Dedicated to Trouble, Nothing But Trouble, Triple-Trouble --All the same cat. He really was trouble

In Israel there are basically three kinds of cats: house cats that are cared for and loved, abandoned house cats that used to be cared for -- but maybe no so much loved -- who have to figure out how to survive outdoors, and feral cats who were born in the wild.  When the  British Empire controlled the Middle East, British sailors put house cats on their ships to keep rat populations under control. These little guys landed in parts unknown either escaped or were taken off the ship and ran wild. In the centuries following, the cats have learned to survive returned to their feral state and have actually over populated in some areas. These feral cats survive quite nicely although their lifespan is considerably shorter (2 to 5 years) than a pampered housecat that can live well into the teens.

These stories are about the feral cats that have made their territory by our apartment building and who I feed on a regular basis. But the story begins with the abandoned cat who forced us to adopt him.

The little guy hung out in the back entrance and we would see him every time we left and came back. We called him Good Kitty because he was really friendly and liked to be petted. We believed he belonged to the people who lived on the second floor, except when they moved the cat stayed behind. So I started feeding him, and he learned to follow me up to my place on the third floor always pausing to look longingly at the apartment on the second floor.

I also brushed him because his fur was so gnarly. He would sit in a regal manner while I brushed him and would come up every morning to eat and be brushed meowing all the way up. He began to expect our door to open automatically as he reached the top floor. After all, he had been making his presence known all the way up the stairs. He had a routine, check out the food situation and eat, run scare the birds off the window sill, sit and be brushed, drink water, take a long nap where he would snore so loud you could hear him across the room.

This cat loved his water, it was almost like he was addicted to it and would run to his water bowl whenever he felt offended. The water seemed more like a psychological comfort thing than any real need to drink. 

At any rate, the little guy kept rigid guard on his territory -- no, and I mean, no cats were allowed in. Even other cats outside who belonged to other residents needed to tread carefully. There is a black cat with a teeny dot of white at the end of her tail that would stay away when the little guy was outside. When he was up with us, she would loll around like she owned the entire backyard, then quickly disappear when he came outside. On time she pranced out of the bushes not realizing our adopted cat was keeping guard of the territory, saw him staring at her and slowly--carefully backed up into the bushes.

Many of the tenants would feed our cat, and one tenant put out a bowl for him. He seemed so proud to have his very own bowl. Everytime he looked at the bowl, it was like he was thinking, “That’s MY bowl, my very own bowl.”

Needless to say, the little guy brought us a lot of pleasure. There’s something about a cat that makes a place a home. Unfortunately, at least once a year the city puts out poison for the rats, but cats eat it too, and our little guy got really sick. We carried him up to the apartment and nursed him back to health, but felt that since he technically wasn’t ours and insisted on going outside it would be a waste of money to call at vet. During this time we bought him a littler box and he seemed so grateful that he didn’t have to lumber downstairs to take care of his needs. It was like he saw that and realized we had made him a part of the family. 

He was an older cat and even though he recuperated from the poisoning died about nine months later. We still miss him.

But this blog isn’t about our little guy. It’s about the territory that has opened up since he passed. As vigilant as the cat was about chasing other cats out of his territory, he really didn’t need to work so hard. It was about two weeks before the feral cats wandered into his territory and with immense trepidation set up a home.

I told my husband I wasn’t going to feed them because I didn’t want them to become dependent. I told my husband, it would be a long time before I could love another cat. So I feed them every day, and observe them, named them, and worry if they don’t show up for feeding time. So much for love and not fostering dependence.