yesterday, d. had a conversation with a neighbour two houses down about cats. turns out this neighbour, let’s call her a., has three cats, three tomcats to be precise. she told d. that the great thing about tomcats is that they don’t get pregnant. turns out she also doesn’t sterilize her cats because she loses too many to the highway, and she said that her cats come over to our barn to « play with the lady cats ». something was perhaps lost in translation in their conversation, but d. said she didn’t seem to get that the « pregnant cat problem » she was avoiding, she was instead bestoying upon us with her tomcats.
it made me incredibly angry.
and then this morning i turned into a crazy lady who yells at cats when as i was giving them their daily ration of milk and kibble, chasing away the sturdier looking cats (who clearly don’t live in the barn) so that the frail female cats (the true barn residents) could eat. as i’ve said to anyone who would listen, i’m not interested in having over a dozen cats, not interested in perpetuating the cat cycle that makes it so there are always too many too sick cats on the farm. and i’m certainly not interested in using our very limited resources to feed the neighbours cats.
i realize i need to speak to a. but there seems to be such a culture of just letting cats breed in misery because it takes care of potential mice problems. (except Mme P., my first friend here, who totally gets where i’m coming from and proudly cares for her cats, despite the financial strain of it).
i feel we’ve cracked the mystery here, though. and between that and some mild progress with the good folks at the SPCA, i might be able to stop thinking and talking so much about feral cats in the nearish future.