It is the little things: fuzzy blanket, cat on lap, fresh new journal. Ah. It took me almost a year to fill up the last journal. Maybe life will be calm enough that I get a full year into this one.

It is the little things: fuzzy blanket, cat on lap, fresh new journal. Ah. It took me almost a year to fill up the last journal. Maybe life will be calm enough that I get a full year into this one.

“Dogs and cats living together! Mass Hysteria!” Peter Venkman, Ghostbusters

Is this a sign of the end? Probably, every day is the end. But the end is also a beginning.

My eldest and I set up the live traps to start catching the feral cats in the woods. Five of the cheeky things came and circled all around the traps, even managing to steal some tuna (in oil) without springing a trap. One even sat on top! We eventually caught one, and our neighbor caught one so we had two to take in for the TNR (Trap Neuter Return) program. We are only allowed two a day, so this was a good result.


Even better was that they were both tortoise shell and thus both female. I’d like to get the boys out of the baby making business too, but this was a definite reduction in the possibility of more kittens. The poor things were very scared. Neither one made a peep the entire time in our care. As instructed, we checked on them every hour, and we were able to change out pee pads without any attempted escape. In the morning, we set them free in their territory. It seems strange to let freshly neutered felines out into the woods, but they wouldn’t take any water from us, so most likely wouldn’t eat either. The shelter said they will probably hole up for a couple days before venturing out again.

The trail cam caught a photo of what could be a cat fight, but I suspect is more amorous in nature. I’m fairly certain that these are the two cats I kept catching being frisky in the meadow. Hm. I’m working with our neighbor to start TNR (Trap, Neuter, Release) with the local cat population. I’ve borrowed some live traps from one of the the local TNR groups, and I’ll start taking in cats two at a time. That is the theory anyway.

I’m glad the hardware cloth on the top of the runs is sturdy since the neighborhood cats like to sit on it like fuzzy toadstools. I took the picture with the black cat up and Sophie looking on (I pretty sure she taught them all the trick). My husband took the one of the big white cat, who truly looks like a fungi. The chickens don’t seem to be concerned about fuzzy death from above, but did let out concerned noises when my husband approached. So there we go. The cats have found a place to watch chicken TV without disturbing the inmates.

