So you know how I relocate un-adoptable feral cats to properties for rodent control? Well, last week’s relocation was slightly different. The property owner was referred to me by one of our volunteers so I thought, okay, great.
It’s rare that I know the people I’m bringing cats to. How it works is: they contact us, I get their address then go see if their property is a good fit for ferals. I never give it a second thought. And on second thought, maybe that’s not so smart.When I pulled into the driveway of Steve’s 7 acre spread, I noticed two houses. The one in back, where Steve lives, has an old barn attached that once housed ranch hands nearly 100 years ago. It sits at the end of a long dirt driveway. And as I drove in, I noticed a figure pacing back and forth through the lone upstairs window. Sorta eerie. I have to tell you, the whole scene reminded me of Norman Bates in Psycho. But maybe I’ve watched too many thrillers.
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Needless to say, working with Marin Friends of Ferals has its moments…I’ve broken my finger, been bitten through my knuckle by a kitten barely bigger than my hand, been saturated with poison oak and nearly lost the tip of my pinky from another bite. Scrapes and bruises come with the territory from efforts to spay and neuter feral community cats, yet I love what I do. But as it turns out, love hurts.
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 