Guest
Post by Eric Burkhart, “www.mukhabaratbaby.blogspot.com”
One
cloudless, warm summer day in 2012, I headed out to Lowe’s in
Blanco to pick up some Deer Corn. I have a family of White-Tail Deer
that basically live on my property in the Texas Hill Country, about
an hour north of San Antonio. The permanent members of the family
are female, as once the males get old enough and rut season begins,
they leave. Normally, I see bucks in groups of two, but the ladies
always travel in larger numbers. I have been feeding the same ladies
for over five years now (a combination of Corn and Nutrition
Pellets), and they know me very well. They have absolutely no fear,
and one won’t hesitate to come into the house, if I’m forgetful
enough to leave the door open (I lost a box of Girl Scout Cookies in
about twenty seconds flat, but that’s another story). On my way to
Lowes, I happen to glance to my left in the direction of the Dollar
General store, and in the back, beside the dumpster, I can see a
number of small cats digging around through some left-over garbage.
While picking up my Deer Corn, I decided to by some cat food for
those cats, because they looked hungry. I just can’t handle the
thought of a starving animal. Like most people, I assumed that cats
have no problem living on the wild. I was wrong; I remember the day
that I was reminded that “domesticated means domesticated”,
whether referring to dogs or cats. Domestic Cats are not meant to be
living feral lives.
As
I pulled into the Dollar General Parking Lot, I realized that I would
need to park near the dumpster, which bothers some business owners
who don’t like people dropping off their garbage. When I parked
and got out of my car, the cats took off in all directions. There
must have been seven or eight, and they were fast. Once I opened the
cat food and started pouring it on a conveniently placed folded-up
cardboard box, two of the more courageous (or just hungrier) cats
came right up to me. That’s when it happened. I looked down into
those little, desperate, hungry eyes, and I said to myself, I can’t
bring myself to just forget about these cats. They were surviving,
in a manner of speaking, but it was a life of predators, weather,
hunger and disease. No doubt some of the cats were dumped, and
others were the kittens of cats that were dumped. How does anyone
find the cruelty in their own hearts, to dump an animal in an
unfamiliar place, with no shelter or food? I just don’t get it.
That day, I added a colony of cats to my list of animals that I
intended to feed, right under the White-Tail Deer and the two Foxes
that come around every night.
I
became a familiar face to the staff of the Dollar General. They were
wonderful, and would give me any cat food that had become unsealed
during the transportation from the warehouse. They never minded me
back there by their dumpster, and after the first two or three
visits, the County Sheriffs started just waving to me as well. I
would feed the cats once in the morning and once in the evening, and
a couple times a week I would clean the back lot of garbage, as a
favor to Dollar General. The cats were spoiled. The received a
mixture of dry and wet cat food every day, and not surprisingly, it
wasn’t long before the number of little beasties started to grow.
I had two twin Torties, two Tabbies, two solid back girls, three
orange and white, and a handful more of mixed colors. One of the
smaller cats, that for a while looked like she might not make it, had
really large paws. I became totally infatuated with her and started
calling her Sasquatch because of her bog feet. Well, it turns out
that once she got a bit of meat on her bones, her feet were totally
normal! But the nickname stayed. After a couple months of this
routine (and the assigning of the unwanted nickname, “Crazy Cat
Dude”), I began to notice that Sasquatch was developing an odd
shape. On closer inspection, I noticed that Emerald was even more
oddly shaped. I’m no moron, at least not on even-numbered
weekdays. I realized that some of my kitties were pregnant. The
number of cats was about to double and I had no idea what to do! I
didn’t know what to do, so I called the local County Animal
Control. You can imagine my shock when they informed me that most
County Animal Control Departments in Texas no longer deal with cats.
The number of Felines had gotten way out of control, as had the
number of female Pit Bulls that were being dumped. So they elected
to focus exclusively on dogs, and leave the cats to their own
devices. I found out later that many Animal Control Centers across
the country were having the same problem with female Pit Bulls. The
dogs were always very friendly, and usually not very old. Young men
were buying the females as soon as they reached breeding age. Then
they would be kept caged and pregnant ALL THE TIME, so that by the
time they were three or four, they could no longer have puppies.
Then they got dumped in downtown somewhere. What makes the story
even more horrific, is that the puppies that were born (at least the
males) were being bred to fight. Dog fighting has re-emerged as a
scourge on our society, and unfortunately it is more popular now than
ever before. But that is a subject for another post.
After
having no luck with the state organizations, I decided to call a few
private groups. I hit the jackpot with my first phone call, which
was to the Blanco County Cat Coalition. I spoke to a wonderful lady
named June, who was determined to help me from the start. I
explained that I had a colony of cats, and number of them were
pregnant. June took the time to carefully explain the “Trap,
Neuter, Release” program. The cats are trapped, taken to a vet,
neutered or spayed, given a physical and the full range of shots and
vaccinations, and then released back into the same environment, where
they can be fed and “maintenanced”. Since no cat shelters that I
have seen are dealing with overflow crowds of ideal families to adopt
cats, this is the best solution. The cat will not breed, it will
have its shots, and it will be fed. June explained to me that since
the cats weren’t actually in Blanco County (one mile south), the
decision to address this particular colony would be made by the lady
who does the trapping. June added that they were very lucky, because
they had an amazing woman working with them who really had the hang
of it. She put me in touch with Anastacia, and we met that afternoon
at the Dollar General. She had no problems with the location, thank
goodness, but if she were going to attack this problem, then I needed
to understand a few things up front. “First, we aren’t dealing
with eight or nine cats, but probably fifteen or more. And when I
start the trapping, you CAN’T come out and feed them. You must put
away your worries about the poor hungry cats and let me do my job,
because in order for the cats to go into the trap and get to the
food, the cat needs to be mighty hungry.” That was going to be
tough. The only way that I could agree to that stipulation (even
though it made total sense), was to stay away from the Dollar General
completely, until all the cats were caught.
I
learned so much from Anastacia in such a short time. She taught
about the general nature of cats, and what to expect in particular
circumstances. She really knows her business, and has her heart set
on doing what is right. At this point, with an absolute flood of
unwanted cats and dogs being born in the wild, we have to focus on
the neuter and spay program. I believe that a quick inspection of
Blanco County (and others that are on the ball) will demonstrate that
this program really helps to get the numbers under control. Knowing
this fact didn’t make it any easier to watch my little Sasquatch
looking back at me for food, so I left.
To
be continued.............
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| Sasquatch and Kittens |
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