FERALS & STRAYS

Years ago when I purchased my home, it came with a tough, feral boy who went by the name of Whitey. He was a super smart boy who had been fed for years by the 2 previous home owners and the neighbors. While he was tough and smart, he was and would always be extremely feral, no matter how hard I tried. He would never be an indoor cat and even petting & cuddling never became an option. Whitey was his own man and that's the way he liked, wanted, and demanded it.

Soon after I moved here, I trapped him and took him in to get neutered and cleaned up. His ears were terrible and he needed a dental along with the removal of many teeth, which never slowed him down. After his surgery, I kept him in my garage to recover and ended up getting a doggy door installed for him to come and go as he pleased. Giving him his monthly dose of Revolution was quite the delicate dance as my hands were the enemy but he eventually figured out it was for his own benefit and would stand still when he felt it hit his back, so I liked to assume.

While he would come in many nights, he often preferred staying outside in one of his many homemade and heated shelters where he could keep an eye on his territory and head to the woods when he heard an uninvited guest getting too close. Whitey was never one to back down from a fight, whether with feral or fox. Now and then, another feral would pass through who he would tolerate, even sharing his meals with. I always thought these were one of his own that he had brought into the world prior to being neutered.

Whitey was "my boy" for many years. He lived a VERY long life for a feral. One day, he jumped up and sat with me on a lounger. I was pretty nervous given his normal reaction to spin around and given me a hiss and a swat with his razor-sharp claws, but he and I shared a moment that day. Soon after this beautiful visit, he disappeared. He had done this before for a day or two but this time, he stayed away much longer. I eventually accepted that I would never see him again.

Then, while working on the yard one day, I heard Whitey's distinct meow, now very gravely, coming from the garage and I went in to find him in a very bad way. I almost couldn't handle looking at him. I try not to think about what had happened but I was shocked that he was still alive. I rushed him to my vet just a couple of minutes away to do what had to be done.

My vet left us alone while she prepared things and this was the one time I ever got to hold him. I held him and tried not to bawl my eyes out so I could show him I was tough as well. My attempts at not bawling failed. I told him how much I loved him, how much everyone loved him, even those who never met him but followed him online. I told him what a good boy he was, that he was the BEST boy, that I would never ever forget him, and that he would never be replaced.  

To this day, things aren't the same at my house. I still catch myself almost calling for him with my high-pitched "Whiteyyyyyyy" call that he never ignored and that became a source of laughter for my friends. I miss him terribly.

Please enjoy my little video in memory of Whitey. And please, take care of the ferals. They like to pretend they don't need us but they do. And some of us need them, too.

#toughlikewhitey