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??

on the move

So, I guess you're all on tenterhooks to know what's happening with the kittens, aren't you?  You must be.  I would be.  I think.  Unless I was having more of a 'dog' day.  Or was busy doing lesson prep or something.

Anyway, I can confirm that yes, I do have kitten news for you, but you're going to have to wait to get it!  First, today's story, set in the competitive world of kitty real estate and construction, must be endured!

Our tale begins, as you know, with one small bundle of wisteria cuttings. Great old admirable eco home.  Sustainable.  Free.  All that jazz.  Funny thing is, leaves are not as simple a construction material as first appearance suggests. Quite apart from their prickly-when-dry nature, scoot around on them too much with your pushing, shoving and clawing to get at mum's belly, and they soon get swept out from under you.  Exposing cold, unforgiving concrete.

Teatowel or no teatowel, within a day or two, House One was 'ideal home' no more.  Time to move on.

Now, it's worth remembering at this juncture that, in fashioning House One, Agatha had done the best she could with rather limited means.  Cosy safe spots don't tend to be reserved for snotty stray runts round these parts. There are people building in back yards, teretorial toms, howling hounds, scowling senhoras, careering cars... you get the picture.  Quiet as it may seem, it's actually a fairly inhospitable landscape for new cats, this neighbourhood.  If we weren't careful, Agatha was going to move the whole family to a far less secure spot, so we decided human intervention was most definitely the order of the day.  The front 'garden' was looking quite a disgrace, anyway.  It had long since needed attention.  Why not convert it into a nursery?

A camoflagued cardboard box, with soft towel lining, straw all around and a pretty red sunshade (streetcombed in Madrid - I swear, it's amazing the stuff people chuck out) sat staring her in the face.  How could she resist? Thankfully, the litter got moved into House Two the very next night.

And yet, before long, we could see it becoming harder and harder for her to contain the little explorers within its small walls.  Another assessment of the housing market was in order.

House Three, we'll get to in a minute.

House Four was another Hobo-assembled offering.  It needed to be bigger this time, so I had scaled it up.  And got a bit carried away in the process.

That doorway-cum-entrance hall is WAY too exposed - how is a cat supposed to keep an eye on comings and goings?  No chance!  I almost heard her snub.  I had carelessly lost sight of my client's needs.  She didn't even give it a second glance.  I was heart-broken.  Vaguely consoled, however, when our finicky siamese continued to shun House Three:

the expensive but characterless, mass produced, plastic alternative that our lovely local cat woman had insisted I take on the second day.  It was going spare, she said.  And she obviously didn't think much of my DIY efforts, the first of which I had proudly unveiled only seconds before.

So, where could the cats happily move to, do you think?

Before we get our answer, a customary twist in the tale!

I've been on (and on, and on) at you about voting in the poll to give NoName Fluffball a moniker, I know, but I hereby officially back off and leave you be.  The poll's closed, it's true, but in any case, recent events force me to be more forgiving of those who don't want to get too close.  Because I can well understand the sentiment.  Getting involved sets you up for loss, doesn't it?  Getting involved means emotional upheaval when, for example, a routine Sunday evening kitten check...  might reveal... something like...

... an empty House Two.  

Or worse (what actually happened)... one sole kitten, mewing on her own.

Oh, the panic!  The desperation!  The sheer powerlessness!

We knew that, much to Agatha's annoyance, Ginger had been on excursions outside the nest before.  At those times, a reckie on our part would reveal one cat and two kittens in the box, with mewing coming from a little way off.  Having things this way round - Ginger and her mewing still contained within the box but noone else visible - had us dumbfounded.  Had she pushed her mum one step too far? Put the litter at risk with her recklessness? Had she been abandoned?

Our hearts in our throats, we quickly ran through the possibilities.  House One was long since forgotten, and a scan of Houses Three and Four returned no joy. It was dusk and getting darker by the second.  The mews were sounding more and more forlorn.  Think, Hobo!  What can we do?  What should we do?!

Thankfully, it came quite soon.

A rustle. A growl. A hiss.  We had interrupted the family mid-move, and Agatha, keen to collect her last charge, was getting agitated at our proximity.  Phew.  A happy ending.  Almost.

The whole clan has been safely installed in Abode Five (we can't call it a House  for reasons which will become clear) for five days or so now.  They seem happy enough.  Mum keeps eating, three bundles keep tumbling around.  The big difference being, they now do it out of sight, and very, very well contained.  They currently reside just about  HERE.

Never mind the huge rosebush stem.  Pickly is obviously de rigueur.

Until the rains come, then...!
;)

sustainable housing - nature's way!

With the fresh start of a new school year upon us, it is clearly time to write you a post, to finally start taking this blog thing seriously.
And what better way to kick off afresh than with a story?
I reckon I've got quite a good 'un on my hands, and with any luck (and maybe a little help from you, dear reader) the weeks to come may even provide it with a happy ending.

To set the scene a little, ten days ago we returned home after a week's camping in the Alentejo (which was very lovely indeed). This story starts just before we left, when Nascimento and Mario across the street pointed out that our wisteria could really use a trim (couldn't it always?!) as it was tickling passers by on the pavement...

Well you can't ignore good neighbourly 'advice' like that, least of all when you're trying to be a good ambassador for your country, so, along with the epic task of pruning and re-supporting the rose tree in the back garden (which had pretty much collapsed after someone had cut the fantastic chinese lantern plant away from the other side of the fence) ((luckily some of our own physalis have sprung up and are doing very well)), I hastily hacked away at the wisteria out front, leaving the cuttings in a scooped-up pile just to the side of our front door. We were a bit pressed for time that morning, but I'd be sure to add them to the compost when our holidays were over.
We loaded up the hire car and off we went.
Well, after the epic Easycar/Guerin creditcard/insurance deposit nightmare, that is, but that story's for another time.

On our return from the wilds of Portugal, we noticed that the whirl of dead wisteria cuttings had been hollowed out into a cosy little nest. "Ha-ha!" - we thought - "Cheeky Charlie (our adopted cat friend who we sometimes feed and always talk about, but who is really a feral lone wolf and never quite lets us stroke him) has made himself a new den and will be living even closer by than ever! Sweet!"
And yet, happy as he was to see us (or at least, to be fed), laze around our garden and explore the house a little once more, he never went near the thing. "Must've got too dry and crunchy - a little too prickly for him to lie on, now", I thought.

Not so.

For last Monday morn, upon waking and opening the front door, a very different face greeted us from within the snug. We'd seen her around before, this slinky chestnut siamese, but only occasionally, and only from a distance. She's so beautiful we'd never imagined she could be a street cat, but as the neighbours have since filled us in, her owner died a few years ago and she's not had a home since. She has, however, had several litters, they say.

...Or, rather, several OTHER litters!

For tumbling about with her and periodically mewing in quite the highest pitches you can imagine (to remind you of their adorableness) were three tiny wee fluffballs: one ginger, one black, and one grey and white!

Much as I admired her choice of waste-sourced (a litter in the litter!), sustainable (believe me, that wisteria grows at a rate of knots!) home, I was, of course, much more taken with her gorgeous little bundles of squeak :)

They have already provided us with smiles and stories aplenty (watch this space) and have given me a good few creative projects to work on, too (again, watch this space).

We're so happy the new neighbours moved in! Here's a video taster of the little beasties in action.

Introductions (for they've almost all got names..) will follow in the next post, so stay tuned.

In the meantime, I'd love to hear your stories of unexpected (baby?) animal encounters!  If you've got one, why not leave a comment below?