It happens this way …
My local friends are probably tired hearing about the anxiety I’ve been feeling — not about important issues like the virus or riots — but about the appearance of a feral momma cat and her two kitties in our side yard two weeks ago.
Feral cats are nothing new in our neighborhood. We’ve banded together over the years to have them fixed so they won’t populate the earth. However, the cycle of birth and rebirth has started again. We have three traps in our backyard ready to be set as soon as the kittens have been weaned. How will we know when? I have no idea.
Interestingly, the momma which we call Dahlia — as in Black Dahlia — was a kitten herself a bit more than a year ago. Her momma who lives next door also had kittens recently, so we have all these generations running around. Our intent is to find homes for the kitties and have the mommas fixed. But to catch them when they’re here one day and gone the next is crazy-making.
I’ve had to practice letting go and giving control back to Mother Nature. Cats will do what cats will do and, while we have their best interest at heart, we’re not in charge.
As for why I don’t own pets, here’s a poem that captures my history with them.
Love’s Labor’s Lost or Why I Don’t Own Pets
into our bamboo shades.
The horny lizard’s
in their hazy bowl,
its down side up.
dad booted out
the lab who
his cabbage soup.
The speckled mutt
away the next.
A droop-face cop
our summer yard
two frothing pups.
I fall in love
I applaud all you pet-lovers and -keepers. You have a vocation that requires commitment and love. This vocation is not mine this lifetime. However, I will do my best by the ferals. That’s the least I can offer the critters of the earth.