Once again I forgot to feed the cat. I am not at all proud of that fact. I don’t own the cat, though. No one does. She - or he - is a feral creature, and as much as I’d like to believe that she has enough skills to adapt in the face of my irresponsibility, it’s time I give my notice and ask that the shelter find a replacement, one who doesn’t forget once every six weeks or so. The best answer, one might alternatively think, is to re-commit, and write it on the damn calendar. Yet I’ve never resorted to that sensible tactic; how hard is it to remember to feed the cat every Tuesday, I think. Well, apparently, I’ve allowed my life to become just a bit too unstructured (and alarmingly noncommital; therein lies the problem.) So, I continue to forget every six weeks or so.
And it’s not as if I don’t like the cat. I’ve had this conversation more than once with my oldest brother Kevin, who fervently believes I’m completely nuts for feeding a feral anything, but especially a cat (and when he says the word “cat”, his voice becomes its most raspy; the word comes out in a vehement burst, and brings to mind the jarring sound of a wood chipper.) I admire feral cats, I tell him; they’ve decided that they will live an uncompromising life. Humans, to them, aren’t worth the trouble that just naturally tends to swirl around them. I imagine that they’ve weighed the options on their two front paws - on the one paw, live a life of reliance on your human(s) (and, with that, no assurances that they will clean your litter box to your satisfaction or feed you your preferred food) in exchange for a risk-free experience, or, on the other paw, test your own abilities in the wild in exchange for independence, but with that independence, uncertainty.
And speaking of independence, studies in which domesticated dogs and cats have been compared, it comes as no surprise that cats show a decided advantage, exhibiting more competence when suddenly or unexpectedly cast into the wild. (I don’t know under what types of circumstances these creatures would have been so situated for the benefit of science; that in itself bears investigation.)
After making the case that cats are - or can be - independent, that they don’t really need humans, are you now beginning to challenge the essential wisdom of a feral-feeding program? After all, the world doesn’t need more feral cats. . . or dogs. And, can’t we just leave the outcome to Nature? The feral feeding program to which I belong is a very structured one, and is only one component in a larger program, the goal of which is to control the cat population and make healthier the feral cats that they are able to trap-neuter-release (TNR). It should be called trap-neuter-vaccinate-release, for this nonprofit organization does just that.
Cats, it should be pointed out, have not been our companions - whether loyal or begrudging - nearly as long as dogs. For 40,000 years we humans have relied on dogs to - literally - hunt with us. The control of small pests became more of an issue during the agricultural age (12,000 years ago), and that was when our species made formal appeal to the feline species for help. It remains to be seen whether cats will ever debase themselves quite to the degree that dogs customarily do in order to win our approval; it would be unwise to hold one’s breath in anticipation.
So, I think I’ll not tender my resignation just yet. I’m going to give the calendar a shot. Kevin’s viewpoint notwithstanding, I’m hopeful. No, I’m resolved. I’ll not let down Feral Filomena again!
