  Mind?  Tell her about the handsome, affectionate son too!  The following Monday I went to pay the bill for a cat that was no longer mine.  To console myself as I forked over $400 I thought about the hundreds, maybe thousands of unwanted cats I had prevented from entering the world...and all the things I could have done with and extra $400.

One down, one to go.  Hmmmm...what to do about Junior?



Even a non cat person would have to admit this was one good looking cat.  Not only did he have looks on his side but he had a personality to match.  Once his mother was out of the picture he immediately warmed up to me.  When it came time for his trip to the vet, I offered up the same deal and crossed my fingers.  Much to my dismay, when I went to settle the bill, after plunking down another three hundred bucks I was handed a my cat back.  Now what was I going to do?

Let me at 'em!

Nick, as expected, was not warming up to him.  Terriers generally look upon cats as sources of entertainment to be barked at and chased.  And in Nick's defense, he had spent eleven years blissfully ignorant of life with a cat.  Fortunately the cat was athletic and had no problem zipping up and shimmying down trees.

"Let me in!"

"Let me in!"

As the days grew shorter and colder I had to come up with a strategy to winter over a cat.  Unlike my tropical plants, being stashed dormant in the basement just wasn't going to cut it.

Although he was comfortable sleeping just about anywhere outside, I knew his makeshift bed in the garage wouldn't suffice for nights in the dead of winter.  My first challenge though was to get Nick to allow him into the house.  After giving the situation some thought, I hatched a plan to desensitize the dog in hopes that he would stop barking, snarling and hurling himself at the door.  Maybe then the cat would lose some of his fear.  I started by opening the door a crack and letting them get nose to nose.  After a month or two my plan appeared to be working so I finally just held my breath, opened the door and let the cat in.  Much to my surprise, the plan worked!

"Now you listen to me, you good for nothing fleabag..."

Since I'm still not interested and giving a cat the run of my house-especially when I'm sleeping or not home, I transformed what was previously a basment room "man cave" into a luxurious "kitty room" complete with litter box, kitty gym and full complement of kitty toys.

A well appointed kitty room would not be complete without a kitty gym.

Lounging in the sun on a winter day.

Since he didn't appear to be going anywhere soon, I figured he needed a name.  Introducing The Twerpster (aka The Twerpinator)

Can't find the Twerpster?  Check my bed.

Now on to the dilemma.  For a variety of reasons outdoor cats have a much shorter life expectancy than their indoor counterparts.  Given that this cat had no other options and appears happy and healthy on patrol in his kingdom, I'm OK with that risk.  From what I can tell by looking at cat rescue sites, far too many homeless cats are being warehoused in cages in no kill shelters.

During the winter before he arrived mice sprung traps located in my house and grill 21 times and I still had to listen to the pitter patter of their little rodent feet in my ceilings every night.  Voles killed two specimen Japanese maples and disfigured many other shrubs in my garden.  Sections of my bluestone walkways were sinking due to the tunneling of chipmunks, and rabbits were launching nightly raids that left shrubs, trees and perennials decimated.  To say I'd had it with rodents would be an understatement.

I no longer have any of these problems.  Mice have not lived in my ceiling in over a year.  For the first time in years I have Heucheras instead of nubs.  Echinaceas and Rudbekias are actually blooming without having to be constantly sprayed.  Chipmunks and voles are virtually non existent.  Yes, he also kills birds and no, I'm not OK with that.  From the get go I maintained a position that if I could find a home for him that was better than mine, I'd let him go but despite my best effort that home never materialized.  So for the forseeable future I appear to be owned by a cat.

 

Dear Zak...

Twenty years ago today I brought you home.

You posessed a magical combination of personality and character. Although your loss was devastating, in your eight short years of life you gifted with me indescribable joy.  So much time has passed.  Long ago the tears turned to smiles.  I still think about you often-especially today.

Maran's Major Zak

April 11, 1992-April 19, 2000



Four Legged Wellness

Last week Nick visited his holistic vet for a semi monthly acupuncture and chiropractic treatment.  As a younger dog, Nick was exuberantly athletic.  Stairs were meant to be taken at full tilt, the last two or three meant to be skipped.  As a puppy he would ignore the three steps to the yard altogether and just sail off the screen porch onto the grass.  No bed was too high.  No walk was too long.  One time I even caught him walking around on the kitchen counter.  And like so many athletes before him, every so often he would injure his back (I know his pain).  Usually after a day or two of limited activity and some baby aspirin he would be back to his usual tricks.  A few times he required a trip to the vet and prescription medication.

A little over a year ago I noticed Nick seemed to be losing strength in his hind end.  He was reluctant to go up or down the stairs and sometimes had to be carried.  He stopped jumping on the bed.  At a few months shy of eleven, he certainly wasn't a spring chicken but otherwise he was in fantastic shape and still enjoyed patrolling his yard and taking long walks.  I hated to think he might become disabled or prematurely limited in any way.

I had heard about veterinary chiropractic and decided to do some research.  My search led me to Dr. Amy Matthews at Frontier Medicine, a holistic veterinary practice located in East Granby, CT.  Dr. Amy and her staff are calm, caring and knowledgeable.  Even I relax in that office.  Since Nick has begun receiving regular treatments of accupuncture and chiropractic he seems to have regained some strength in his back legs.  Occasionally I even find him asleep in my bed on the second floor after leaving him on the first floor-not at all unusual when he was younger but almost unheard of now.  Nick and I highly recommend Dr. Amy to anyone looking for a non traditional solution to treat a chronic or elusive veterinary problem. 

Goodbye To An Old Friend

In 2001, Nick and I traveled to Oregon and Washington to attend the annual Portland Miniature Schnauzer Club Schnauzer Walk.  For many years I had been participating in the now defunct Hoflin schnauzer e-mail list.  In 2000 when Nick was a puppy we joined an off-shoot of that list creatively named "The Puppy Group".  The group included a handful of people from all over the country (but mostly from the west coast) who had recently acquired new miniature schnauzer puppies and wanted to chat about them and share experiences.  When the opportunity for Nick and I to attend the Schnauzer Walk and meet some of my new friends came about I jumped at the chance.

At the walk, Nick received an award for the schnauzer who had traveled the furthest but as luck would have it, we missed the whole event,  Due to a nightmare of airline travel snafus we were forced to spend a night in Chicago and the following morning in San Jose before finally landing in Portland.  After visiting with a puppy group friend in Portland we traveled to a beautiful island in south Puget Sound.  CL, our host had invited us to spend the remainder of the week at her vacation home on the island.  CL was "mom" to Midnight, one of Nick's puppy group classmates.

Midnight and Nick hit it off immediately.  For the remainder of the week we relaxed, hung out, went boating...

 
...and frolicked on a beach in the shadow of Mt. Rainier joined by Midnight's friend, Misty (also an alumni of the puppy group).  Although I haven't seen my west coast friends in many years, we have kept in touch.  A few days ago when CL was proudly posting pictures of her son's graduation from college, I thought about this trip and how much fun it had been.  Nick turned twelve last week-older than CL's son had been when I visited.  Where had the time gone?  How could it be that our puppies were now considered seniors?

Last night I received a message from CL that Midnight had to be helped to the bridge.  Although this news saddens me on many levels and has flooded my mind with memories and thoughts, I'm struggling to put any of it to words.  Sometimes words just aren't sufficient. 

R.I.P. Midnight you handsome boy.  Happy trails.

Happy Birthday to my Main Man!

Were you actually expecting to see a human face here?  Happy Birthday to my Nickster, mommie's bestest boy!  Twelve years old today.  How time flys.

It's a Cat's Life

I'm convinced there are far worse things you can be than a cat.  Lots of accomplishments today but bed beckons so I will update tomorrow.