Number seven in the lineup of my furry family members is Skye, a Lynx Point. Where do I start with her? Skye is a complicated one, the most feral of my cats, followed by Mango, another of my skitty kitties. Both are afraid of their own shadow, which is one reason I had to keep them. Let’s take Skye today.

I actually didn’t remember where I trapped Skye because I’ve trapped hundreds of cats so I had to look her up. I’m not like my co-worker, Leanne, who has a memory like an elephant whereas mine is in the hamster realm, purported to be three seconds long. As it turns out, Skye and her siblings were trapped as kittens in the Mt. Shasta area and brought to Marin Humane where I fostered her.

As you can see, Skye is a gorgeous cream color. If I had to relocate her to a new outdoor home, being that she’s not adoptable, she would last maybe 3 days, 4 hours and 27 seconds before getting picked off by a coyote. Unfortunately, her coloring makes her stand out like someone wearing shorts to a wedding.

So when I fostered Skye and realized this fact, what was I to do? I couldn’t return her to her colony where she’d quickly become minced meat, could I? No way. She’s a dreaded tweener — too feral for adoption but not suitable to live as a feral. She doesn’t fit in anywhere except, it seems, with me. So yes, I have a house full of tweeners and Skye became my seventh failed foster.

So here’s the thing about Skye. She’s mostly a loner. But now and then she gets a little frisky. She nuzzles one of the other cats then takes off like a shot, leaping and racing around the backyard as though she’s on fire but enjoying the burn. In short, she’s a weirdo.

In the past, by going over the fence my cats have proven they actually believe the grass IS greener on the other side. All except Fat Jack. He struggles just to hurdle the baby gate, so he’s content to stay put. But I worry about cars and coyotes for my other cats. So recently Paul, my awesome neighbor, helped catify (make escape-proof) my backyard.

Paul slaved for 3 days putting up the Oscillot cat containment system which uses roller bars to thwart a cat like Skye. She has no respect for the work it takes to keep her alive. Now don’t get me wrong; my backyard is now like a fortress; nothing gets in and nothing gets out. Except Skye.

That dang cat is the most determined of felines. In other words — a persistent little cuss. She must have walked the entire yard, inspecting every nook and cranny to plan how to escape what I imagine she feels is prison. This particular prison has an adequate hillside for Skye to explore, tons of dense foliage to hide in and cushy patio furniture to lounge on before she comes inside for the night. Apparently she wants more.

Seems Paul and I high-fived a tad too soon since Skye showed up in their backyard. So he added an extra row of Oscillot rollers to the exact spot where I actually witnessed her navigate a nearly impossible avenue to freedom. If you ask me, she’s a feline Houdini. But never fear! We won’t stop until she’s forced to endure life in this evergreen paradise — I mean prison.

So you know, Skye has never let me pet her. The best I get is at mealtime when, while placing her bowl down, I sometimes brush the back of my hand along her tail. Once in a while she pretends it didn’t happen but generally responds as though I tasered her.

Skye has never slept on the bed with me and the others. She prefers the cat tree in the room across the hall but sometimes sleeps in the closet or under the bed. She has very little interest in food, a trait of Lynx Points. Oh, and she’s slightly cross-eyed.

It seems the longer I’ve had Skye, the more feral she gets…just the opposite of every other semi- feral I’ve had. She’s an anomaly, that one. When I see her rub against Fat Jack or snuggle with Dash, I know she’s happy here…at least until she realizes her wandering days are over.

Seven down, three to go…