Cody's Story

My Human Wrote 
this True Story 

of How I Caught 
and Adopted Him!

I guess I could say that one of the highlights of 2017 was the story of Cody. Born the first week of April in my backyard to a very wild feral cat named, “Stinkface,” this new gray and white kitten was being taught that the secret to feline survival in this ‘hood is to sleep on the roof out of the reach of coyotes and to run as fast as you can from the deadly human. Wasn’t it just two years ago that one of our own kind was cruelly snatched by the giant monster and imprisoned behind locked doors in that big place where the human lives? Was it not your very own cousin forced into a degrading life of domestic privilege where he never has to kill to eat, where it never rains nor does the wind blow? Where instead of the natural high from playing with the carcass of a dead mouse, he is given only fake mice stuffed with the recreational drug called catnip? Now called Sean McDougal by the human monster, your cousin Sean* is beyond all hope and you must not let that happen to you! 

(* Sean McDougal’s mom and Stinkface’s mom were sisters)

The gray and white kitten listened to his mom and I couldn’t get within fifty feet of the Stinkface family without them frantically running away from me and leaping up the vine-covered trellis to hide on the roof. Stinkface is a beautiful calico who is absolutely terrified of me. When your mom panics at the sight of a human monster, that fear activates the primal survival lobe in the kitten’s brain and he or she is taught to fear what mom fears. The narrow window of time to tame a feral cat is four to eight weeks. Sean McDougal had been captured at six weeks and it still took a long time before he was no longer afraid of me. At eight weeks, Sean would have been as wild and irredeemably feral as was his Auntie Stinkface. Once this short window of opportunity to tame the feral has closed, a few may eventually come to tolerate humans but they’ll rarely be completely domesticated and affectionate with their human.

Then the most extraordinary thing happened. In June, Stinkface had grown tired of her role as a milk vending machine so she weaned the kitten and went to live two houses down the street where a wealthy elderly lady feeds the neighborhood ferals gourmet wet food instead of the Sam’s Club dry cat food that I put out for them. Stinkface would still come and visit, but her now abandoned gray and white kitten lived by himself on my property where he was born. I’d often see him chasing the squirrels up the trees and playing by himself in the front yard. This was where he ate, drank and lived and I enjoyed watching him from my kitchen window. 

At the end of every day, I’d go out to pick up the uneaten dry food so that the racoons and skunks wouldn’t eat it. Then one evening in July, I went out to pick up the cat food and the gray and white kitten came up to me, lay down at my feet, rolled over to expose his belly and looked up at me. I was stunned. This kitten had been taught by his mom that I was the giant human monster certain to kill and eat any cats I could catch. (This outrageous rumor had spread among the ferals and I’ve never been sure how it started. I do remember one time at my BBQ talking about how I love to eat the meat of beef cattle and that unfortunate remark may have been misheard by a passing feral feline as loving to eat the meat of “cats.” I guess we never really know how rumors like this get started...) But this young gray and white cat either refused to listen to ugly rumors or he simply disbelieved the stories about me and now night after night, as the sun would be going down, he would be waiting for me, run over, lie down at my feet and turn upside down to look up at me. I’d never seen a wild feral cat do that!

I’ve had dozens of feral cats on my property over the past twenty-nine years so I knew better than to try to pet him! He was now fourteen weeks old. Nearly four months old! That narrow window of when he could have been tamed had slammed shut a long time ago. I had tried to handle young ferals before and knew from experience that teeth and claws can instantly lacerate your hands in an explosive flash of kitten fury. But the truth was that he was not afraid of me. I was afraid of him. Then one evening he rolled over on his back and looked up at me with pleading eyes, and so (knowing I had a full bottle of hydrogen peroxide to disinfect any wounds) I reached down to pet him and he immediately started to purr. It was the first time he had been touched by a human but when I stopped stroking him, he stretched up his neck to press it against my hand again. I didn’t try to pick him up that night. Other ferals that have eventually let me pet them, panicked as soon as their feet came off the ground. I was becoming fond of this kitten and  didn’t want to do anything to make him afraid of me.

The next night, he did not want me to stop petting him. Life is rough on the outside, and so as I was petting him, I was picking some burrs and stickers from his silky smooth gray fur. I was sitting on a low wall by his food bowl and my back was hurting from bending over so long. So I gently picked him up and put him on my lap. I tensed in anticipation that he might become fearful and bolt but his only response was that the purring doubled in volume. I put my arms around him and held him close. Instead of panicking at the confinement and clawing for freedom, he sunk into my arms and closed his eyes. At that moment, I knew that I had just been adopted. 

That night, I decided that, with Sean McDougal’s approval, this gray and white kitten would become my second indoor cat. I knew that I’d need to catch him in the morning to take him to the Vet for blood tests before I could expose him to Sean, but the trouble was that I had never seen the kitten in the morning, only in the afternoon. On an acre of property with wood piles, bushes and old vehicles, there are plenty of places for a cat to hide and sleep and I had no idea where to even begin looking for him the next day. 

Is God orchestrating

this whole series of events?

But as the sun came up the next morning, I stood in my kitchen with my first cup of coffee and looked out the window to see the kitten looking up at me and waiting for me in the rose garden. Everything with this feral cat’s behavior was so far out of the ordinary, that when I saw him patiently waiting for me, I couldn’t help but to think: Is God orchestrating this whole series of events? That was July 25th and the day we went to the local Vet where blood tests showed that he was a healthy young cat and he received his shots. The next day, he was christened “Cody.” 

Sean McDougal and Cody quickly became best friends, playing together, eating together, grooming each other and catnapping together. While Sean is the lion king stalking around the house, Cody is the affectionate one and the one who sleeps cuddled up next to me at night. 

Last week, Cody got his Christmas gift from me. It was about $400 and by far the most expensive gift I’ve given to anyone in a long time. I guess that’s why I got my feelings hurt when he made it clear he didn’t want it. From his perspective, there was nothing wrong with him, and since nothing was broken, he saw no reason why he needed to be “fixed.” He cried and complained all the way to the Vet’s. 

Yeah Cody, I know it’s a tough life when you’re living on the inside, but next year your Christmas present will be a fake mouse filled with the recreational drug, catnip. I promise.

Submitted by our Human Companion