Persephone: Still Feral Years After Her Rescue

Her life isn't quite what we expected. She's alive, she's well fed (make that too well fed), and she no longer has to get wet in the rain or chilled to the bone when temperatures plummet in the winter.

For Persephone, who's probably around 3 ½, life is still problematic. My husband encountered the Maine Coon when he filled a community feeder that we placed at the end of our street. The cat came right up to the feeder as soon as he had replenished the dry food supply. When residents on the street persistently picked up the feeder and threw it in the trash, we decided to feed the neighborhood feral cats in front of our home as well as behind it. Otherwise, they'd starve.

The Migration

The cat quickly found the food at the house. The first time I caught a glimpse, I told my husband that "Percy" was definitely not a "he," but a female cat who was either pregnant or had recently given birth. A couple of days later, I tracked the cat to a townhouse that was in foreclosure. Scampering around the deck were four adorable kittens, who immediately ran up to their mama for food. Percy immediately became Persephone, or Perse in everyday parlance.

My husband and another trapper were able to catch Perse in a trap, spay her, and then release her in the neighborhood. The four kittens were trapped at the same time and whisked to foster care, where they were bottle-fed and quickly adopted to avoid life on the street as feral cats.

Perse did not adjust well. Two weeks after her surgery, she was still looking for her kittens. She endlessly crossed the two loops of our street, barely making it through the heavy traffic. She didn't join the neighborhood feral colony. She didn't hang out with any other cats for protection. My husband and I decided that in order to save her life, we would take her into our home. But how?

The Rescue

Since the cat had never been touched, that was the first order of business. After a week, she let me stand beside her while she ate at the front door. One hot July day - my seventh attempt - I grabbed her and whisked her inside the house as my husband held open the door. She joined a trio of cats who are siblings.

Unlike the other cats in the household, all of whom entered willingly, Perse is still more feral than domesticated. While the others enjoy various toys, she finds them fearful. She won't play. As a matter of fact, she is still, 2 1 /2 years after joining the family, afraid of about everything, including us.

Getting her to the vet is an ordeal that sometimes requires trying half a dozen days in a row to catch her. We can't pick her up at will. We can't medicate her. She hides under the sofa. She nearly died from a fecal impaction two years ago because of how long it took to catch her and get her to the vet. She suffered for days this month with a sore on her ear before I could apprehend her for a trip to the animal hospital.

Perse also has her idiosyncrasies. Between 3:30 and 5:00 AM every day, she hops onto the bed, approaches in the dark, and rhythmically kneads my chest. If she misses a day, I know she's sick and have to try to find her.

Kneading is a cat's way of saying one of two things. First is that the cat loves you and is claiming you as its own. Second is a reminder that you should get up and serve Friskies for breakfast. She loves to be petted, but only by me, and only in the dark. When she's had enough, she abruptly leaps off the bed. I keep her brush and comb under my pillow.

Here Forever

We undoubtedly saved Perse's life, but in many respects, this loved feline is a sad, fearful cat. Had she remained outside, she would have died long ago.

Now and then, however, we see a little hope. Now and then, the cat's eyes and mine meet and lock for a few seconds. Sometimes she'll rub her tail against my legs when she walks silently from one room to the next. Just once, I saw her grooming one of the other cats rather that hiding from all of them.

Perse's life might not be exactly what we envisioned for her, but we're certain, every time we hear the meow that sounds like a seagull's squawk, that she knows we'll take care of her, no matter what.