Stories

I always considered myself to be pretty street savvy. I didn’t need a home. I survived for years on my own.

I did what I needed to survive. I ate birds and rodents, even bugs sometimes. I scrounged for food wherever I could find it. I took pride in being self-sufficient.

I was never the biggest tom, but that didn’t stop me from trying. When those females were in heat, well, let’s just say, I wasn’t one to hang back. I got pretty beaten up along the way, but I didn’t let that stop me.

People didn’t want me around. They said I was a nuisance, digging in their gardens, trying to get into their trash, making their dogs bark. They chased me, threw rocks at me, sent their dogs after me. But I was fast and they never could catch me.

I thought I would never be caught. And I never was, not really.

One day, I was doing my thing, doing what I needed to survive, minding my own business, when something hit me. And right then, I heard a bang. And then my back legs stopped moving. I had been shot by a BB gun.

Well, just because you get shot and your legs stop working doesn’t mean you don’t get hungry, and it sure does make finding food harder. I dragged myself around to all of my usual places looking for food, but I couldn’t hunt anymore. I was getting very thin.

Then a strange lady decided to help me. You get to be a pretty good judge of people when you are living on the streets, and I pegged her as a softy. So I didn’t struggle too much when she put me into a carrier. I figured she would take me home and feed me.

Well, she did take me home, and I suppose she was going to feed me, but then she made a mistake - a big mistake. She let me loose in her house - with her cat. He was NOT pleased to have me there, to say the least, and picked a fight. That was a mistake - for him.

Just because you have been shot and your back legs don’t move doesn’t mean you can’t fight still. That cat picked the wrong guy to mess with. I showed him what was what. The lady tried to break us up, and I showed HER what was what too. I put her into the hospital.

I was ready to blow that joint, and would have if I had opposable thumbs. I was ready to drag myself right back out to the streets just as soon as a door opened. Unfortunately, or so it seemed at the time, the door was opened by a different sort of lady - one who knew street cats. She wrestled me into a carrier and took me to a veterinarian.

I got lucky then. The veterinarian thought that maybe, if he removed the BB pellet from my back, that I might be able to learn to walk again. And the savvy lady, the one who knew about street cats, said she wanted him to try. So he did.

After that was a LONG recovery. It seemed even longer because, well, I didn’t trust the savvy lady. After all, she didn’t let me go back out on the streets where I felt I belonged. It was weeks before I would let her touch me without resisting. And months before I could really walk right again.

By that time, I had decided that I was done with being a street cat. Just because I can catch food doesn’t mean I should. I mean, why go through the effort when the savvy lady will just give me food when I meow? Plus she scratches me behind my ears - you can’t find that on the streets. And that is how I became a house-cat.

Tyson was quite the street cat - not the sort you would expect to ever become a house cat. But several years later, a house cat he is, loving to be scratched around what is left of his battle-scarred ears.

If two cats are in a fight, do NOT try to separate them. You can be seriously injured. Cat bites often get infected, and hospital stays can result. Tyson did, indeed put his first rescuer into the hospital. The safest approach to a cat fight is to throw a heavy blanket over the combatants and hopefully, they will separate.

Unfortunately, animal cruelty is an issue in places with large populations of unwanted cats. Spaying and neutering can help keep the cat population low, reducing the likelihood of people taking out their frustrations on innocent cats.

All I had ever known was cold and hunger.

I am an autumn kitten, born in October. My littermates and I were OK at first - this autumn was mild. Mama was able to keep us warm enough to survive those first few weeks. But it kept getting colder. And colder.

Mama is a semi-feral cat. She is afraid of humans but counts on them for food. She doesn’t hunt very well, so she could not teach us. Someone tried to trap Mama once, but she got away, and now she knows what traps look like. And so she keeps on having kittens. Most of us die.

A kind person feeds Mama and her litters. Mama nursed us as long as she could. But growing kittens need a lot of food, even more, when it is cold. Despite Mama’s efforts and the kind person who feeds us, I was getting thinner and barely growing. I was so hungry and cold all of the time. I was sick too.

One day, I decided to take a chance. I ran inside the kind person’s house. I thought, maybe there will be more food in there for me to eat.

Everything was so strange inside. But it was WARM. I had never felt so warm before. The kind person fed me food and found other kind people to help me. They took me to a veterinarian to get medicine to make me feel better.

Now I am learning to live in a house with people. I am starting to gain weight. Because I am learning to trust people, I will live indoors in a forever home someday. I will not have to live outside. I will not have kittens of my own to die in the cold.

But my littermates, if any survive, are still outside. And it is winter.

For every lucky kitten who is rescued, there are many more that are not. The few that survive then repeat the cycle the following year. Trap-Neuter-Return programs reduce the number of kittens who are born each year. Fairborn TNR also rehomes cats and kittens when possible to further reduce the city’s stray and feral population.

Kittens born in spring will be having kittens of their own by autumn.

Please support Fairborn TNR.

This is the story of how I lost my first home then found my true forever human and forever home.

I didn’t know how good I had it in my first home. I lived in an apartment. I had food. I had water. I had a litter box. I even had some humans to keep me company. I just assumed, this was the way it should be, and it would always be this way.

Then things started changing. There were more boxes in the house - a LOT more boxes in the house. And there was crinkly paper - a LOT of paper, and when I ran and jumped on it, I slid around on the floor and the paper made such neat noises! It was cat heaven!

And then the boxes all got taken out of the apartment. And I was taken out of the apartment too. The boxes were put in a truck. But I was not. I was left behind.

No food. No water bowl. Outside, everything was different and everything and everyone was dangerous. Some of the humans would chase me and shout at me. I became scared of them.

And then there was Mean Tom. Mean Tom was a big, tough, male cat. He had been around a few years and had the scars to prove it. His scars were all on his front - he never ran from a fight and won every fight he was in. As far as he was concerned, all of the female cats belonged to him. I was definitely not welcome in his territory. But where else could I go?

I had to learn a lot of new things, like, where to find food. At first, I scrounged for food in the dumpsters, all the while watching for mean people and Mean Tom. Then, I found that there was a Nice Woman who put out food for cats who had lost their homes. She fed Mean Tom too, even though I don’t think he ever had a real home.

At first, I didn’t trust her - mean people chased me a lot, and I thought she might be one of them. And I could hear the dog inside of her apartment. But she never chased me. And she never let her dog chase me either. And when she was there, Mean Tom was afraid to come near the food, so I got more to eat. In time I came to trust her, and then to love her. I didn’t think twice when she started putting my food in a strange metal cage. I did notice that Mean Tom never ate the food in the metal cage, though.

But then, one day, I walked into the metal cage to eat my dinner, and it closed behind me. I was trapped! She had trapped me! Now I know why Mean Tom never went in the metal cage - he must have been trapped before.

I had thought she was a Nice Woman. Was I wrong about her?

The next few days went by in a confusing blur. There were cars and strange people and strange places and strange smells. And despite being in a scary place, I went to sleep, and when I woke up, I felt kind-of strange down there. You know, that place that feels kind-of interested in the female cats.

After that, life got a lot better. I was in a home again, with humans, food, and litter boxes. I came to realize that if I hadn’t been trapped, I would still be outside. The Nice Woman saved me when she trapped me. I decided to forgive her.

As time passed, I got used to being an inside cat again. I felt less like fighting the other male cats and more like cuddling them. I did miss the Nice Woman though, and I wondered if she was OK.

Then one day, a human put me into a cat carrier and we went on another car ride. I was very scared - what would happen at the end of the ride? More scary smells? More scary people? No more home?

Then the car stopped. I heard a voice that I knew coming from the house - it was the Nice Woman! The Nice Woman who fed me and trapped me and saved me! And now I live with her!

The other humans moved and left me. The Nice Woman moved so she could keep me. I have my forever home and my forever person. I am a very lucky cat.

Kit Cat can’t really tell us about his first home, but too often, cats become homeless when the owners move and leave them behind. He was not neutered, and his “unneutered male” behaviors may have contributed to him becoming homeless - we will never know for sure. What we do know is that he is a lucky cat - his Nice Woman not only got him neutered and into a foster home, but also adopted him when she was able to provide him a home.

Successful TNR activities require community involvement. Fairborn TNR depends on people like Nice Woman to identify cats in need of our help.

Please support Fairborn TNR.

I am skelton thin. I cannot see through the infection in my eyes. I can barely breath. I am dying.

I crawl onto something soft - a bag of leaves I think. The softness does little to ease my pain. Sometimes, I hear trains go by. Sometimes, I hear children playing. I miss my home.

I hear children coming closer. Maybe once I would have run in fear of strangers, but now I am too weak to even be frightened. Maybe they won't see me.

I think they do see me. They are talking quickly, like children do. I hear the concern in their voices. They come closer. They are speaking softly now, like they don't want to scare me.

They oh-so-gently pick up the bag I am on and begin to carry me. They cover me with something warm - a coat? I wonder, where are they taking me? Maybe they want to give me a new home. I wish I could tell them it is too late.

I think we are at a house now. They are talking to a grown up, a woman. She brings me inside where it is warm, carrying me carefully like the children did. She cries as she strokes my fur and wipes my face. She touches my collar and cries more.

Now I am going somewhere, in a car, I think. I hear a man crying softly. And now I am in another building. I don’t think it is a house. Another man is talking to me in a kind voice. He is touching me gently. I wish I had the strength to raise my head and rub against his hand, like I would in the home I used to have. I wish I could say thank you to the people who have been kind to me today, when I am dying.

I feel a small prick on my leg, just a little one. And now my pain is going away at last.

Calico was a young cat who should have had many more years of life. We know she had a home once since she had a collar. Perhaps she was lost or perhaps she was abandoned. Once she was homeless, she was ill-equipped to survive on her own.

When you see a stray cat, remember, the cat did not choose to be a stray, and be kind. Help them if you can.

Please support Fairborn TNR.

My name should be Arthur. I am the once and future king.

It isn’t easy to become king of a cat colony. You have to be big. You have to be strong. You have to be willing to take on every challenger and win every time.

I am big, I am strong. I have taken on more challengers than you can count. My face is covered with scars. Both of my ears have been torn completely off. But still I win. After many, many years, still I am king.

I am the king, and all the females in the colony are my queens. I have fathered more kittens than any other cat around. I drive the other toms away from my queens. And as long as my queens stay faithful, I let their kittens live. That is what it is to be king.

But there was a time when I thought my time as king was drawing to an end. And for a while, I was not king.

Time stops for no one. I was born with a birth defect - a hernia. As I got older, it began to hurt a great deal. When you are king, you cannot show weakness. To prove I was still strong, still the king, I began attacking the other colony cats, even my queens. I even chased away the humans that bring us food to prove I was afraid of nothing, still strong, still unconquerable. That is when they gave me the name “Demon”.

One day, the humans did something different. They began to give us our food in metal cages. No matter - food is food, or so I thought, right up until the day that the metal cages shut and we were trapped.

And then I was not king.

I lived in a cage for a very long time. People fed me food and gave me water. They brought me strange places with strange smells and strange people. They did things that made my stomach stop hurting from the hernia. Gradually, my pain went away. I never started liking people though.

And then one day, I became king again. They brought me back to my colony. All of my queens were there. So were the other toms - the ones I am always having to drive away from my queens. Somehow their presence didn’t bother me though.

My queens remembered me still. When they saw me, they came up to me and rubbed against me. Their king had returned.

Since then, the colony seems so much more pleasant. The other toms no longer challenge me. I have even become friends with some of them. The queens no longer have kittens to distract them. And I am still king.

Demon is a semi-feral cat who is responsible for a large number of black cats in Fairborn having a distinct red tint. He was unusually old for a dominant male when he was trapped and neutered - we estimate around 10 years old. He is still enjoying life in his colony, and since he no longer feels the need to fight the other males, is likely to live several more years.

A properly managed cat colony can greatly reduce the problems associated with a large feral and stray population. When the cats in a colony are all spayed and neutered, there is far less fighting within the colony and less roaming by the males through the surrounding neighborhoods. Providing healthcare to colony cats on an as-needed basis reduces the transmission of disease to beloved family pets. Well-fed colony cats are less likely to harm songbirds and other wildlife. As the colony members are known and recognized, newcomers can more easily be identified, trapped, and spayed/neutered.

Please support Fairborn TNR.

The other cats say I am a bad mother. I don’t know what they are talking about. I take my kittens to the colony food place and leave them there. They have food, right? So what if they are only 4 weeks old? It isn’t like I wanted to have kittens. It just happens. I get rid of them just as soon as I can. After all, I will have another litter soon enough. They just keep coming.

Other than the kittens that I don’t really want, I love my life. There is this place in the colony where I can get food, if I am careful. It has plenty of bushes around to hide my latest litter. There are interesting toms around too, but not so many that they kill my kittens. The only problem is, there are people. People mean trouble. People try to trap me.

I was trapped once, and I say, never again. I know what those metal cages mean. The food inside may smell nice, but once you are in, they close. And then you are trapped. You can’t get away for a long time, if ever. I was trapped once - I know.

Even though I only have one eye, I know what to look for. Anything strange or new in the colony could be a new trap. I am smart. I am careful. I will not be trapped

I have watched other cats get trapped. The toms are so foolish - they smell the food and walk right in. And then the trap closes and they yowl and yowl. The people come and get them and take them away. When they bring them back, the toms don’t smell like toms anymore. They stop being interested in my smell when I am in heat. But they stop threatening my kittens too. I don’t care that the colony toms aren’t interested in me - I can always find an interested tom somewhere else.

The other queens are more cautious than the toms but sometimes they get trapped too. And when they come back, they don’t make the interesting smell that gets the toms all excited, they don’t go into heat. They don’t have kittens any more either. I think I am the only queen left in this colony that is having kittens. I think I would like to stop having kittens too, but I am never, ever going into that trap.

Unfortunately, Dos is an extremely trap-savvy feral, and we have not been able to trap her after 4 years of trying. She has 3 litters a year, which is not uncommon in cats. She is a very poor mother - 4 weeks is far too early to wean kittens. We have saved many of her kittens and gotten them into rescues and adoptive homes, but many die before we find them.

We suspect that someone trapped Dos early in her life and just let her loose. Perhaps she was caught in a live trap meant for nuisance animals. Regardless, once a cat is trapped, it is very difficult to trap them again. If you trap a feral cat that is not ear-tipped, please try to get them altered immediately. SICSA and the Human Societies will try to squeeze you in. You can also reach out to us or rescues for help, although most rescues cannot handle true feral cats. Do not let the cat out of the trap if at all possible.

We will continue to try to trap Dos in those periods between when she abandons one litter of kittens and gives birth to the next. Maybe we will have better luck this year.

Please support Fairborn TNR.