Part 3 of 3 of the true story of a wild (feral) cat colony over a 3-year time period. My observations and involvement.
Read Part One here and Part Two here.
On April 26, 2024, Mama Pal brought three exactly eight-week-old kittens to the “Nursery” where she grew up as a kitten. All three were nearly twice the size of Muffin and Mini had been at that age!
I named the huge yellow and white tiger-striped one Fearless. The two slightly smaller black-and-white semi-striped tabbies became Brownie and Trouble. Fearless angrily swatted Brownie and Trouble at the food plate and still does at 11 months old. Fearless is a boy, the other two are girls. I remembered Pirate swatting at Ragamuffin and Little Pal and have concluded boys in a litter bully the girls.
Mama Pal wasn’t as enamored with the three kittens as she had been with Muffin and Mini. She left them totally in my care after six to seven days. Muffin and Mini were now big, 13-month-old tomcats.
The kittens never came near me much unless I was petting the older two. Then they would swarm, rubbing their bodies and heads against the older boys and driving them to distraction. Muffin would hiss and snarl at the younger three in exasperation; Mini just took it in stride.
Mini is now 21 months old, the three juveniles are almost 11 months old as of Jan. 20, 2025, the time of this writing. Mini is like a rock star, the juveniles want to follow him everywhere. When Mini gets irritated with them on rare occasions, he’ll give one of his trademark tiny high-pitched meows, swatting at them halfheartedly with a soft paw. I’ve never heard him snarl or hiss. When he’s angry, he’ll turn his back to me and pout, but not for long.
Most humans, dogs, and cats are unremarkable. The three juveniles are mostly unremarkable. Trouble will squall at me until she gets a treat. Brownie greets me in the morning with a couple of meows, she’s the only one of the three I can pet without an older boy around. I can only touch the other two when they’re swarming around Mini.
Fearless, 11 months ago, is bigger than 21-month-old Mini. The only time Fearless vocalizes is when his Big Brother is near. Fearless always wants to be near Mini. The girls, not the best of friends, are nevertheless always somewhat near each other.
Muffin had been disappearing on one- to four-day “trips” since December. The kittens appearing in late April didn’t change his habits. He kept going on frequent journeys lasting one to four days throughout the summer and early fall.
On Nov. 3, 2024, Mini and the three juveniles came swarming to me at 6:30 a.m. for the morning food. Muffin had been gone three days on his latest trip, but I knew I’d see him before the day was out.
At 7 a.m., the feeding was over, and the mob had dispersed. Out from a clump of bushes 75 or so feet down the road came Muffin! He came racing to me running on the curb — (good boys don’t go in the road) — sounding like a siren: MEEEeeeEEEeeeOW!
I got to the feeding/greeting spot the same time he did, as usual I got down on one knee to greet-pet and give him fresh food. He looked into my eyes as usually as I petted him. When he started eating, I went back to my paper vending spot. After eating a bit, he trotted 75 feet back to the clump of bushes. I noted he had never shown an interest in that particular spot before.
For the next four hours, every 15 minutes he would pop out of the bushes and come racing to me along the curb with the siren-like meow. Each time did so, a total of 15-16 times, I would get to the greeting spot when he did, on one knee giving him the necessary pets and gentle voiced talk.
After the fifth or so such episode, I realized he was about to go on another journey, though he had never before left again so soon after returning from a four-day trip.
“Goodbye, I love you!” I knew he was telling me. I kept telling him “I love you too, Great Big Muffin Boy.”
After the final episode, instead of going back to the clump of bushes he started trotting at a resolute pace across a huge field leading to a new apartment complex nearly a quarter-mile away.
On Sunday, November 10 at 6 a.m., I walked the quarter mile to the apartment complex. Muffin had never been gone an entire week. Silently I walked down the complex a little ways. It looks upper-middle class; each apartment has a furnished patio-deck. Each postage-stamp sized front yard seemed to be tastefully decorated in post-Halloween or early Thanksgiving theme.
Nothing was stirring in the crack of dawn Sunday stillness. No cars moving, no people, no people or animals about. Suddenly I realized Muffin had been telling me “Goodbye, Big Friend, I love you” for good. I’m now 95 percent sure somewhere in the complex he’s in a Forever Home. I didn’t loudly call his name out repeatedly like I’d intended to. If he was in one of the nearby apartments, I didn’t want him to hear me and tear at his good little heart.
He didn’t just leave me. He didn’t just say Goodbye once. The Great Big Good Boy had to say “Goodbye, Big Friend, I love you” 16 times! He had never done such a thing before. It had to have been a very difficult decision for him to make.
All I can say is: You made the right decision, Muffin.
I know he was saying Goodbye, I love you. Maybe he was also trying to tell me that while sunning himself daily at the same time every afternoon on someone’s deck chair, (cats are very routine oriented), someone in the apartment noticed, started putting out food for him, maybe with patience and kindness finally enticed him inside.
Maybe it was a man. Or a woman. Or a couple. Or best yet, someone with a small Big Friend that makes the same “HAHA” noise I do as he/she gently pets his head, supervised by the Little Big Friend’s parents.
I don’t begrudge him a minute for choosing such a thing in lieu of extreme heat, cold, dangerous animals, ticks, spiders, loud and dangerous traffic, and maybe for him long endless lonely nights without Big Friend.
It must be working out well, I haven’t seen him as of this writing in 80 days.
A month after Muffin left, I tossed some scraps off my deck rail for the wild animals. A feral black cat sitting 20 feet away was startled, ran 200 feet away. Six days later, by daily walking the scraps to where he was sitting, he was waiting a mere dozen feet away. He now waits daily for his kibble at sunset, approaching the food before I’ve barely turned away.
Just a little demonstration that kindness and calmness go along way for a cat.
I see Mama Pal at least once daily. She gets her gentle talking-to as she slowly enjoys her food. If for some reason I leave in a hurry and come back later, she only takes a few bites and leaves the rest. So now I make sure to keep company with her while she finishes her food. It’s only five or six minutes, I’d be selfish if I begrudged her that amount of time. For the last few months, she’s been popping up by me throughout the day, staring at me until I got her with a treat. And a little conversation.
Great Big Mini Boy greets me happy-tailed at least once and up to six to seven times daily. He loves his pets, treats, and being talked to while he does his biscuit dance. I go to him each time I’m summoned, each visit only takes two to three minutes. Occasionally, he wants 10-15 minutes at a time, I cheerfully give him the attention.
The three juveniles are happy with full plates in front of them, they’ll mostly come when summoned if a treat is involved.
Thankfully they’re all healthy and happy (as far as I can tell). I’m glad I get to live a daily glimpse into their feral lives and participate a little. I’m glad you, reader, did too.