Four and a half years ago, a black and gray striped feral cat allowed me to befriend him. I fed him each day, and gradually he allowed me to sit right beside him. He loved it when I talked to him and sang to him, and I made a special song just for him. He loved nature and his freedom to run through the patch of woods around my block. He loved my porch, but didn't want to come into my house.
Six months into our friendship, I trapped him and brought him into a spare room in my house. I did not yet know the difference between feral and stray, and thought I could get him adjusted in my house first before getting him neutered. He climbed the walls and windows and was miserable, and I couldn't get him back into a trap to get him to the vet. A mobile vet came and climbed a ladder (he scaled the windows and got caught on the curtain rod), and gave him a rabies vaccine. After three days confined inside, I let him back out. He came back that evening for food as usual and forgave me for his ordeal. I was never able to trap him again.
Through the years, Muffin matured from a spirited little cat who chased other cats and squirrels and opossum for fun (he never killed birds or hurt any wildlife except for an occasional rodent) into a very kind and considerate cat. One day he proudly brought his girlfriend to my porch and shared his food bowl with her. He loved this cat and the two of them were inseparable. My neighbor, A., fell in love with this kitty so we trapped her and A. took her into her house and socialized her and named her Prissy. The following summer, 3 years ago, Muffin brought three kittens to my porch. He loved those kittens--he protected them, played with them, and made sure I took care of them even after their mama cat left the area. A. and I trapped all three, and she took two of them and I took the one who looked just like Muffin. I named him Harry Muffin Jr. Muffin missed his kittens, but he knew they were with me and A. Harry and Muffin continued to look at each other through the windows between my sunroom from his porch through the years. Harry is very much adjusted to indoor life and is very loving and affectionate. Muffin was a much better papa than many human papas I know.
I purchased a cedar pet house for Muffin and placed it on my porch. Eventually there would be a heating pad in there. He loved that house more than anything. He snuggled inside that house during sub zero weather, and allowed me to drape both exits with a heavy sleeping bag for extra warmth during the harshest weather. He knew I would chase off raccoons and other wildlife that came onto the porch and that I would protect him. He trusted me and knew he was loved. He never wanted A. or I to touch him, though, he wanted to keep his feral nature and not be domesticated.
Through the years I've pulled Muffin through a serious URI and eye infection, a foot injury, infected scratches, and other ailments. I was always able to get antibiotics in his food, and he always came to me for help and understood that I would "fix" him. I've always been able to help him when he's been hurt. Until a few days ago. He developed an infection in his mouth, most likely an abscessed tooth. I was unable to get antibiotics in him because he stopped eating and drinking. He was very hungry and kept trying to eat. Yesterday morning he looked seriously ill. A. threw a blanket over him and got him into a carrier, and I took him to the ER vet.
I was so happy. Muffin was going to get all the help he needed, and get neutered, too. He could continue to live outside, or have the option of being an indoor/outdoor cat. It was a dream come true. Then I got the call from the vet that he had tested positive for FIV. She advised euthanasia and said he would have a future of suffering. I am still struggling with my decision to allow them to euthanize him, and A. and I feel we betrayed his trust by trapping him and sending him to his death. But I know I couldn't bring him into my house and risk infecting my others cats, and that he would have hated being confined to a room by himself in my house. And I know that if I let him back outdoors he would continue to get infections and that I wouldn't always be able to help him or get him to the vet. I couldn't bear that thought, though I wonder if maybe he might have had another few good years. So I will be questioning myself for some time to come.
I'm heartbroken. I've lost my soul friend. We had a bond I've had with no other cat. For the first time yesterday, as I lay his body in a grave in my back yard, I finally got to pet his silky fur. I pray he is at peace now. For the past four and a half years I've been getting up at daybreak to feed him, and many nights waited up late for him to appear on my porch. My entire life routine is changed now. I know I will get through this, but I just don't know how. My entire block of neighbors loved and cared for him, and it will not be the same without his beautiful presence. I will miss sitting beside him on my porch, sometimes in tears when life was too hard, and telling him all my secrets. I may never have another friend like him. I am very grateful to have his son, Harry, and his daughter, Mia, to love and care for, and every time I look at Harry's face, I see Muffin.
This first picture is of Harry. The rest are of my beloved Muffin.
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Six months into our friendship, I trapped him and brought him into a spare room in my house. I did not yet know the difference between feral and stray, and thought I could get him adjusted in my house first before getting him neutered. He climbed the walls and windows and was miserable, and I couldn't get him back into a trap to get him to the vet. A mobile vet came and climbed a ladder (he scaled the windows and got caught on the curtain rod), and gave him a rabies vaccine. After three days confined inside, I let him back out. He came back that evening for food as usual and forgave me for his ordeal. I was never able to trap him again.
Through the years, Muffin matured from a spirited little cat who chased other cats and squirrels and opossum for fun (he never killed birds or hurt any wildlife except for an occasional rodent) into a very kind and considerate cat. One day he proudly brought his girlfriend to my porch and shared his food bowl with her. He loved this cat and the two of them were inseparable. My neighbor, A., fell in love with this kitty so we trapped her and A. took her into her house and socialized her and named her Prissy. The following summer, 3 years ago, Muffin brought three kittens to my porch. He loved those kittens--he protected them, played with them, and made sure I took care of them even after their mama cat left the area. A. and I trapped all three, and she took two of them and I took the one who looked just like Muffin. I named him Harry Muffin Jr. Muffin missed his kittens, but he knew they were with me and A. Harry and Muffin continued to look at each other through the windows between my sunroom from his porch through the years. Harry is very much adjusted to indoor life and is very loving and affectionate. Muffin was a much better papa than many human papas I know.
I purchased a cedar pet house for Muffin and placed it on my porch. Eventually there would be a heating pad in there. He loved that house more than anything. He snuggled inside that house during sub zero weather, and allowed me to drape both exits with a heavy sleeping bag for extra warmth during the harshest weather. He knew I would chase off raccoons and other wildlife that came onto the porch and that I would protect him. He trusted me and knew he was loved. He never wanted A. or I to touch him, though, he wanted to keep his feral nature and not be domesticated.
Through the years I've pulled Muffin through a serious URI and eye infection, a foot injury, infected scratches, and other ailments. I was always able to get antibiotics in his food, and he always came to me for help and understood that I would "fix" him. I've always been able to help him when he's been hurt. Until a few days ago. He developed an infection in his mouth, most likely an abscessed tooth. I was unable to get antibiotics in him because he stopped eating and drinking. He was very hungry and kept trying to eat. Yesterday morning he looked seriously ill. A. threw a blanket over him and got him into a carrier, and I took him to the ER vet.
I was so happy. Muffin was going to get all the help he needed, and get neutered, too. He could continue to live outside, or have the option of being an indoor/outdoor cat. It was a dream come true. Then I got the call from the vet that he had tested positive for FIV. She advised euthanasia and said he would have a future of suffering. I am still struggling with my decision to allow them to euthanize him, and A. and I feel we betrayed his trust by trapping him and sending him to his death. But I know I couldn't bring him into my house and risk infecting my others cats, and that he would have hated being confined to a room by himself in my house. And I know that if I let him back outdoors he would continue to get infections and that I wouldn't always be able to help him or get him to the vet. I couldn't bear that thought, though I wonder if maybe he might have had another few good years. So I will be questioning myself for some time to come.
I'm heartbroken. I've lost my soul friend. We had a bond I've had with no other cat. For the first time yesterday, as I lay his body in a grave in my back yard, I finally got to pet his silky fur. I pray he is at peace now. For the past four and a half years I've been getting up at daybreak to feed him, and many nights waited up late for him to appear on my porch. My entire life routine is changed now. I know I will get through this, but I just don't know how. My entire block of neighbors loved and cared for him, and it will not be the same without his beautiful presence. I will miss sitting beside him on my porch, sometimes in tears when life was too hard, and telling him all my secrets. I may never have another friend like him. I am very grateful to have his son, Harry, and his daughter, Mia, to love and care for, and every time I look at Harry's face, I see Muffin.
This first picture is of Harry. The rest are of my beloved Muffin.
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View media item 214053
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Ferals are very special, and the bond you form with them is strong, despite not being able to stroke and cuddle them. Your story of his girlfriend and his adopted kittens doesn't surprise me. Ferals seem so much better at developing relationships with other cats. It's so sad that he was FIV+ and an infection did him in. May he rest in peace and never be forgotten.
