MAYDAY! MAYDAY!

Calling all cat people far and wide... HELP!

If you're not a cat person, maybe you could pass this link on to your friends and friends of friends: we're desperate to get advice from vets and breeders... anyone who knows anything whatsoever about feline behaviour, really. Here's hoping to see lots of comments, and soon, please!

See, IT'S PANIC STATIONS here at Stray Kitten Central.

It all began yesterday afternoon as we celebrated a friend's birthday in the park across town.  The 5th October is  a Portuguese bank holiday, see, and the party was a lovely afternoon picnic.  With the sun shining gloriously for us all day, and the company, chat and beer very pleasant indeed, we admired a beautiful sunset as we wandered home, happy and relaxed.

That feeling didn't last long.

For unbeknownst to us, as we'd finished off our boules game in the sandy grounds of Choupal, Agatha had been readying herself for big change.  We were expecting to find the usual:

But we returned to an empty nest.

She had transported each of the kittens to an entirely new home, where we eventually found them, in the half-light, curled up under a shrub.

You might remember from my previous post that moving home is nothing new to Agatha, and indeed, since I last wrote, we have seen another 3 housing setups. I reckon it works out that she hasn't spent more than about 5 days in one place, so a change was probably about due.  It's just that this is the first time she's taken the litter off our property.

And we'd really rather she hadn't chosen a patch of land in the garden of the most anti-cat neighbours we have.

You see, going back a month (just over) to when they were born, the neighbourhood in general was incredibly scornful of the whole business.

"There are too many cats around here.  What about the smell? And the Mess? Before we know it THEY'll all be having litters too! When does it stop? No, no.  There comes a point. Enough cats.  Enough. This isn't right.  This isn't natural.  It's just not natural at all."

Even our resident cat lady, Mary Ellen (she has something in the region of eight cats herself) was in on it - why, it was only Thursday that she finally, resignedly, conceded: "I suppose they're too old for us to kill now.  When they were born, fine.  But now, I guess it's just too late for that."

There's nothing like telling it like it is, is there?

Similar thought processes are certainly not beyond her next-door neighbours, in the corner of whose property the cats now reside.  We even did a deal with them a while ago, in fact;  we would look after the litter, feed them and find them homes, just as long as they relaxed and let the cats be.

We failed to ask if they would possibly mind hosting the litter for a while.

No, we wouldn't think that would go down well.

So far, those neighbours seem to be unaware of their new guests.  And if their dog has cottoned on, his chain is thankfully too short for him to cause much fuss.  We're thinking it's best to try and keep that state of ignorance as long as possible.

But what next?
Should we stage a kitnapping? Grab them when she's not looking and install them in our quieter back garden?  The real issue then is that Agatha herself won't be caught.  Last week we tried the whole scenario to disastrous, heartbraking effect: they'd been holed up in the plastic carrier (yes, in the end it was the only decent protection available to her when the rains came, and boy did they come) with no sunlight or running space for days and I was worried for their development so I took the carrier - in plain sight of Agatha - and put it in the back garden hoping she'd follow.  But she couldn't bring herself to cross the boundary of our front door, nor to venture far enough from where they'd been to discover them behind the block, and nearly an hour of distress all-round had passed before we crumbled and returned them to their previous location.

So, you see, we really don't know what to do for the best for our little clan. I had thought spending time near them would help socialise them now they are nearly five weeks old, and Agatha was certainly growling less and almost letting us stroke her.. but maybe she was too unnerved by my continued proximity?  In which case, is leaving them alone and praying for the best all we can do?

Our current state is one of more-or-less helpless inaction, although I have done one thing: rightly or wrongly, I withdrew the food station from the front of the house this morning and put it out back.  Cheeky Charlie knows it's there.  Will he pass on that knowledge? If Agatha ventures to eat there, might she take note of the kitten-friendly nest area I've set up in the back garden?

So far, the plan's back-firing.  She's going hungry  in my stubborn insistence not to feed her out front, and rather than explore, is instead eating more at Mary Ellen's house.  Mary Ellen is in turn getting suspicious.  "Have you got enough food? Why isn't it out? She's looking thin..."

Despite my explanation that I'm trying to train her to eat on the other, safer side of the house, the super lovely cat lady just puts out an extra bowl of her own food. Great.

Then there's hope that the barbecue that we're planning for this afternoon will catch her attention..

But, no, we have to admit it: we are CLUELESS here.

PLEASE tell us... what would YOU do??