Sadly one of the nasty things about living in the country is that we become the dumping ground for unwanted pet. Maybe it’s because our animal shelter is often burdened by animals that are rescued from collectors.
The photo above is of my cat Abby. One day I saw this tiny kitten skulking across our deck trying to get out of the rain. Being feral, she tried to make herself really small and I thought she just had really short legs. I thought she was a wiener cat. After seeing her hanging out for a couple of days I put some food out for her and she soon became comfortable eating what we provided. I couldn’t get close to her.
Knowing how short the life span of feral is, I wanted to habilitate her; she showed some nice personality traits, but she was shy and frightened. I caught her in my Have-A-Heart trap and I brought her in the house to get her out of the cold. We kept her in one of our bathrooms for a couple of days with food, water and a warm place to sleep.
We were able to get her into a cat carrier to take her to a vet to make sure she didn’t have feline leukemia. The vet found her healthy and guessed her age at six to eight weeks. We brought her back home and let her have run of the house so it would be imprinted as her home. After another week of good feeding she went into heat, which made her about six-months old. It was her lack of good nutrition that dwarfed her. She was and still is a tiny cat now that she is nine years old.
Abby is still squirrely. She will not allow us to touch her as long as we are standing up. She has no problem hopping up on our laps if we are sitting down. She has no vices as far as clawing the rugs or furniture. She is quiet and she hides well. The funny thing about her is that she always looks like she is angry, even when she is purring contently. I know she isn’t angry, she just has one of those scowly looks about her.