After that whole ordeal of rescuing Ferguson from the slammer, he and I had been building a happy life together. We were getting to know each other; spending time in the yard together, napping on the couch, playing with string, things like that. During his free time, Ferguson befriended a neighborhood stray; a tortoiseshell cat with the brightest green eyes. They became friends so quickly that I decided they might be related. Maybe that's his mama! So I started calling the little stray cat Mama.
Mama is super skittish. For the first few weeks of our courtship, she'd run off when I came outside to get Ferguson. But those cats manage to talk to each other and Ferguson must have told her I was cool because she started loitering around our place in the evenings. She's very skinny and petite, so I started going out and throwing kitty treats at her, and after a month of patience, she'd finally sit within three feet of me while she munched. Around that same time it started to get cold at night and Mama would eyeball Ferguson and me as we sheltered ourselves in the laundry room.
Sometime in December, she worked up the courage to climb the back steps and peer into the laundry room. She spent a week stepping inside, testing that the floor could hold her weight, and then darting back out into the safely of the wilderness. Once it dropped to the 30's I put a plastic and towel-lined box outside for her to sleep in. Brett said I was contributing a "homelessness factor" to the appearance of our porch. I'll zoom ahead and tell you that by the end of December, Mama was sleeping in the laundry room with Ferguson, and enjoying a small bowl of kibble twice each day. In all this time, Mama wouldn't let me pet her. She'd run if I stood too close, made too much noise, or acted like I was going to close the door of the laundry room. (Most nights that she slept over involved tricking her into staying. She never objected once inside.)
Ferguson graciously lets Mama sleep in his chair on the nights that she stays over. He'll hunker down on a towel on my desk - uncomfortable by comparison. He's a true gentleman. Mama and Ferguson have a grand time with each other each day. Mostly they wrestle, but they also prowl around the yard and bask in the sunny driveway together. Shortly after New Years, Mama began accepting light pats at the base of her tail before she'd step out for the day. On the nights that Mama didn't show up to sleep in the laundry room, she'd sleep across the driveway in a trailer in the neighbors yard, because she has her own life to live. Ferguson and I enjoyed her company when she was around and carried on with our life when she wasn't.
Now if you're wondering about Brett, don't let him fool you. For every time he told me to let Mama be, he'd toss her some kibble and beckon her for cuddles. (She won't cuddle with Brett.) On very cold nights, Brett would ask if Mama was inside, and in the mornings he'd go sit on the floor and try to make her love him. So, don't believe his "disgruntled about the cat farm" act.
About a month ago, a third cat showed up. I named him Big Frank. He looks exactly like Ferguson except he's real big. They have all the same markings and everything. I've wondered if he's Ferguson's dad. I've never worried about feeding Big Frank because he's clearly getting his rations. Anyways, Big Frank was loitering around one day when I heard Mama just a-hollering. Mama doesn't make noise. I dashed out to the driveway and found Big Frank harassing her so I chased him off, and ever since then, Mama decided to trust me. The only thing off limits is picking her up - she doesn't like that - but now I get to pet her and call for her and she acts like my own personal cat.
I decided I had built up enough trust to be able to pick Mama up long enough to stuff her into a cat carrier and take her to be spayed. So that's what I did. She rode quietly in her cat box - which almost made me feel worse, frightening such a skittish, distrustful kitty. I was sure I had betrayed our friendship. She had to spend the night at the clinic, so I brought her home the next day just certain she would dart away from me and out of my life.
Well! I don't know what they did to her but this little rat cat won't leave me alone. She follows me around, chirping at me and rubbing her face on my ankles. I can't get her to go outside! She wants to spend the day in the house with me. After breakfast, I open the laundry door and only Ferguson leaves. I think he needs space from her. He only comes back once I've managed to get Mama to leave for the day. He's begun pushing his way back into the sleeping chair. His chivalry is out the window. I'm afraid I've created his own little clingy girlfriend. It's been a week now, and Mama's relentless love isn't giving up.
Since we have two cats now, I gave Mama a proper name.
Everyone, meet Nora...
