Over 4 years ago, the Tiny Terror appeared at the bottom step of our home. He wasn’t more than 6 weeks old. He climbed up to the stair railing, ignoring the curious 60 pound dogs, walked to the second floor porch and meowed. He was so sweet as a kitten, always wanting to be on my lap, or sleeping on my desk nearby.
And then adulthood hit him with a vengeance and he became a feral cat with a home.
He wanted his food served to him on top of a car, me-Now
He won’t come inside the house unless it’s winter, and only to sleep next to a heater. When desperate, he’ll sleep next to a warm human. But when summer comes around again in May, he’s nowhere to be found…
…until dinner time.
Then he’ll sit on the roof of a car that’s visible to the humans and stare at a window.
Sometimes he wants dry food, other times he wants turkey, hot dogs, beef, eggs, chicken, or a mixture of everything. My better half generally takes out a bowl with a little bit of everything on it to see what he wants to eat.
The princely feline will sit with his legs tucked, waiting for his human servants to appear with his food. When he becomes a royal pain in the butt, and refuses to eat anything, he gets a bowl of dry food.
He loves to roam these woods, to play, explore and hunt.
Winter is coming and he’ll be inside the house again soon. I miss the kitten who loved to cuddle with me at night, the kitten who always slept on my lap or on my arm.
As a mother of 40-somethings, I’ve experienced “Empty Nest Syndrome.” We love our children no less in their absence than we loved them as children.
The same could be said for the feral cat with a home.