Not very long ago, I was “chosen” by a stray cat. He’s young, still feral to a great extent, and black–almost identical to my own pet except for white markings my cat has had since he was a kitten (he has a million names but we just call him Bubba now) . This winter’s been an exceptionally hard one for the vineyard and for the animals around who live in it, and this new black cat (who’s been christened “Other Bubba” by my husband) has had to overcome an unimaginable amount of real fear to approach me for food and some kind of shelter. I couldn’t shoo him away, and I knew there’d be trouble when my own cat caught on to the existence of this new and younger “twin”. I grit my teeth, set out a dish of food, I bought him a warm little cat shelter, and placed it behind a makeshift lean-to created by the back end of an overturned adirondack chair I’d put away for the winter on the verandah.
Bubba
I didn’t think he’d find his way into the shelter, but he emerges from it on sunny days to greet me when I leave the house. And yes, I’ve put a dish of dry cat food out just beside it, so he will always have enough food. It’s the kind that comes in paper bags, like charcoal or potatoes. The labels are nondescript, just lettering on a solid colour background. I hate feeding this cat this kind of food but his appearances are erratic and I don’t want him to starve or be cold–and he isn’t coming into my home. So dry cat food it has to be. When I know he’s around I’ll feed him real food–leftover meat or the same kind of thing Bubba gets regularly.
I have to be discreet about that, though. It has to take place when Bubba’s not immediately present to see it.
When the whole thing started I made myself ready for the change in the universe it would cause. Right now they’re co-existing peacefully. I’ve even let them see each other and be around each other, with my own cat taking the upper hand over Other Bubba. At first we stayed out with them both, to make sure nothing violent would take place: I’ve seen my cat around others and if he’s threatened in any way he’ll attack, but he will also suffer for asserting himself in that he will make himself physically sick. In the past, that’s meant everything from targeted vomiting sessions which have destroyed a few beloved possessions, to life threatening illnesses that come complete with surgeries, days of recuperation boarding, and weeks of truly unpleasant post-op care. On top of everything, Bubba has been known to abuse his vet during these ordeals, biting him impressively each time he’d palpate during an exam. The vet would then energetically stifle a curse then take himself off to the lab’s fridge to find the appropriate vaccine so he could inoculate himself before the puncture wound swelled and reddened too far. My opinion about vaccines includes a firm, science-based belief of their utterly catastrophic effects on the body–human or otherwise. I concluded a long time ago that it will be much healthier for any vet if Bubba and I stay out of their exam rooms forever more.
My cat’s 18 years old now, and I was there the second he was born (and then abandoned by his mother) so we’ve been together a long time. Over the course of those 18 years, however, he’s encountered a lot of the problems that can come from eating all the grain and second-rate meat products put in commercial foods so now he gets ground turkey, which he seems to prefer over any other kind of ground meat. I give him scraps from the table, and cod liver oil, and things like yogurt sprinkled with taurine and follow all the other recommendations given to people who’ve had to restore their pets’ health using real foods. He’s done well–medically he was supposed to die over 10 years ago, but he’s still here this morning to complain wildly about the food he’s not going to be allowed to eat. I’m mentioning this only because of the amount of attention he needs, he’s a constant concern if I’m home and he makes me understand he was here first, even if all he requires are steady meals and a warm place to sleep.
Strays don’t just “turn up”, though, they choose their caretakers carefully. They don’t often act alone when they tell you you”ll be responsible for them from that point on. I’m not 100% sure about how it’s happened, but I am sure in knowing that Bubba’s own intentions have brought this other kitten home to me.
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