feral cats

The Romancing of Noah
Frank: From Tabby Terrorist to Mama’s Boy
Throw Back Thursday: Frank Loses Body Part – Gets Forever Home

The Romancing of Noah

I knew him only a short time. Nine months tops. But he made a huge impact on me, and now I mourn his death.

Noah arrived last spring, skittish yet curious. And hungry. I am a cat magnet. They find me no matter where I am. I’ve rescued over 70 cats in my adult lifetime. Some choose to make my home their Forever Home. Some move on. Others, like Noah, break my heart.

Every morning and evening Noah waited for me along the creek behind my house. I would bring him kibble and canned food. He wasn’t tame, yet he didn’t strike me as feral either. He was assessing me, determining whether I was worthy of his attention beyond food. Turns out I was. Read More

Frank: From Tabby Terrorist to Mama’s Boy

Long line of Crazy Cat LadiesI’ve been a Cat Magnet for most of my life, and still they surprise me…which is what cat’s live for: Being unpredictable.

I had a very interesting interaction with Frank on Monday. We’ve had a stray black cat hanging around for a few weeks. In the past Frank has run him off, so I keep Frank inside until the cat eats. I put a bowl of food out by the tree along the woodline by 6:30 every morning, as he shows up between 6:30 and 7:00 am — again around 1:30-3:00, and even around 5pm, so of course I’m checking my clock to make sure I have food out there.

Anyway! It was a warmer day on Monday, so I let Frank out after black kitty left. Around one o’clock I happened to glance out and saw the stray eating. I also saw Frank hunkered down not more than five feet away from him. I knew if I stepped outside the stray would run, and then Frank would chase him. But — I had a bad feeling Frank was going to rip into him anyway, so I stepped outside and called to him.

I fully expected Frank to launch at the stray and take off in high pursuit. Instead, I saw him flick an ear my way, even though he kept growling at the stray. As I continued to call to Frank, the black cat hunkered down over his dish, not moving. I kept calling to Frank. I could see he was torn with indecision. Should he disembowel the stray, or run to mama to see if she had noms? What to do, what to do?

When I switched to the world-renown “Here Kitty Kitty Kitty!:” Frank actually turned to look at me and did his Di Nero impurrsonation:

Frank you talking to me

I doubled down on the syrupy baby talk that all Cat Ladies are known for, and to my utter shock, Frank left his prey to walk across the back yard and up onto the porch. And when he reached me, he flopped over on his back for a belly rub. Meanwhile the black kitty is watching all this with his mouth hanging open. I picked Frank up and took him inside to give him lunch.

Recalling Frank from the summer of 2014 (click to read) when he was a Tabby Terrorist and tried to attack me while I swept him back with a broom to keep him from dismembering the poor sick stray, Joshua, this new version of Frank says volumes about how a permanent home with a warm bed and constant food supply, not to mention LOVE, will change a cat’s personality.

Ray and I loved Frank from the start. He looked like our Buddy who lived to be 22, and yet he’s not Buddy, he’s … Frank!

Frank chilling

Throw Back Thursday: Frank Loses Body Part – Gets Forever Home

This post was originally published in June of 2014 from my other blog.

Herman 1-ViewNXIf you’re wondering why I look so woebegone, it’s because she’s done it again. I’m referring to my mom. What’s she done, you ask? I’ll get to that in a minute. First, let me preface my revelation with a little hissstory.

I call the lady who rescued me from a blizzard back when I was a runaway 8 month old kitten, “Mom.” She isn’t my biological mother, of course. But since I don’t remember my bio-mom, and my rescuer doesn’t have human children, we came to an agreement way back on that cold day in January. She would be my mom and take care of me forever, and in return, I’d help her write books, and keep her company when she travels, and devote my 9 Lives to being by her side, through thick and thin.

Maybe I should have looked at the fine print in our contract.

Maybe I should have hired a lawyer to draw up a contract! (Is it too late?)

I didn’t realize at the time, way back on that cold January day, that the lady I let rescue me was a Cat Magnet. I don’t think Webster has come up yet with a definition, but my definition of Cat Magnet means, my mom can walk outside and a stray cat will be there — right there! — waiting for her to feed him, and name him, and take him to the doctor for…you know…doctoring. And then…she usually keeps him. *Sigh!* She’s pretty much run out of peoples who don’t already have a bunch of cats to ask if they want to adopt her newest stray.

Lately, my mom stinks like a tomcat. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. She’s adopted countless cats over the past two decades, and while she hasn’t kept them all; some she’s actually found homes for, the others who have stayed have sunk their claws into her heart. Which breaks mine. Because there is only so much of her to go around. And when a new cat shows up, all needy and wonky from Life on the Road, that’s less time she will have for me.

There are 7 of us living inside: Me, Opie, Peaches and her son, Jack, and her granddaughter Gidget, and Chauncie Marie, and Adorapurr aka Dori.

And there are 3 panfur cats living in our fenced yard: Jesse is Peaches’ son, Jack’s brother and Nikolas is Dori’s daddy. Feral Charlie has been around for 3 years, but he knows what a live trap is, and so far has eluded entrapment.

That’s 10, not counting the raccoons Mom cares for, who are currently making more raccoons.

Every single one of us cats has had a prior life on the streets. We’ve known hunger. We’ve been scared. We’ve had injuries, and sickness. None of us came to Mom 100% clean. She rescued all of us, and so many more, out of her own pocket, and out of her own time.

Time better spent on me.

I’m just saying.

I’m sure you might have read about her trying to capture Joshua, the sick orange kitty who found his way to our yard, but like Charlie, had confinement issues. He had a runny nose, crusty eyes, couldn’t breathe! So of course he couldn’t smell food inside the trap, nor could he smell food on a clean plate right under his nose. It took him watching Mom use a broom to battle back another tomcat who wanted to beat the stuffing out of Josh, for Josh to realize maybe she wasn’t his enemy. After the broom incident, Josh let her approach to feed him. She talked baby talk to him, and eventually he came to her for petting. She wanted to get him to the doctor, he needed it desperately. He was so thin, dehydrated!


But it wasn’t to be. He got scared, and then returned to the woods behind our house, avoiding Mom except for after dark when he would come to the porch and she would feed him and love him. And try to capture him. She got a lot of scratches from him being scared. Finally, she got a drug from the doctor and was able to pick him up and cage him. But it wasn’t to be. Joshua had leukemia. He is now OTRB, may he rest in peace. But at least he knew someone cared at the very end. Joshua would have joined my Mom’s cat club, if he had lived. There’s no doubt about that, cuz I overheard her telling him he’d have a home when he returned from the doctor. But when he didn’t come home, Mom made sure he would live forever by giving him the part of Wild Bill in my book, FINDING MYA. His picture is there in the book for all to see him. Forever!

Um… Remember that tomcat she had to sweep back to keep him from beating the stuffing out of Josh?

That’s Frank. He showed up about the same time as Josh, in early spring, acting tough, showing off his man cat pride with tail held high. Jesse and Nikolas never really bonded, but now, because of their mutual dislike of Frank, they’re pretty chummy.

Mom and Dad like Frank. A lot. He’s a 13-1/2 pound tabby, all muscle, with a tiny bite out of his one ear. Dad sez he’s a dog-cat. He comes when he’s called. He supervises Dad doing yard work. He wants to come inside the house to hang out with my mom. But… thank cat! Frank won’t be allowed inside the house. Unlike that old teevee show from the 70s, 7 is Enough!

Frank has claimed the garage for his turf. He’s been set up with a bed, a kitchenette, a fan and toys. Mom cracks open the door so he can come and go. She’s also encouraged him to hang out in the raccoon yard because its been so hot here and she doesn’t want him to get heat stroke.

Frank 2

Frank 3If you’re a guy cat, it’s a firm rule with the Cat Magnet that you have to sacrifice your nads in order to be adopted. I saw this file on Mom’s desk this morning, so it’s official.


Since Frank is an outside cat, and I’m…you know, King of my World, it isn’t likely that we will hang out together like we’re friends. But because my parents will stink like Frank from time to time, I will be aware of him, lurking on the fringe of my world…where he belongs.

Some of you might know that I’ve recently taken up pawtography. So, I decided to rise above my deepest desire to rip him to shreds, and asked Frank to sit for his Official Adoption Portrait. My wonderpurr talent has made him look better than he really is.

Frank Official Adoption Photo

Do you live with a Cat Magnet? Or a Crazy Cat Lady? If so, how do you control her? I’m despurrrate for tips!

Thanks for stopping by. Have a Wonderpurr Day!

~ Herman @TattleCat

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