Feral Cat Day… My Story, Mr. M

Dear Furiends,

My staff considers August the 14th, 2014 to be my official gotcha day but I celebrate February, 2009 when I actually got my first taste of chicken. The discrepancy is due to the fact that I was living wild under the house when those, who would become my staff, moved in. Mistress Munchkin spotted me on February 11th and decided I would become her furiend. She is a purrsistent human and it took her years of laying on the ground outside the crawlspace with chicken to lure me out. (She always left the treat.)

I eventually moved  into a box the porch, but I still would not let anyone pick me up and was terrified about going inside. However, Ms. Munchkin and the rest of my staff are purrsistent, so I eventually started climbing in laps and, when I discovered how comfy those were, I became a snuggle bug.

Eventually, new renters moved in across the street and they hated cats. Worse, their evil dog barked at cats. So, they started catching all ferals and turning them in to be euthanized. (You can read Flufy’s report on them here.)

I rarely ever left the porch, but those evil renters put out cages to catch ferals and they caught me.  Worse, they left me in the rain for days, so I got very sick. I’d been missing from the porch since Friday night, and my staff were very worried. They finally found me and claimed ownership by showing photos of me in my box on the porch and/or in laps.

Let’s be honest, I owned myself, they did not own me, but I realize they claimed ownership for the right reason, and they officially adopting me, which saved my life. 

The downside was that as soon as they got me back to the house, I got trapped inside and was not allowed out. I admit that I was quite ill and was on antibiotics for a long time. My staff spent months getting me as healthy as possible. The adjustment from being a free porch cat to a trapped house cat was very difficult, not just for me, but for all of us. For one thing, I don’t meow. Being mute is not unusual for a feral cat, but it can be downright inconvenient for a house cat. As many of you know, I’m very fond of boxes, so the staff had a lot of problems because they were not used to pets hiding in everything (and sometimes getting stuck). Having grown up feral and  “mute” it never occurred me  to cry for help, so the staff spent many hours hunting for me because they were afraid I’d gotten stuck, again.

I’ve finally adjusted to being a house cat, though that did not happen until after the long move to Florida. I don’t even mind riding in the car. In fact, I purrfer this indoor spoiled life. The staff no longer feels it’s necessary to keep me hostage inside, and I occasionally go into the back yard to play, but I always come back to the door with Saphera… unlike Purrseidon, who wants to see the World.  

BTW, Purrseidon was born feral, too, but she became a house cat when she was 4 weeks old, so she really doesn’t have a clue how difficult life can be.

Mr. M =^.^=