The icy cold night where Prince would huddle.

at night. 6 weeks after capture

Prince is observed through the glass- playing. Alone. Doing what Luna and Puma do- wondering why they do it but doing it again and again. that ball!

He is an outsider on insider territory. Watching.

He watches Luna play, not going near her. Luna and Puma fascinate Prince. he doesnt fascinate them.

Luna and puma have eyes mostly for each other.

At this point, I never thought Prince could come in the house or be even a vague part of this family. Almost daily, I tried to spend even a moment with him,when he came around. Advisers advised patience saying one day he will jump in your lap (hasnt happened even months later). One day he will come up to you and sit by your feet. Not yet either....but I didnt give up--- because there was no point to defeat. People give up on each other. Some have given up on me---for no deep seated reason, I couldnt give up on him.

Luna and Puma surprisingly had no qualms about Prince alone or unloved tho they did seem to care for each other- but not 24/7. Nor did they care for me 24/7 much to my chagrin.

Prince out of cage on porch. Cats allowed also on porch- under obs.

Puma eyeballs Prince through the window at night.

Prince is in the left lower corner watching Luna and Puma who fascinate him by their antics, indifference to him, and fearlessness regarding me, the human.

He's tentative copying their perches- not sure why they are on the porch or what direction he should look. They ignore him.

He ignores me. he fears me. He despises me it seems.

below is the cage where Prince spent his early days. That too was half the product of a kind stranger who brought it in his truck, going miles out of his way. When he offered to get the dog in, I had to explain, it was a cat, a wild one. He shared, after a pause, he too had wild cats but never fed them. They ate the mice on his farm. We left it at that.

cropped ear

His ear finally healing- his head tells the community- he is a feral cat who has been neutered and has a right to live out his life. It tells animal services, this is a "kept cat" and they will seek the person who provides for his colony.
Prince was registered in a colony of one. He is a Prince.

Safe ferals play too.
Obviously, he brought his pretty self back HOME after a few days away to discover his new residence. He also brought a few new friends who wanted to eat his food. I had left the porch screen door ajar so he could come in to eat and leave. So he would know he was free.
My 2 cats thus couldnt go out if the porch door was ajar since they were basically indoor cats. They hated Prince more than before, if possible.

Prince in his new location

But this blog is about Prince the feral whom I thought was a Princess because of his timid, reclusive ways. The first surprise upon picking him up with the group who never truly considered him a part of them, was that he was a male. Therefore, renamed.

He spent a week or 2 in a large cage on my back porch. I covered it from the hot sun and put a fan out there to cool him. He remained scared to death. If I came near him, he hissed, quietly, fearfully. It wasnt a pleasant time for either of us.

My 2 little cats werent allowed out the first week so as not to frighten him further.

Eventually, not knowing how to clean the cage, I had to let him onto the porch where he remained hidden for another 2 weeks. he slid out to eat when I wasnt around. Hissed if I came near him. I wondered what I had done and how to ever get close to this cat. I wondered if he were more miserable here than lost on the streets.

If you look closely, you can see the cropped ear: sign of the feral. You can also see he is plumping up and starting to keep himself clean tho my 2 couldnt stand to be near him. I had no idea they were such snobs since they werent brought up that way.

Eventually, Prince got out the open porch door. I searched for him at night and the next day. I bought binoculars to further search him. I went to sporting goods stores loking for night binoculars to better spot him in the dark. Every white piece of paper was a potential discovery of this cat, every white hunk of garbage, every pail. If he got hurt, I would blame myself. Armed with various truths abt cats- they always return to where they are fed, they return miles away to their first home, they are shot to death by cat haters, etc I learned to just let time take its course (yeah right, not)

help?

Now I have a wild cat in a cage crying on my porch and my 2 cats unable to go out to the porch they love. It seems the whole state went away for the holiday weekend and if not, are deep asleep. What do I do? Do I release him again to the wild as some suggested or return him to the bad place he came from. Do I just wish it were better? Do I sell the house as is with the cats in it- as I once planned to do when I discovered a frog in my toilet?

I email a woman LiZa in Alaska I know only from an organization I sometimes seek advice or education from for the permanent makeup procedures I do. Luna is just a baby and helps by entangling herself in the wiring.

Amazingly, LiZa responds almost immediately offering encouragement and advice- from ALASKA. She stays with me in this from afar with her vast knowledge and good naturedness despite the busy schedule she carries professionally and all the people she stays in touch with, personally. I have never met this woman nor heard her voice yet she cares about me and this cat from a place I have never been in the middle of my night.

Prince owes part of his future wellbeing to this woman who came through for us in a dark lonely hour.

One tested postive

Just a baby, neutered and scared, waiting to be released back to his home.

This one wasnt so lucky. He will never be released to the wild again but nor will he be euthanized.

I was to pick up the cats after they were spayed and neutered. There were 6 cats in cages to be brought to my home to recover and then be released. By a turn of events, the humane society was full and couldnt accept the cats on the appointed day of delivery. Our area was one of the selected locations for money from Mission Orange, so people and cats and organizations were participating in the reduced cost of spaying.

Our cats were brought to another service for their surgery and testing. On Friday of the holiday weekend, I learned 1 cat tested postive. I was so fearful it was my white cat with the turquois eyes whom I had named Feral Princess. It was the biggest cat, a male named Tiger.

That facility didnt believe in euthanizing cats but the humane society felt a positive cat couldnt be released back to infect his colony. The told me they would stay open late for me to return with the cat to be put down.

At this point, I was as alone and abandoned as these anesthetized cats. For me, I simply couldnt be a part of a death car transporting the cats, still in their traps to the humane society, leaving 5 in my car and dropping off the 6th to be ended. I called people I knew- no one was available- no one could even help drive the cats- I had a corolla.

A man I knew who had property and his own view on life and people and animals, said he would not allow the cat to be put down. Bring the cats to him to recover. At this point I felt I was selling my soul to allow this cat to live for reasons which will remain undisclosed- a cat I didnt know- since I couldnt recall this cat trotting up to me to be fed.

Feral cats on the property happily eating.

In an airconditioned mobile home, with porches to the outdoors, 24 hour TV (usually on sports per the owners taste which he feels the cats must enjoy also), regular meals, couches, and toys, etc. lives Tiger with a new group. Tiger was described as one of the meanest cats met- but he is entitled to his temper, never asking to be saved, or trapped, or tested. He is safe; he is alive; he is pissed. He has adjusted. He still hates humans. He is a feral FIV+ cat. The one cat in the window is another + cat.

Many cats owe gratitude to this man who operates with his own money his own sancutary. There are chickens, goats, minature horses, offspring ofhis favorite dog live in the house. There are free running ferals outdoors. Another part of the house contains house cats- who have acess outdoors. They all enjoy privacy and like facility for abused women and children, its location remains a secret too outsiders.

Never caught

This beautiful striped guy, friendly, living alone at the first stop of those of us who went to feed, would always come to greet us, eat, visit, and walk away. There were 2 who were willing to keep him safe after he was trapped and neutered but alas, he proved extremely hard to catch- despite the recommended Churche's fried chicken. Once a cat failed to stay in the trap or realized what was happening he grew leery and near impossible to trick. This cat last came to us, turned away and ran at breakneck speed to catch a squirrel in its jaws, crunch its head, eating it in front of us- tauting us to see his sweet side and trap-- we couldnt. We left him. I believe he still lives by a large rock alone, charming residents he trusts, and getting by. Even the most experienced trapper never caught him. He is close to 3 years old now- a dangerous time for an outdoor cat living by his wits, alone. He is thinnner now and bigger. Maybe someday, someone will keep him safe.

It is like looking at photos of troops in Iraq- MIA. It all comes full circle- the right, once alive and not harming others, to exist.

never seen again

this large yellowish cat disappeard. Did he die quietly somewhere or in pain? Is he still hiding or are his remains destroyed? It is still painful for me to see this photo; I fool myself he "got away."

We will never know. He wasnt trapped and didnt come for food.

This sweet guy was hurt by angry residents. They called a private trapper who "humanely" destroyed this life.

The concern was trapping a raccoon instead of a cat- fortunately, it didnt happen. This raccooon (in background) was never visited again.

always aloof

The cat I called mine was always off alone- with the group but not quite. I imagined this was the cat's royalty, specialness. I became obsessed with helping this cat.

By this time, residents had called animal services, and time was running out. I panicked each time I couldnt find my cat.

Help comes from strangers when least expected. The newly placed office manager said he needed to help someone or something. He fed a cat near his office and gave us access to the newly "gated" community. A guard knew generations of the cats and could point out this mother had this baby who then got with that cat and had these 3, etc .

trapping

with raccoon, sharing what little food there was.

Attempts were made to trap the cats for several weeks. Mosquitos, darkness, frightened cats, hostile residents, personal issues, raccoons, made the challenge even more difficult. Some of the cats had kittens by now (it was "kitten season") and those were the easier ones to trap, spay, and release back to the group.

This is the "new generation" eating on the side of the hill.

The bottom photo taken by cell phone shows several raccoons and 1 cat all eating. ugh. The raccoons scared me. And vice versa.

not pet material

The unpretty face. hsss. hsss.

where the colony resided

The cats lived near a body of water and an abandoned house. Those who lived nearest the group werent always allies and threatened the cats . Sometimes a cat from the group wasnt seen ever again and it was feared death by natural or unnatural causes.

Briefly the cats were encouraged to eat on the porch of this house- away from prying eyes. The porch turned out to be part of a shack owned by a Korean church which did not give permission for the strays to be fed there.

The humans grappled with the question- was the group safe there? Did they need to be moved? Were we safe feeding there at night? The only definite answer was the group needed to be trapped, spayed or neutered before being returned there or elsewhere. (The "group: being the cats.)

Early days. April 2007

The feral who caught my eye lived in a colony behind some apartments going "condo." The cat was one of the more fearful, hiding when I was near unless near starvation brought out the willingness to venture forward.

I was part of a small group of humans who took turns providing food and water to the colony. If I got too close, he ran.

If it rained, he waited in the rain-- I imagined for me. Later I understood he had no place to be- the others didnt let him share shelter they found; he was scared of them anyway.

I did think Prince knew me-- I was some being who cared for him and of whom he then must be extra careful. I made promises to him I was afraid I couldnt keep such as "I wont hurt you. You will be safe."

Prince in the woods

Slightly over a year ago this weekend, the feral I called my feral Princess watched me from a distance, never letting me get close. This is the story of how I learned he was not princess and how he became, in a way, my feral Prince. This is about a feral cat who joined a family of nonferals.