A Member of Our Local Cat Colony Found a Forever Home

The world seems a happier place today.

Today a stray cat found a home. I want to celebrate.

The number of stay cats in the United States, per the ASPCA, is estimated to be in the tens of millions. Obviously, every cat is not going to find a forever home.

The ASPCA endorses Trap-Neuter-Return-Monitor (TNRM) as the only proven humane and effective method to manage community cat colonies. A Closer Look at Community Cats

We moved into our house a little over a year ago. During our walk-through, we saw a cat in the backyard. I tried to pet him or her, but the cat jumped our block wall.

Shortly after moving in we realized there were areas of the yard that smell of cat pee.

The declaration page we received as part of our house purchase paperwork warned of a cat colony. We didn’t spend much time thinking about it. We love cats.

Anyone who has lived with a feral cat community no doubt understands the naiveté of this attitude. Shortly after moving in we realized there were areas of the yard that smell of cat pee. I am sure it smells of other things, but the cat pee overwhelms them.

We share a wall with the neighbor who cares for the feral colony. Reportedly, she traps the cats, takes them for a vet visit, and then releases them into her yard. In short, the TNRM method the ASPCA endorses. This is noble work.

Those cats are cared for. They’ve been vaccinated and spayed or neutered. It doesn’t help with the cat pee in our yard though.

Since the cat pee smell is on the far side of the yard, I decided to make peace with it.

We also have a neighbor who doesn’t clean up their dog leavings often enough. It causes one side of our patio to smell even worse than the cat pee. At least the cat pee is on the far side of the yard, far away from the patio.

What is a friendly, non-rude way to ask them to poop scoop on a more regular basis? If I ever drum up the courage to knock on their door, I will need something to say.

Living in the Phoenix, Arizona area, it is over 65 Fahrenheit most of the year. We have flies and poop smell whenever the temperature reaches that threshold.

How is it they don’t notice it themselves? My husband thinks they don’t go outside very often. Whatever the reason, neither of us can make peace with the smell of dog poop.

Since the cat pee smell is on the far side of the yard, I decided to make peace with it. My husband did not. Has not.

In short, nothing we have tried works.

First, he tried citrus aromatherapy. The Internet told us this would help. We sprayed some concoction Amazon promised would help. The orange scent was nice. It did nothing. Neither did the chili powder sprinkled around.

Next, he tried placing strips of plastic spikes along the top of our block wall. It couldn’t hurt them, but it should have discouraged the cats from entering our yard or walking on the wall. The cats walked over it.

“These are tough street cats. No little plastic strip is going to stop them.” My husband laughed. At least he has kept his sense of humor.

“Do you think our cats would be discouraged from jumping over the wall? If they ever got out?” I asked. Our cats are indoor only, but I worry about it a little.

He laughed harder. “Our cats are pampered royalty. We’ve crushed whatever wildness they had in them with wet food, soft beds, and constant petting. They’d never walk across plastic spikes.”

I have my doubts, but we are careful. They have never gotten out. If they do, the collars with our phone number stitched into it should help them make their way back home. If those fail, their chips should do the job.

Next, he got an automatic sprinkler. I saw one of the slower cats get hit full-on with the spray. It was funny.

He ran onto the patio and shook himself off. Usually, the cats are savvier than that. They avoid it. In short, nothing we have tried works.

I felt a tug on my heart for the black cat.

Right after we moved in, I began to see the feral cats as individuals. There was the orange tabby with patchy fur. He liked to sun himself in our backyard.

Then there was the heavy black cat that sometimes walked with me to the mailbox and back. He let me pet him if I was slow and careful. There are many more.

A lot of these cats aren’t exactly feral. Most of them were pets that were left behind by tenants of the apartment complexes in the area. There is a special place in hell for people who abandon their pets like that.

I felt a tug on my heart for the black cat. He was sweet and wanted his neck scratched. He walked stiffly. I assume he is an older cat. I’ve never seen him in our backyard. Maybe he has trouble jumping a five-foot wall.

Then there is the lean black cat. He is friendly, too, although I’ve never pet him. He has always seemed to want inside.

The black cat was on two legs, leaning in on one front paw against the glass.

If my husband leaves the door to the garage open while he is doing yardwork, the cat darts in. We are fearful he will hide somewhere in the garage without us being aware.

Living in the desert, it is hot and dry. Without a way to get out, he could be in trouble in our garage.

My husband is careful but often talks about the fact that this cat doesn’t seem to be afraid of him. He will jump over the wall at the last minute when shooed from the yard.

I often glance out my bedroom window and see the cat sunning himself. I don’t say anything.

One day, as we were in the family room, I looked out our glass door. The black cat was on two legs, leaning in on one front paw against the glass. He was looking in and saw me. He didn’t budge. I wish I had a photo.

My husband noticed and as soon as he opened the door, the cat ran out of reach. He looked back at us.

He was waiting to see if we were going to invite him in. We didn’t. My husband chased him over the fence.

Every time I saw this black cat, obviously longing for a home, I wanted to let him in, but I didn’t.

This cat wanted a home. I promised my husband I wouldn’t go full-on cat lady on him. I would stick with our two cats. Every time I saw this black cat, obviously longing for a home, I wanted to let him in, but I didn’t.

Today as I made the bed, I looked out the window into our back yard. The black cat was warming itself on the flagstone past our covered patio. He had a pink collar on.

I am so happy. Someone has claimed him. Perhaps he has a cat flap and can come and go from his new home.

I want to celebrate. It is only one cat out of many in the colony, but someone has said “Yes. You can be my cat. You can own me. We can own each other.”

My husband ran outside and shooed him over the fence. It didn’t seem as mean as usual to me. The cat has a home to go to.

I told the news to Xander and Anya, my pampered housecats. They didn’t find the news as exciting. It doesn’t matter.

Tonight, they will feast on a can of whitefish and tuna in celebration of another kitty finding a home.

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