Mama Kitty, transformed

We got the mobile home and moved behind the barn in 2008; that's twelve years ago.  It wasn't long after that Mama Kitty showed up, carrying her new kittens to our barn one by one.  She had belonged to a little girl who moved away, and I was certain the cat would be climbing on screens trying to get in the house, as I'd seen other cats do.  However, she stayed in the wing of the barn living on, and under, a lumber pile and not bothering me at all.  She'd been eating whatever she could catch, or find in our burn barrel, and didn't approach me at all.  I warmed up to her and began feeding her.  She never committed any of the offenses cats sometimes are guilty of.  She won my heart, in fact, and my admiration.  

So she's at least twelve years old, living all her life as an outside cat.  She had one more litter her second year living here, after which we had her spayed (oh, how it bothers me when someone types that as "spaded").  I never tried to get her super-friendly, but she got to the point that I could pet her and and even pick her up, if I did it slowly and gently, although when I put her down, my shirt or coat would be covered in white hair.  For the most part, she minded her business and I minded mine.  Other cats have come and gone; she remains.  For the past year or two, I've occasionally seen her puking up her dry cat food, which I noticed was still whole.  I assumed, and still believe, that she has problems with her teeth and can't chew.  I know that is common in old cats.  Unfortunately, it is prohibitively expensive to have a cat's (or dog's) teeth removed.  I cannot justify the expense.  At twelve years of age, she's lived a long life, and I've wondered if I should just have her put down.  Normally I'd have Cliff do that job, and he'd do it, too... but the first bullet doesn't always kill a cat, and I want her to leave this earth without even knowing what happened.  If only she could talk, I'd ask her if she is in pain... but she can't.

I've been feeding my other cat, Blue, a little canned cat food in the evenings.  A couple of days ago he left about half of it in the dish.  Rather than cover it and put it in the refrigerator, I decided to let Mama Kitty have it; I called her to the porch.  She went to the bowl, looked around in every direction to see if there was any threat visible, and then devoured it.  Right then and there, it occurred to me that perhaps she could keep wet food down, since it requires very little chewing.  

Over the next 24 hours, Mama Kitty spent a lot of time on the front porch as though waiting for some more food; if I walked out there, she'd meow a "hello".  That evening I fed her the wet food again.  She has been transformed!  She now plays with Blue; they are the only two cats here, since Buttons ran away to the cat lady's house where apparently conditions are better.  Jake, Mama Kitty's son from her last litter 10 years ago, also moved over there not long ago.  Now, all of a sudden, Mama Kitty is accepting Blue with all his pouncing and stalking and carrying on, when he was making her angry before.  She spends a lot of time on the front porch, but I'm sure she'll eventually figure out that I only give her the "good stuff" at night; the dry food is always served in the barn. 

I still wonder if she is in pain, but it's bound to be less painful to eat soft food... and at least I know she's much happier.  She almost acts like an energetic kitten now.  It's like a miracle, and at least I don't feel so guilty about her teeth; I think she's worth the 25 cents a day it will cost for her canned cat food.

To see Mama Kitty teaching her last litter to hunt in 2003, click HERE.

When she was younger, she never failed to accompany us on our daily walk in the pasture.

If cats go to heaven, Mama Kitty surely will make it.

I hope all my readers have a great day.