Confessions of a Cat Breeder

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Cat Portraits of Caring:

The Cat in the Woods   


At work I was known as the resident cat lover. I guess my passion for felines didn't escape even those co-workers whom I thought to be a little distant and shallow.

I was working in the staff lounge one morning, arranging material for employees, when Sherry came in to start the coffee. Although we didn't care much for each other's company, we always maintained an aura of decorum. This week, it was Sherry's turn to keep the lounge in order, so I knew she would be in the room for a while. I decided to remain and make the best of an awkward situation.

Sherry was divorced, and had an 8 year old daughter, whom she saw several times a year. She preferred the social life of a single person, and had given up custody of her daughter to the child's father. She was an attractive woman who liked fast cars, fast men, exotic vacations and the bar scene. We shared nothing in common, as I was too sensitive and engrossed in my own conflict of choosing between furthering my career, which was finally showing promise, and having children of my own.

I thought then that Sherry had probably made the right decision, since she often seemed limited in compassion towards others in the office. To give up an only child was incomprehensible to me, but with age comes wisdom. As the years have passed, and I've experienced more of life, I have a better understanding of her parental decision. Sherry was wise enough to know her own limitations, and that maternal self-sacrifice was not a part of her nature.

She was busy for a few minutes and then turned to face me. She hesitated for several seconds, before she spoke, as if showing some concern that she may be disturbing me. As I remember it now, this was the only time, without other staff members present, that she sought me out to start a conversation.

"I had something strange happen to me this weekend," she began, "and I thought you might be able to tell me what it all meant."

I realized she was truly concerned, and I indicated that I wanted to listen. As the coffee brewed, she came over and started helping with my work. She was not known to enjoy working, and freely volunteering like this was definitely out of character.

She started by saying that she and her boyfriend had just returned from a camping trip over the long weekend. About an hour before they had planned to return home, her boyfriend left the campsite to load their van. Sherry was relaxing and smoking a cigarette, sitting with her back against a large tree, when something very unusual happened.

Speaking quietly, she said, "I heard a noise behind me and turned to see this skinny, dirty cat a few feet away. The cat and I just stared at each other for a few moments, and then it started crying loudly at me. I turned away, and tried to ignore it for several minutes. I was hoping it would get the message that I'm not a 'cat person' and just get lost." Sherry did not want to become involved, and definitely was not in the mood to rescue someone's lost pet.

The cat's howling intensified, so Sherry turned to face the feline again. Finally, she fished through her backpack, searching for the last of their weekend rations. Opening a small tin of luncheon meat, she reluctantly rose to her feet and placed it a few feet from the thin, desolate cat. The feline watched her cautiously, but always remained at a safe distance. Sherry could see that the cat was hungry, as it drooled just with the smell of the meat. Nourishment, however, was not the tabby's immediate concern. It ignored her offering, and continued howling and pacing in circles around the food.

After a while, Sherry realized the cat was trying to communicate something distressful, so she decided to follow it into the trees. Together, they made their way through the thick woods for a considerable distance. Sherry was not only curious, she sensed the cat's desperation as it continually turned to make sure she was still following. The tabby made its way toward an abandoned log cabin, where it jumped onto a tree branch lying next to the house.

As she neared the cabin, Sherry realized the cat's plight, as she could hear the sounds of starving kittens coming from underneath the house. There had been a windstorm several days before and perhaps the mother had left the litter to hunt for food. In her absence, a tree had fallen across the entrance, separating the mother from her litter of starving babies.

The feral cat remained on the tree branch as Sherry leaned herself over the tree beside her. She had just enough room to reach under the house to pull out one kitten after another. Sherry commented that the mother cat was making strange noises while the babies fearlessly came to Sherry's outstretched hand, one at a time, to be lifted up to safety. During those moments, she shared a unique experience with this feral mother and her wild kittens.

When Sherry had rescued the last baby, she watched as the litter of five scrawny kittens gathered around their mother. She dished out the luncheon meat she'd brought with her, and watched the small, starving brood consume it. The mother cat watched over her kittens, never touching the food herself.

She stood a few feet away, taking it all in, amazed that any cat could communicate with a human the way this wild cat had with her. She said the mother stared at her, blinked her eyes several times, and then left with the babies following behind. When Sherry returned to the campsite, she confided to her boyfriend that it was an experience she'd never forget.

Sherry told me this story 22 years ago, and I'll never forget the changes in her following that encounter with the cat in the woods. After that day, I never saw Sherry in quite the same light as I had before. She was more approachable, and seemed to show more consideration towards others. Something about that feral encounter in the woods had changed her. Several weeks later, she confessed that she had adopted a kitten from the local shelter.

As I became more involved with cats, I came to understand much of what the feral cat was trying to communicate to Sherry, and why she chose her. Other people had been camping in the area, but the cat selected Sherry to help rescue her litter. Perhaps someone else would have trapped the feline family in an attempt to save them from such a difficult life. The tabby seemed to realize that Sherry would help her, but not interfere with the litter.

The kittens had never been near a human before, and should have been more fearful. The mother, however, communicated to each kitten, by purr name, to ignore the offensive human odor, and permit Sherry to hand lift them to safety. The wild tabby communicated her gratitude to Sherry by blinking her eyes, to thank her for giving assistance and food to the starving litter.

When I first heard Sherry tell me this sad story, I was upset that the litter had been left in the wild to manage on its own. But Sherry felt she had done what she was asked to do, and seemed comfortable with her decision to let the litter wander away. Had I been there that day, the mother cat would never have approached me. Somehow, she must have sensed Sherry's true nature, her ability to separate her feelings, to have enough compassion to help without interfering with the litter's wild state. I know now that Sherry did the right thing by simply listening to the mother cat's needs, and answering them.

It warmed my heart to know that Sherry finally found a loving feline companion. After she became a cat owner, I noticed two small pictures appear on her desk -- one of her new tabby kitten, and one of her daughter.

I'd like to believe that Sherry's experience with the cat in the woods triggered her own maternal instincts. Sharing the mother cat's love for her kittens, and her courage to overcome fear and starvation, truly touched Sherry's heart. She may have physically helped the feral cat, but another exchange had also taken place between the two mothers. Sherry was finally ready to begin the journey into her own daughter's heart.

I was the only one who knew that the changes in Sherry were due to a small miracle, because her heart had been touched by the maternal love of a tabby cat in the woods.

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