On Memorial Day, while we were at home, someone stole Mustashio and her black sibling off our porch. I had just fed them about an hour earlier. Every time I mow the front lawn, I place them inside a large dog carrier, so they won’t run away. The mower terrifies them. I called them and tapped the metal cat food can. Two kittens ran to me, but Ebony (the mother) and the other two kittens were nowhere to be seen. After placing the two kittens in the carrier, I started mowing. About fifteen minutes later, Ebony returned but no kittens were with her. I figured the kittens must be somewhere nearby, but after I had finished the lawn, they still hadn’t returned.
The last time I had mowed, the carrier was inside the garage with all four kittens. Ebony looked for them and carried a stuffed mouse in her mouth while calling for them. When I was almost finished mowing, she was glaring at me, because she knew I must’ve done something with them. She’s always been a good, protective mother. And Monday, she glared at me wondering what I had done with the other two. I told her I didn’t have them. She was distraught. She searched the backyard and under the deck and returned to the garage, thinking I had put them inside. She worried, but instead of searching for them, she found a place to lie near the other two to protect them.
I contacted both neighbors, but neither had seen them. The one got on his four-wheeler and drove around his property, looking for them. At this point, I still thought they might be lost and trying to find their way home. Now, I believe someone nabbed them off the front porch. Ebony’s still upset and the two remaining kittens aren’t as spunky as they were. They act depressed.
I have to wonder about the nerve of people. We live at the end of a dead end road, so if someone drove up in a vehicle and took them, we’d have heard the car. No vehicles had turned around. This means the person(s) came on foot, grabbed them, and left. This also means, it’s someone nearby, on our street. Thieves. I’ve heard of cat burglars, but this is too literal.
Here’s what irks me, too. On Facebook, last year, I introduced Blackie, our male black cat. He was a stray someone had dumped near the house. We took him in, and he followed me everywhere when I was outside. At the time, we also had Gray and her son, Chubs. Butterscotch had been Chubs’ father. While Chubs was a kitten, Butterscotch vanished. He was gone for three days. When he returned, he was haunted. He went into the garage and sat for a few days. He’d eat and drink, but his eyes indicated something had terrified him. He refused to leave the garage.
A couple of weeks later, he got sick. Whatever illness he got killed him quickly. He had yellow phlegm running out his nose. Even if I could get him to a vet, which they weren’t taking new animals at the time, there was nothing they could do for him. I sat on the back deck, and he greeted me with his odd meow and walked to me. He looked so bad. I took a cat brush, and he lie at my feet. I brushed out clumps of loose, winter hair, and he purred the entire time. He was so appreciative. I sat and talked with him for a long time, and his eyes showed happiness. He purred. The next morning I came out to brush him again, but he was lying under the grill. I said, “Butterscotch.” He flipped his long yellow tail in one quick stretch and died. He waited for me before he left.
Oddly, about a year or so later, the same thing happened with Chubs. He disappeared three days and returned a different cat. Illness, like his father’s, occurred, and he died, too. Early last summer, our cat, Gray, disappeared for several days, and when she returned, she experienced the same. It seems like someone was catching and poisoning them. After Gray died, only Blackie remained.
In September, Blackie disappeared. Being a tomcat, he would occasionally be gone for a couple days at a time. I’d see him down the street but he’d come home. But in late September, he didn’t return after three weeks. I feared he’d died. So, here I was without a cat at all. I grieved.
Then, one day, I was driving to the house and noticed a black cat sitting in our driveway. I immediately thought it was Blackie, but it wasn’t. This was a younger female cat, and she was thin as a rail. Practically starved. I approached her but she ran. I talked calmly to her, and she tried to hide in our flowerbed. I sat on a chair and poured some cat food on the porch. She eyed the food but remained too skeptical of me to approach. I put some distance between she and I, and she eased to the food. She was so nervous that she never took her eyes off me while she ate. We repeated this for about four days. Gradually, she’d move closer and closer to me, until she finally let me pet her. The next day, she became bolder, and before I knew it, she was following me around and demanding to be petted.
Oddly, after she’d settled in, Blackie returned and chased her off. He’d been gone for weeks and was noticeably FATTER, and wanted to enact his territorial rights. The next day he was nowhere to be seen, and I feared Ebony wouldn’t return, but she was waiting at the door. Blackie stayed gone for about two months, and the last time I saw him, he was so fat he could barely walk. His head was larger than a softball. Someone has him locked inside the house with constant food, which is cat abuse, if you ask me. No animal should be fed until it’s too fat to get around.
When Ebony gave birth to her kittens, she trusted us enough to have them in a carrier on the porch. She never tried to hide them, and she seems so proud whenever you pay the kittens attention, even before their eyes opened. Now, after a cat thief took two of them, the harmony they had is gone. The kittens are still nursing, too.
Sunday before last, my daughter took her dog out for a walk and noticed two teenagers seated IN OUR YARD, trying to coax the kittens to them. Culprits? Possibly, or they know who took them, since one is our neighbor and the kittens aren’t there. I get it. Kittens are cute, adorable, but they grow up, and guess how many strays we’ve had here because people dump them. Over a dozen. But, if you want a kitten, you should knock and politely ask. You might not get the kitten of your choice, but do what’s right. Instead, someone stole two kittens. Stealing is a crime, whether it’s a cat or any type of property. Add trespassing, too (I have signs).
So, thieves, here’s my hope for you: May you suffer guilt and shame every time you look at those kittens. You don’t deserve them.