My First Cat Trapping Adventure

The Old Blanco Monastery 2007-2008.

Some of the lower colony cats

Way back in 1984 I was young and foolish, traveling around the country on my Yamaha 650 Maxim. I had left NY the end of October and had made my way down to Texas via Maryland and West Virginia. I had just finished working at the Texas Renaissance Festival, where I had worked for Elizabeth a red haired gypsy, portrait artist and Bill Potter a metal smith. I was working tracing leaves on copper with a fellow named Omar. One night he asked me if I was going to Fr. Sam's for dinner, I hadn't met Fr. Sam as yet, but Omar explained that this priest cooked spaghetti one night a week and anybody was welcome to come. Free food, you bet! That is how and when I met the monks of Christ of the Hills Monastery. Fr. William told me about the monastery and invited me out to visit. At that point in my travels all I needed was a map and I would be there. So after a brief time in Austin I made my way out to the Monastery, January of 1985 and that was the year it snowed, a lot! Traveling by motorcycle down to Texas to spend the winter sounded like a pretty good idea, back in the summer in NY. My first visit to central Texas and the Texas Hill Country was surreal, to say the least. You see, I'm a northern girl by birth, and though I had few pre-conceived ideas of this part of the country, I did expect an ever-present sun. And what was I greeted with when I turned my motorcycle west and headed out of Austin? Snow, lots of snow, I seem to remember more than a foot of snow, and of course it has to be cold to snow. Now just because I am from NY, and conditioned to cold weather, doesn't mean that I am a fan of flurries and accumulation. In fact, I am allergic to the cold, not allergic in that I don't like the cold, but actually allergic to it. Back in Buffalo, when I would go out into the cold my face would swell up, and every 4th of July I would jump into to pool at my Uncles, break out in hives and proceed to go into shock. Doctors seemed to enjoy putting an ice cube on my arm, to show medical students the effects of swelling and iching. This was a very good reason not to spend another winter in NY. I thought I would be safe in Texas. Boy, was I wrong. So my first sensation when arriving in Blanco was shock, literately. I soon learned, that, snow storm not with standing, Blanco is very much a typical small Texas town. Blanco pronounced Blank-O by the locals, was at that time a one traffic light town. (It was not long ago that we lost that status, now have two lights.) There is, of course, a Dairy Queen, a town square with a beautiful old courthouse. The Monastery was located about five miles outside of town on a hill from which you could see for miles.
I had planned a visit to the Monastery then was going to head down to South Padre Island. Thankfully the monks talked me out of it and allowed me to stay at the Monastery. The main complex was at the top of a hill where they had a trailer that was a kitchen with an addition of a dining area, they also had a trailer that served as a chapel, office and restroom. They where in the process of building a church. At first they let to stay in one of the guest rooms that were just down the hill. As time went on they allowed me to move into a hermitage that was located around the back side of the hill. This is where the cats come into the story. They had cats, lots of cats. They also had dogs, a few Chows and one Great Pyrenees (Anastasia). Every night Anastasia would walk me home, we would always be joined by a few cats. I remember one I called Gato Blanco. White of course, with pink ears that always looked sore and scaly. I am guessing a condition that came from inbreeding. Interestedly enough different cats would adopt certain people to walk home. Some of the cats were tame and some where feral. The story I was told is that they all started from one cat that had hitched a ride to the Monastery under the seat of a car, her name was Mouser. She was a pretty little orange tabby who had many litters of kittens before the monks finally got her fixed. That was the first time I had come across what I would now call a colony of cats.
Fast forward twenty-one years, I had gotten married (at the Monastery), moved to Western NY, had two kids, moved back to Texas, divorced. The monks had gotten themselves into trouble, and the Monastery was closed down. The cats were still there, except now there was two colonies of cats. A friend from the Blanco County Cat Coalition had taken on the feeding of the cats. But very few of them had been fixed. With the death of Fr. Sam I felt I was able to go back out to the Monastery (we had had a falling out years before) I had always wanted to get all the cats fixed but there never had been a way to do that. Now with the financial help of the Cat Coalition, using the few traps that they had and borrowing traps from the group in Fredricksburg. I was able to start trapping. I found a vet in Fredricksberg that was willing to give the Coalition a discount. I would trap four or five cats and haul them to Fredricksburg for surgery. Then go out trapping again sometimes catching cats that had all ready been done. The lower colony was fed between on porches between two trailer homes. One of which Fr. Sam had just died in several months before. The upper colony was being fed in an unfinished rock church in the cemetery at the top of the hill. I spent many a spooky evening hour trapping cats and contemplating death. I found it ironic that after the Monastery was closed down, only the cats remained. The matriarch of the group was a female we called the Abbess. Ironic in that Fr. Sam really didn't much like the cats nor did he like females much, preferring men, which eventuality led him into trouble. Now the Monastery was being run by a fuzzy little girl that ruled with an iron paw. One of the funniest things I saw there was when Big Daddy, the biggest cat I had ever seen, tried to sneak up to share the food bowl with the little Abbess. She bopped him a good one! Nobody eats with the Queen unless she has invited them! She had her “court” a few of the other females that were probably had been her kittens or litter mates. Then there was the littlest cat, he was the last one to be trapped, because he was the smallest and so was always the last to eat. I named him Tippy because the tip of his tail always seemed to be twitching. He lives with me now, I just couldn't bear to release him back out with all the big kitties. He is the oldest of my kitties, the first one of my “souvenir” kitties. He is a souvenir of my first cat trapping adventure.
He is semi-feral who allows me to pet him once in awhile. He has learned to enjoy the comforts of the wood stove, sneaking in through the kitty door after I go to bed at night.
After months of trapping I was finally able to “fix” all the cats. Yeah, no more suffering kittens. Finally after more than twenty years the cat situation at the old Blanco Monastery was under control. The End

Big Daddy and Friends

How Rosie and Rascal Came Into My Life

 



All Grown up

 I have already introduced Rascal in a previous blog post. Now I would like to tell the tale of how Rosie and Rascal came into my life. It was spring of 2011. One day sitting at the local Dairy Queen, as was my habit I would ask almost anyone I ran into if they knew anybody that needed help getting cats fixed. I was told that there was a lady up on Old Kendalia Rd. that had a lot of cats. So, I made it a point to drive out there and start looking for the house. The first place I went to was a stable and training arena for racing horses. I didn't see any cats around there, but I did see some beautiful horses. I was told that there were no cats here, but at the house next door there were a lot of cats. I proceeded to the next gate. It was a long driveway that kinda wound about up a slight hill. As I neared the house I saw cats scatter in all directions. I parked my car and said a prayer that my intentions would be well received. As I walked along the side of the house towards the door I saw further signs that someone was caring for a lot of cats, food and water bowls and off in the distance more cats heading for the hills. I knocked on the door and when Ms. B. answered I introduced myself. Saying that I worked with the Blanco County Cat Coalition and that I had heard that maybe she needed some help getting some of her cats fixed. One of the first things she asked was who had turned her in! I told her that I had just heard that maybe she needed a bit of help. It is funny the reaction some people have when they have a lot of cats. It is almost like admitting you have a drinking problem or some sort of perversion. The reality that I find is that most people that have a lot of cats only do so because they didn't know how to get the situation under control. This lady had such a situation. As she showed me around her place I was amazed at how many cats she had. She had porch cats, garage cats, hay barn cats, horse barn cat, greenhouse cats and yes even a few house cats. She fed them all! They were spread out all over the place. She showed me all the different places she fed them. I was truly amazed I had never seen so many cats. When we drove by one of the barns I saw kittens dashing away and hiding. Ms. B. agreed to allow me to start with getting ten cats fixed and that she would donate $350 to help cover the cost. I was happy to have been able to get a foot in the door and confident that after some trust was established that I would be able to continue with the project.

 

Unfortunately kitten season had already started. Now, in an ideal world, part of the definition of T-N-R is that tame cats and kittens young enough to be socialized are pulled out of the colony and are adopted. Also sick cats are either treated or euthanized. In this case Ms. B. had some pretty sick kitties. I don't like to euthanize unless the case is truly hopeless, but having to take into consideration that these cats are feral. So if and when the cat gets sick there will be no way to treat and/or humanely put out of misery. Then there is the question of releasing a sick cat that could spread disease to the other cats. I don't worry about that as much as my rational is that the cats have been living together anyways, so all the other cats have already been exposed. Plus things like FIV (kitty aids) and Felv (kitty leukemia) are spread by fighting and mating which cats don't do so much after they are fixed. I contacted Wildlife Rescue and Rehabilitation (WRR) in Kendalia, TX about the sick kitties. I had worked with them before with a few cats that needed help. They have been pretty wonderful regarding cats that need medical attention as long as the cats are only there temporarily. Ms. B. agreed give donations to WRR if they would be willing to help with the sick kitties. I seem to remember three to five cats that went there. I also contacted the Austin Humane Society (AHS) to see if they would be able to help adopt out the kittens. Ms B. had given me permission to do that. It was also discussed that maybe we should get a group together and try to do a mass trapping. Ms. B being a private person wasn't too keen on that idea. I can't say that I blame her, I wouldn't like a bunch of strangers on my property. I estimated that she had about one hundred cats and at least thirty kittens. AHS agreed to take the kittens. I was excited that they were willing to help me out in this situation. One problem we have fostering cats and kittens, here in Blanco County is that we don't have a good way to find them forever homes. There is no shelter in the county. Also we don't have any medical support and it is inevitable that medical support is going to be needed. Next, I had to go to the Cat Coalition to get approval to spend the money on surrender fees it costs $ 25 to surrender a kitten and $75 for a cat. I knew that I probably would be able to cut a deal with AHS considering the situation but never-less I wanted permission to spend at least one thousand dollars on this project. Unfortunately at this time in the Coalition there was one woman that seemed to have a negative knee jerk reaction to any idea that I had. I have unpleasant memories of trying to convince the group to spend money on these cats. It wasn't that we didn't have the money, we did. It seemed that some of the ladies thought that I wanted the money for myself, because when the spending was finally approved, the main opponent said “well write Stacy the check”. No, I did not want a check to me, all I wanted was permission to give money to AHS for surrender fees! Also some did not want to spend the money, because “there will just be more kittens next year.” Not if I could help it! It seems that several people including Mr B. that did not think I could catch all the cats! Ha, that only made me more determined to do so! Finally I got approval to spend some money.

Yeah for AHS! I was going to have fun pulling out the kittens cleaning them up, socializing them and then turning them over to AHS to find homes! I seem to remember pulling out eight or maybe it was eleven kittens the first batch. I think I took five in Austin to be surrendered. What a heart break it was when I got the phone call telling me that one of the kittens tested positive for feline leukemia and that they would not be able to take any of the kittens from that colony. What was I going to do now? I already had a bunch of kittens in my house. What was I going to do with them? Some of them I was able to return to Ms. B. she was willing to keep them close to the house, so if and when they got sick she would be able to take them to the vet. Then they started getting sick. I think I buried eight kittens that year, several of which died in my hands. Such a sad, sad situation. Meanwhile most of the adult sick kitties that had gone to WRR had to be euthanized. I learned a lot from that experience: 1. Sometimes it is more merciful to euthanize rather than try to cure. 2. That in the real world: Trap the cats and get them fixed before kitten season starts, I have learned that once kittens hit the ground, at least in my world, it is better to wait twelve weeks and then trap the kittens that have survived. It is a harsh world out there!

Now how I found Rosie and Rascal. The first time I saw them they were in a nest tucked between bales of hay in Ms. B's. hay barn. There were four tiny little kittens. Two were solid white and two were orange and white, one of which had a white face. Knowing that baby kittens like that do best when Mama cat takes care of them I determined to leave them nestled in the hay. I would check on them periodically. The next time I checked on them fire ants had moved in and I decided to pull the babies out. They were so tiny and helpless, but spunky, one of them even hissed at me (probably the one that grew up to be Rascal). So small they needed to be bottle fed. The two orange and white ones died but the two white ones were full of life. When they got big enough to eat solid food I put them in my bathroom with a window in the door way so they could see out but not get out. I wish I had a video of how they would launch themselves onto the glass then kinda flatten themselves out as as they slid down the glass with their bellies against it. They were hard to tell apart, Rosie's eyes were a bit rounder. Rascal's eyes always looked a little more pink around the edges.

Rosie and Rascal are my reward for the two years previous of heartbreak that I experienced dealing with kitties. The year before I had fostered Squeaker and Toby my two leukemia babies that I had to have put down before they were even a year old. And the year before that I had kept BG and Jerry the two kitties that are infected with the herpes virus. Now it was 2011 I had just buried a bunch of heartbreaking kittens and was left with the two survivors who happened to be two healthy beautiful white kittens with striking blue eyes. That year they became my traveling kitties. Every year come June, I travel up to NY state to work at a Renaissance Festival. In past years I have left my foster kittens home with friends, but this time I did not want to leave these babies behind. So they were the first of my cats to go traveling with me. They were still quite small so they were easy to travel with. They both fit into a small carrier where they would curl up and sleep together all day. I bought them each a harness, red for Rosie and blue for Rascal. Even though they are litter mates they each have had their own distinct personalities. Rascal is a rascal, he is high strung and likes to start trouble, he is more active and adventurous. Rosie is mellow, she doesn't really like Rascal much, as he likes to pick on her, so any time he comes to close she growls at him. He doesn't really mean any harm he just like to play rough. Rosie likes people, she likes to be admired, not really a princess more like a queen. She is not as athletic as Rascal perfering lounging around rather than jumping though hoops which Rascal is willing to do. Rosie would rather step though the hoop than jump though it. We had many adventures in NY.

The next year I decided to only take one cat because while I am in NY I reside in a very small booth and taking to full grown cats seemed like it would be to much. I took them both for a test drive, Rascal got very upset and Rosie took it in stride. So Rascal stayed home with the rest of the cats under the care of a neighbor and Rosie made the second trip to NY were she charmed everyone she met. They are both beautiful cats and I am very happy that they are in my life.

A post script to the story; I did succeed in trapping every cat in Ms. B's colony. It took a lot of doing, hiding behind hay bales and sitting patiently for hours upon hours. I am pleased and proud to say that there hasn't been any new kittens born there going on four seasons. The cats that have been TNR'd are all fat and happy. No more mating and struggling to stay alive. TNR works, but you have to be determined to make it work.



Rosie in the far left and Rascal center



Cabin at Grandpa's House

Ready to roll

 

Walk in the Woods









Cat Returns From the Dead or The Case of Mistaken Identity

Recently in national news there has been a story of a cat that had died, was buried and dug his way out of his grave. Well here in Blanco County, TX I was told a similar story. The following tale is based loosely upon the truth as told to me by Megan.

Once upon a time a young couple had a cat. This cat was very special to them as it was their first pet together. They named the cat Shelby and they all lived happily together in their very first apartment. Shelby was a rescue cat, that had been found outside lost and scared. Since she had moved in with Megan and Tim, she had shown absolutely no desire to go back outside. For instance when her people had the door open to carry in groceries the cat would only supervise from the safety of the living room.

Then one night somehow the patio door was left open and when the couple woke up Shelby was gone!

The couple frantically looked and called for her, finally giving up only when it was time to go to work. They left some food out on the patio, hoping Shelby would come back on her own. Later that day they continued the search, asking everyone they met it if they had seen Shelby. Finally some folks gave them the bad news that they had seen a cat dead on the road that looked like Shelby. Tim went and looked, he assured Megan that Shelby hadn't suffered, that she had been hit on the head and that it had been a quick death. He then brought the body home and buried it. Days passed and they both mourned, but life tends to go on, bills to be paid and jobs to go to. Then one day Megan got a phone call from the local vet saying that a lady called and they think they had found Shelby. “That couldn't be, Shelby was dead and buried.” Silence, either knew what to say next. Then the caller asked if Shelby had been a torby (markings like a tortoise shell and a tabby) and had been kinda overweight. “Yes.” Well they had the phone number of a lady that had a cat that looked like Shelby. Tim was sent over to the lady's house, while Megan stayed home afraid to hope. I can just imagine how she felt. Losing a beloved animal, grieving for days, then could it be possible? No, couldn't be, Shelby was dead and buried, but what if? The suspense must have been terrible. If the cat was indeed Shelby, then who was buried in the backyard? And if the cat was not Shelby, then who's cat was she?

Tim later admitted that the animal he had buried seemed a little to heavy and a little to long to have been Shelby. Poor guy, I can just imagine the questions Megan must have had for him. Hopefully she was so happy to have Shelby back that she wasn't too hard on Tim.

Shelby is back at home, having spent a few days visiting the neighbors. Whoever is buried in the backyard will forever remain a mystery.

Epilogue; I am very happy that Shelby is back home, but sad for the cat that had been hit by the car. Please spay and neuter your pets and any feral cats you might be feeding. Also, micro-chipping your pets is a good thing. Please share this story.