Last Minute Thankfulness

Though I have much for which to be grateful in my life, I was hoping the Thanksgiving weekend, and the day itself, would not pass by without giving me one extra thing for which to be thankful. Nor did it. At about ten minutes after eight o’clock last night, I successfully trapped Sable.

She is currently in my bathroom, still in the trap; I might not be able to put her into anything portable if she were let out. This morning, she will go to another member of the rescue-group, where she will reside in a large cage, with a carrier inside it as her safe-zone. She will stay there for a couple of weeks until I move. Then she will come to live with me. There is a chance that she will be adoptable, but she has been feral all her life, so just getting her used to living inside with a human will be a chore.

For those who may not be familiar with Sable, I will explain her history. She and her sister, whom I named Sablette, were part of a feral colony in my neighbourhood. Before I arrived at the Cosy Apartment, they had been trapped and spayed, along with the others in the colony. The colony was then dispersed when the near by business was sold and its environment re-arranged. About two and a half years after I moved into the apartment, Sable and Sablette, two black cats whom I was told by older residents were sisters, started showing up outside my concrete ditch. I began feeding them, along with other cats.

The siblings were not regular visitors at first, and they would disappear for extended periods. Later, I would joke that they were visiting their holiday property by the lake. Then they stopped coming for an even longer while, and when I noticed a return, in March of 2020, it was only Sable. I never saw Sablette again.

Sable had been the bolder one of the pair, though now she was more skittish. She nonetheless came to know that food was to be had at Café Cosy, as much food as she could want. She came to know my voice, and would respond to the name I had given her. She remained at least semi-feral - though, to be honest, I don’t know if she may have once had a home, when very young - and never let me come close. But she came to trust me to an extent: if I startled her, not knowing she was present when I walked into or by the ditch, she would run, but stop and wait if I called to her.

I always had a fantasy of capturing her and keeping her inside and secure, but there were always other cats who needed the library as their safe-zone, always other cats to rescue. But once I decided to move, I knew I had to make capturing Sabe a priority. I knew too that it would not be easy. With her intelligence and experience, she would be prove a most exacting opponent.

Yesterday, I posted how difficult she was being. But I also came across a trick on-line that I thought might help. Sable had a habit of going into a trap and picking up food with her claw; to do this, she would stretch as far as she could and reach as far as she could, avoiding stepping on the trip-plate that closed the open trap. If I left a tempting trail toward the main bait, she would be satisfied with taking the trail. I saw something on-line that looked promising.

I inserted a stick width-wise through the mesh of the trap, at a point that was very near the trip-plate, but far enough from it that Sable could not reach the food from the safe-side of it. There would be only the main prize of food, in a dish not on the floor of the trap but suspended on strings, so that it would be clearly visible and, hopefully, tempting (Originally, I thought dishes would be too heavy, and planned to use tin foil. The day was very windy, however, and the foil was not heavy enough to keep from being blown about. The lightest dishes I had served well.) The purpose of the stick was to make her step over it, right onto the trip-plate. Even if she wanted to avoid it - her instincts are very good - she had to put pressure on it to reach the food.

I don’t know if it worked, as I was not watching at the time, and the back third of the trap was covered with a blanket. But the stick was the only difference between this success and previous failures. I came out from the bedroom at one point and saw Sabe in the trap but facing the entrance, which I thought unusual. Then I observed that the door was shut. She was trapped.

Sable was quiet during the night, though periodically I heard a medium-pitched hoot from the bathroom. She did not claw or bite at the steel mesh; she has been calm, and even sniffed my finger. She is not - yet - acting like a feral.

The great anxiety now will be to have her eat. Many times, cats in new environments will refuse food for a dangerous amount of time. A feral used to the great outdoors, confined now in a relatively small space, is in the newest environment imaginable. Some good thoughts directed toward Sabe’s appetite would be appreciated.

I still want to catch Cicero and Arliss, but may not be able to in the time remaining. Both present unique challenges. Sable I wanted to catch most of all. She was known to residents before I arrived at the Cosy Apartment, which makes her at least nine years old, and since she and Sablette had been spayed probably a year priorly, she is likely in her early teens. For her to age and, inevitably, sicken, out in the wild, with no one providing meals or medicine was a most unpleasant thought for me. I hope she will adjust and live out her last years in comfort and safety, and maybe even happiness.

Too Smart For Her Own Good

Operation Creamsicle is not going well. I have not been able to trap any of the three cats I want to take with me when I move. They are proving either evasive or elusive. I have seen Arliss only once in the last two weeks. Cicero ignores the traps completely, not even considering the food inside them. And Sable has used her intelligence and experience to avoid every pitfall.

She’s a smart one, all right. I have watched her enter a trap and eat the food left in a trail for her. If there is food beyond the trip-platform, she will ignore it. I realised this and started leaving food on the far edge of the raised trip-platform; Sable then stretched as far as she could and pulled the food away with her claws. She then backed out of the trap without touching the sides or the top. I’ve watched her go into and out of a trap three times in one instance, taking food with her each time. During other attempts, she will circle the trap, knowing that there is food within but will, ultimately, not go in, suspicious of the set-up.

I have tried all kinds of bait, including regular cat food, Temptation Treats, sardines, cheese, Kentucky Fried Chicken (which has not failed before) and raw beef. I have used traps covered and uncovered. I have re-positioned traps. I have a few more tactics to try, but I am running out of both ideas and time.

Nonetheless, on this Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful for what I have been able to do. I was able to capture Tiffany, for my erstwhile neighbour, and Moxy, for a possible future adoption. I am very grateful for the new home into which I will be moving shortly, and for my new landlord’s welcoming attitude to the cats I will have, and for the reasonable rent. There are too many things for which I am grateful, in fact, to list here. Suffice it to say that, even I don’t trap any outsiders, I will remain thankful for my life, and the opportunities it has given me.

Improvisation Amongst Disorder

The Cosy Apartment is in great disorder as it begins its move to the Cosy Cabin. There are boxes everywhere, all of which take up space. Further space is taken up by the furniture from which the contents of the boxes came, because, of course, I cannot put the boxes or their contents back there.

I think all this disarrangement is bothering me more than the cats. They are coping well. There is still the bed and the couches and an armchair for them to lie on, as well as the floor, both carpeted and bare, which has always appealed to them. Also, the cats are experts at improvisation. Indigo has decided that one of the filled boxes is as good as any other surface for lying on. Besides, it keeps her away from the other beasts, which both parties seem to like.

Less than two weeks until the move…

Moxy's Bad Dream

Yesterday, it was Moxy’s turn.

My new foster-cat went to the veterinary hospital for his check-up. He was displeased at the whole thing. It was a stressful time for him, made a little worse by having to have a few extra tests thrown in. He was given a SNAP test, for feline leukemia, FIV, and other nasty things. He was negative for all.

He is, in fact, in pretty good shape for a cat who was inside/outside for most of his life. He has no ear-mites, likely no worms (I have seen nothing in his feces, but he was given an anti-worm pill, just in case), his weight is good (he’s a naturally big cat) and his coat healthy. He does need a dental procedure. One of his canines is broken (I had noticed that myself) and will have to come out; it is causing him some pain. The surgery will be scheduled soon.

Then, it was back to the Cosy Apartment. Such was his worry that Moxy scratched his claws bloody on the carrier during the trip home. But those are superficial injuries, and he was soon eating, then lying against me, purring, kneading and drifting off to sleep. He probably thinks it was all a bad dream.

One Down

This is Tiffany. The lighting is bad, and she’s not at her best, but it’s Tiffany. She belongs to a former neighbour of mine who, like most of the tenants in my building, has moved to a less expensive rental. Tiffany was an inside/outside cat and wouldn’t come home before her human had to move. But she continued to haunt the building and, when she realised that no one was any longer in her former home, she started coming to my place, knowing that there was food to be had. I added her to the list of cats I needed to trap. I caught her last night. A generous acquaintance drove her soon after to her human. Tiffany quickly joined her perpetually shy sister under the bed. She will be well.

Now, on to the hard-cases…

Neville's Next Chapter

Neville went to the doctor today. He had been off his food for some time, and had been vomiting too much. Even Cerenia was less effective than it usually is. The poor fellow threw up in the carrier during the trip – that had, I suspect, nothing to do with his physical condition – and pooped on the examining table. The Nevsky is not really a brave cat.

The examination went well. Nev has lost a little weight (7.17 kilograms to 6.85) but that was over almost a year. I ordered an extensive – and expensive – array of tests; he had not had much done this year. The results of the fructosamine test, which measures blood-sugar over the previous fortnight, won’t be available for a couple of days. But the blood tests yielded much of interest.

The doctor said that at first glance, Neville appeared in great danger, since almost all indicators were out of their safe-zones. But upon closer examination, it could be seen that he is just over, in almost every case.

His red and white blood cell count made the veterinary “very happy”. The urea is slightly elevated, and while total protein is a little above normal, and might have come from a slight inflammation, this too was “not a worry”. Nev’s blood-glucose today was very high, but that was expected. Cholesterol was up, but that’s typical for a diabetic cat.

It was when the liver came under scrutiny that indications became more significant. The liver was labouring under a very heavy workload, which is not bad in itself, but might be due to “spill over” from the pancreas. That organ’s elevated numbers suggested that it was “irritated”; though pancreatitis is not suspected, it might be a cause of Neville’s vomiting.

What the doctor thinks may be the problem is hyperthyroidism. Though its numbers were barely above normal, the top half of ‘normal’ is regarded as a possible problem in many cats. In other words, being just above normal is actually quite high. Neville may be in the early phases of hyperthyroidism, the symptoms of which also fit diabetes. It can also affect the g.i. tract, food absorption, the rate of food digestion. The most intriguing aspect of this is that if Nev has hyperthyroidism, and it can be brought under control, most of his other troubles will also diminish, including the ineffectiveness of insulin on his diabetes.

I will be collecting some Methimazole tomorrow, and start the Nevsky on his new treatment. After three or four weeks, his T4s will be tested again. If they are back to the safety line, his other ailments may follow suit. There is no certainty to all of this, but it is something viable to try, something that may have a real effect, other than just adjusting insulin levels.

In the meantime, Neville came home, had a good meal, and a well-earned rest. Tomorrow begins his new chapter.

My Adversaries

Operation Creamsicle is working each evening and weekend afternoon. The traps have attracted all four of the cats I am trying to capture (Arliss, Cicero, Sable and my former neighbour’s beast) but have closed on none.

Sable has come the closest to being caught. Lured by the bait of sardines and Temptation Treats, Sable entered the traps thrice, but not far enough to step on the trigger. I watched her each time; she entered, then turned and scurried out, as if warned by instinct not to venture further. It may be experience, a memory of being trapped years ago, after which she was spayed and returned to her feral colony.

Though the bait is good, I may need something still stronger, something to overpower Sable’s caution. I will be buying some catnip tomorrow.

Time – and these animals’ intelligence - is not on my side.