Trap, neuter, return feral cats

Warning: this is long.

Years ago, I rented an apartment in an old farmhouse. Prior to this, I had no experience with cats. The barn of course was full of feral “barn cats” who were allowed to breed as they wished (producing some pretty sad mutations) and for the most part these cats kept to themselves, rarely coming into the yard. AND THEN, the farmer allowed a relative to drop off an unaltered brother and sister pair of house cats. They naturally made their way into the yard, and the next thing I knew the male had adopted us. Before I could get him fixed, he had sired a litter two of whom survived and who I adopted (no doubt on their paternity Baby & Spanky were definitely Flopsy’s).

I got all three fixed but could not get a hold of Flopsy’s sister (who we wound up naming Mama Cat, for the obvious reason), as she had become reclusive after her abandonment. This coupled with my ignorant neighbor putting her unaltered female Bo “out in the yard” because she couldn’t deal with her and couldn’t afford to get her fixed led to what eventually I called Kitten Calcutta. You couldn’t walk from your car to the door without a horde of cats descending upon you. It was awful.

In my own ignorance, I did feed them. I felt so bad for them, but I was a newlywed and we had no money to spay/neuter this ever growing population. I was lucky enough to hook up with an organization called The Spade Club, who partnered with a local vet, and I was able to get 6 of the females fixed, including poor Bo. I tried my damndest to find good homes for everyone, and managed to place quite a few kittens. The kicker is that the farmer’s sister called me and accused me of “keeping cats” in violation of the lease. Now at this time in my life I was quite the pushover, but that woman pissed me off so bad I freaked out and let her have it – I felt a lot of this could have been avoided if they had told their relative that they could abandon Flopsy and Mama Cat only if they got them fixed first.

Sadly, my marriage ended and I left the farm. My biggest regrets are Bo, whom I could not place (and who my Mom would not let me take – she generously let me move home, but she is not an animal person and I was only permitted to bring one cat – had to pick my Lily, who is a skittish wreck and could never survive as an outdoor cat) and Jack the Rabbit, whose mama had the good sense to birth him in the yard where some fool lady was providing resources unavailable in the barn. He was about half-feral, and I had been making real progress with him – right before I moved away he consented to “walk under my hand”. I had to leave them all. I’ll never forget Bo looking up at me when I brought her back there after she was allowed to stay at my mom’s long enough to heal from her surgery. I know she had thought she had found a home.

My three original cats Flopsy, Baby and Spanky stayed with my ex-husband.

I found out later an upstairs neighbor had used a shotgun “to take care of the problem.”

I made a lot of mistakes, I know that now. I wish I had known then – I wouldn’t have let so many of those cats down.