Hunter, his mom Sarah and sister Layla
Below: Sarah
This blog is fond memories of some of the cats we’ve known and loved. For me, it began in childhood, and expanded more in the past couple of decades, as we’ve taken care of so many community cats. These memories won’t be in any particular order… just favorites that pop up as they do.
This first one is about a little guy by the name of Hunter. His story begins with his mom Sarah – a gentle lady with long blue-gray hair. She lived in a neighbor’s garage, and apparently had a number of friends on her route. We noticed her fur getting a bit matted and dirty that winter, and I’d planned to trim some knotted fur I noticed on her chest, but the next chance I got, someone else had shaved off that knot.
We’d made plans to have Sarah and a couple of other neighborhood cats spayed/neutered, and I set our large trap out back – though Sarah was one you could pick up and cuddle. When I brought the cage in, Sarah just looked sad, a little worried, so I reached in to pet and calm her. Her fur was long enough to conceal the tummy lumps I felt that evening, and I suddenly knew what that look of hers meant. Any fetal kittens would be aborted, and I just couldn’t do that to her. I let her go out back, and fibbed about being unable to catch her.
Subsequently, she’d stop by for a quick meal, then take off in a hurry to nurse her babies. After enough weeks had passed, Sarah proudly led her two gorgeous babies to our feeding station for a meal. The two kittens apparently had a Siamese father – and both were just beautiful. The boy had a black nose and the girl a pink nose, so that’s what I called them at first. The male took up position between his mother and sister when I fed them – his fierce scowl, his intense blue eyes and low growl let me know in no uncertain terms, that I was not to go near his mom or sister while they were eating. He needed a name to match his attitude, so I decided to call him Hunter. We picked Layla for his sister.
As is often the case, the offspring of a friendly are understandably cautious, and Layla was as stand-offish to us as Hunter was fierce. Layla, though, quickly became best friends with our small Tuxedo, Bailey. Bailey was small for his age, he’d been neutered, and he had lost his left-rear leg to an accident. His personality, though, is larger than life, and he and Layla quickly became besties. Layla would rub against the back door and call for Bailey, until we’d let him out, and they’d romp in the back yard and hang out together.
I noticed two things about Hunter I decided to exploit: he loved his treats, especially Temptations – and, while chowing down on them, if I approached him from behind, I could give Hunter a gentle head rub, which he’d really get into. Now, if he saw my hand approaching from the front, even if it was full of treats, Hunter would give out with a low growl, and he’d take a swipe at me, nicking my hand if I wasn’t fast enough withdrawing it. Hunter and Layla both would step inside our kitchen door when they wanted treats or Bailey – but Layla would go out of her mind if I closed the door – once scrambling up the wall so fast she hit the ceiling. I had to leave the door open for her. Hunter wasn’t as intimidated by the door, but he attacked my approaching hand enough I’d pretty much accepted he wasn’t going to warm up to me, though I still gave him a head rub whenever he’d allow it, usually after his mom and sister had finished eating, and I lured him with some treats.
Then, one day there was an epiphany for the both of us. Hunter devoured his snacks, and I reached down to rub his head, when he turned and saw my hand, and raised his right paw, claws extended, to take a swipe at me – then, he froze for a long moment, and looked at my hand, and then at my face – suddenly, his eyes softened, and he gently lowered his paw.
The look on Hunter’s face just said it all – melting from fierce to friendly. Putting words to feelings, it was as if he said to me – “All this time with that hand of yours, all you wanted to do was to rub my head? Well, we can be friends!”
In those moments, he transformed from a fierce, protective feral to a pal who likes to curl up in my lap and sleep. Why I’ve got a cuddle buddy named Hunter.
Bailey and Layla
Below: Hunter
