Do You Know an Exceptional Stray?

I'd worked at my local humane society for about a year when I first met George. We were situated in a weird part of town, just between the country and local tourist attractions, so very often we got the strays caught by amusement parks and unwanted barn cats. George came in one day in a trap, dumped off by someone looking to rid their yard of cats. There really wasn't anything special about him at first-- we tested him for FIV, gave him his shots and dewormed him, then we put him in a cage and he promptly tore the insides to bits. He quickly shredded any signs that were attached to the outside of his cage, and the next morning I had the nerve-wracking job of cleaning out a completely ransacked cage that still had a feral cat in the back corner.

However I quickly learned that George was different. George and I had a friendship from his second day, when he sat very quietly at the back of his cage and let me clean it out. I didn't need gloves or a net or a dozen curse-words like with most of the ferals. I simply cleaned him out and closed the cage and George didn't move. The next morning his cage was completely destroyed and I again cleaned it out with George sitting at the back watching me.

We did this dance for about two weeks, until I finally made the decision that I was going to touch George. I told my co-workers that he'd never hissed or made any sort of warning sign and I wanted to see what he'd do. They watched through the window in the closed door as I reached back and touched George on his pink nose. He didn't move. I scratched the bridge of his nose for a second and closed the door.

We went through this ritual for a few days, George in his corner getting his nose scratched. He never growled, hissed, or tried to escape. Every day I dutifully cleaned out his cage, gave him some treats, scratched his nose and left him alone. Every night he did backflips and shredded his newspaper, spilled his litter, and ate any nametag we left on the front door.

Until one morning when I came in, and George hadn't torn up the place. I distinctly remember staring at him through the bars of his cage and knowing that today was the day we were going to be friends. He watched me with his unblinking stare as I opened his cage door and sat down in front of him. I scratched his pink nose, and slowly moved up to his head. George remained perfectly still. I wrapped my hand around and rubbed his back. I continued petting him for a few seconds until a low rumbling purr came out of his throat.

My George, the acrobat and cage-destroyer, rolled onto his side and stretched. George, the big tomcat who no one else would clean, was rolling over and moving closer to me to get his head scratched. I couldn't help but laugh. "Margaret!" I yelled to my coworker down the hall, "I'm going to put George in the cat room!" Our cat room was a sunroom where we let 10-15 cats live until they were adopted.

Margaret came running.

"You're going to WHAT?" She looked incredulous. I pointed to George, on his back in his spotless cage.

"He's a real cat now!" I laughed. Margaret didn't trust George, but I carried him to the sunroom. The second I sat him down, George meowed what I can only presume was a "thank you" and immediately went up to the other cats. He was sniffed and quickly ignored, acceptance. George curled up next to the window, snuggling another cat who was nice enough to ignore his extremely loud purring.

Now, George is a staple in the cat room. When the door opens, he comes ambling up to be pet and kisses your arm as you rub his back. He's grown a beautiful white and brown tabby coat and actually plays with toys! George is one of my very favorite cats at the shelter and not a day goes by when I can't see how appreciative that he is that we took the time to let him be a normal cat instead of a feral stray. This fall, George will be moving with me to whereever I end up (still waiting to hear from a few Masters' programs!) and I can't wait to have him as part of my family.


I wanted to post one here just so maybe we'll all share some of our stray stories! If you can't use it, don't worry, I just like talking about George. I tend to ramble, so sorry it's so long! (If it needs to be shorter, let me know and I'll make an abridged version!)

What a beautiful story marycatherine.

I have two stories. The first is how we acquired our Dusty.

I don't know exactly when we began noticing that a cat had taken up residence on our patio furniture, but I don't know who was more afraid when I went outside and the cat jumped off the chair and bolted over the fence. I got into the habit of looking on the patio chairs before I went outside, but every time she ran off. I did notice that she was wearing a collar (but no tag), so assumed that she was just comfortable sleeping on our patio chairs and had a loving home. Weeks and months went by, and one day around Christmas my husband (who never liked cats) noticed that she was licking the barbecue grill. He decided that she looked hungry, and went rummaging through the refrigerator to find something to give her. All we had was old lunch meat and some cheese. He put it in a bowl and we watched her gobble it up from inside the house.

The next day I held out a piece of cheese and she crept up and took it from my hand as I gently petted the top of her head with my other hand. That was it. My husband coaxed her into the house and I was sent on a grocery run to buy catfood!

Dusty has been the most affectionate cat I've ever known. She isn't playful, but she will curl up with me at night with her head on my arm. She is the best kitty kisser I've ever seen, rubbing her forehead against my lips.

A few months ago we moved across town to a new house. I was afraid that she would run away looking for her old digs, but nope. She has adjusted nicely to our home, even when she had to stay inside while the workers were pouring a patio in the back. She is by far the best kitty I've ever had. Ever day she shows her gratitude for being rescued from a life on the streets.

The second story was told to me by a poster on another form who goes by the nic of "Observer."

Observer had a female feral living in her neighborhood for some time, and this cat had at least 2 litters. Observer tried on several occasions to trap the cat so she could be spayed, but every attempt failed. But Observer, being the kind soul that she is, fed this cat on a regular basis by leaving food and water on her porch.

One day Observer watched the mama cat come near the porch. She had a gray kitten in her mouth. The little kitten was about 2 weeks old. Observer watched as the mama cat approached and dropped the kitten on the porch, then quietly retreated to the nearby bushes where she could watch. Observer went out to the porch and picked up the kitten. She immediately noticed the kitten had a deformed back leg and would never be able to walk normally.

Once the mama cat saw that Observer had picked up her kitten, she went back to her nest, presumably to care for the rest of her litter. This mama cat knew that without help her deformed baby would die, and rather than do what most animals of unhealthy or deformed young do, and push it away to starve to death, she found help in a compassionate human. Today that kitten has grown into an adult cat who is still loved and pampered by Observer!

Dh called me at work to tell me there was a stray kitten at the tattoo shop that they did not know what to do with. He had been working on a customer, looked up at the window, and there was an adorable little fuzzy kitten with her paws on the glass peering in at them. It was Christmas Eve, and a particularly cold evening. After the customers were gone, he and his coworker stepped out for a smoke. Kitty was sitting under the bench, but ran off to peek around the corner at them. After a few minutes, she came up and sat in front of them, as if checking to see if they would hurt or chase her. They were worried about her being loose so close to the highway, and Bitt, the coworker, asked how they were going to catch her since they did not want to leave her to possibly get hit. Dh said they were not going to catch her, she was going to come to him. Sure enough, he put his hand down, she sniffed it, and allowed him to pick her up. She crawled inside his jacket, snuggled next to his chest and went to sleep. He sat outside in the cold with her inside his jacket for 2 hours until I came for her. She very politely got in the car, sat in the passenger seat and rode home with me. When I mentioned finding her a home a few days later, dh did not look too happy. When I actually found her a home, he refused to let her go. She had purred her way into his heart and she is still his baby girl 5 years later. His little Fluffy.

I would love to do it about Billy as he was in a terrible state when we got him and very nervous, he took alot of work and persuading as he has dietary needs, he is now part of our family, very lovable and when I took him to get him nuetured it turned out he is a full pedigree British Blue, not that that matters we would love him all the same no matter what breed he was but it feels even more special. I just haven't got alot of time with the house move, I ahve some fab piccies of him though he is a right poser.

My stray stories are not complete without how I got my darling Fred.
We came home from working out of town and as I got out of the truck, I heard a kitten crying. We looked around until we finally looked up, and there was a scrawny yellow tabby kitten, howling his little head off. We pulled the truck up, dh stood on the hood, and coaxed him down with a piece of turkey. He stayed inside overnight, and the next day I looked all over for his home. I found out he had possibly been born to a stray at the nearby apartment complex. I went home, wondering what to do with him, he jumped out of my arms and ran off. I figured he went back to his mom. A few hours later, I heard banging on my front AND back screen doors. I checked the front, and there was the yellow kitten, hanging by his claws, making the door bang. I checked the back, and there was another yellow kitten banging there. The first one had gone and gotten his brother. They were Fred and Mister Kitty. They were my first resident cats. 7 years later Mister Kitty decided to go live with an elderly gentleman down the street, and Fred was my constant companion for 18 years.

This is such a wonderful story!

Amazing!!!