The Gift of Rescue

We at It's a Wonderpurr Life have a special relationship with homeless cats and their secret histories. 

Over time some of the histories become obvious, like KC who had such a fear of people, he avoided me for two years while living in my backyard. He would leave every time I stepped outside to feed him. I used a live trap to have him neutered, but the vet staff never told me he wasn't feral. So I released him. And it took almost two more years before I realized he wasn't feral, but had lost his faith in humanity.

Frank was a similar case where he'd not only lost faith, but had developed severe anger issues where he lashed out and bit anyone who tried to befriend him. To keep him from killing a sickly stray, I had to sweep him back with a broom. He soon turned on me and exhausted himself trying to attack me. But after he shuddered and collapsed in defeat, I asked if he was hungry, and he merrily followed me to the porch for lunch.

Both cats are my poster children for taking a chance on questionable rescues. KC clearly was once an indoor cat. He's very friendly, very touchy-feely. But he's a tripper, throwing himself in front of my feet as I walk. He can't unlearn this dangerous behavior, because I feel it is linked to his desperate need to touch and be touched. While he was living in my yard I would watch him rub affectionately against my raccoons. Thankfully they were a great bunch of yard puppies who kind of adopted him before I was able to bring him indoors. In fact, it was a raccoon named Honeybear who showed KC that I was friendly. I remember him standing back, watching Honeybear and I (who hadn't seen each other in weeks) greet each other while I fed her peanuts and dog kibble. That one act right there broke through his fear of me. The next day he didn't run from the yard, and soon approached me when I offered food.

Frank, at age four I suspect, had been around the block enough to know how to play the game. He bit me, he bit Ray, he bit our pet sitter... and then charmed all three of us into instant forgiveness. In fact, the Christmas after we adopted Frank, he convinced our petsitter that he was allowed to come inside the house. She had no idea that I was still on the fence about trusting him to mingle with Herman, Dori, and ChauncieMarie. So when I returned from my vacation and Frank casually brushed past me into the house... and Dori ran with tail high in the air to greet him, I was stunned. Further stunned when all of my cats treated Frank like he'd always been a part of the Gang. After that Frank never bit anyone, or caused me a moment of regret that I trusted him to behave.

With Rabbit as the sole exception, I prefer to adopt the cats who appear in our yard, clearly having been on the road for a long time. They are wary from living a hard life, and there are some who never totally let down their guard. Jack, who we lost to cancer this past year, was one of them. Feral until the day he passed, but he lived indoors with us for eleven years (due to a mysterious head injury the vet suspected was caused by being struck) and never once made us regret our decision to adopt him.

Bless all of you who open your hearts to the cats with unknown histories. You are most likely the only source of Comfort and Joy they've ever known.

In MEMORY of JACK