I recently met a woman who is staying in San Diego for awhile to help a family member. She greeted me with a hug and introduced herself. I began to say my name and she laughed replying, “I won’t remember it.” There was something so endearing and true about that remark I had to sit and talk with her some more. She came from a life on a large piece of land in rural Louisiana.
She began to talk about all the people in her life who she cares for and compared them to the 18 cats she owns. Since she lives in the country all the cats roam the land around her home and hunt for mice and snakes. She talked about how she can’t bear to take the cats to the shelter because the “no kill” shelter is always full and the other one would likely euthanize those poor cats so she allows them to roam free on her property. One such cat would have none of this feral existence and one day while she stood in her walk in closet dressing for work, she heard the faintest purring sound and discovered this cat had made her home deep among-st her shoe boxes. This cat continued to find ways into their home and every time she found the cat, the cat purred unlike any of the other free range cats on the land. She decided since this cat seemed elderly and clearly was determined to be the house cat she would simply let her. However, she had one condition. The cat must be taken to the veterinarian and bathed. The woman declared there was no way she was going to attempt bathing a feral cat on her own. After some TLC, a spay, and some much needed flea meds, her big elderly lady kitty officially had a claim on the house.