I figure since I just talked about them, it’s an appropriate time to share some photos of recent visitors. I took all of these pictures over the last three or four days.
First: Aethon.
Second: Psiwa.
Third: Larenti.
Speaking of the outside cats
Category Archives: Larenti
My Hobson’s choice revisited
Last November I discussed my Hobson’s choice regarding the neighborhood cats I had been feeding. The problem that ultimately forced me to realize I had to stop came from the presence of Aethon, an unsterilized male who had decided the food supply belonged entirely to him, and he was willing to enforce that claim with unremitting hostility and violence leveled against any other cat who wished to share in the bounty. In fact, he eventually began sleeping near the food throughout the day as a measure of guard duty.
I witnessed on many occasions his savage aggression toward the other cats I had befriended. When one night he unleashed terrible brutality on Larenti as she approached, my heart broke with the realization that I could no longer feed them without endangering the gentler members of the neighborhood feline brigade. I wept as I concluded the banquet must end.
Yet a few days later I mentioned to xocobra during a visit that it wasn’t just Aethon’s malfeasance that spelled the end. At that time, I already faced a growing financial disaster. Add to that the cost of feeding my own five cats along with at least five regular outside visitors—and all with prescription cat food that isn’t cheap. It seemed, as I admitted to him, that my Hobson’s choice was a double-whammy. I was spending a fortune on expensive cat food whilst simultaneously engendering a rather volatile situation with the various outside cats (all because of one specific cat, mind you). I was unable to monitor the situation around the clock in order to intercept Aethon’s tyrannical terror, and similarly I was unwilling to visit upon him any harm or fright because his actions were not intentionally evil. He was, after all, simply trying to survive, and being unfixed meant he was a slave to his raging male hormones.
And therein rested my Hobson’s choice: stop feeding them or chase him away. Since chasing him away was impossible and unpalatable, I really had only the illusion of a choice. My course of action seemed all to clear… I had to stop feeding them to address both the financial worries and the growing discord and harm being done in response to the availability of food.
But did I stop? Yes. For a short time.
Too often I was visited by any number and combination of these cats, and each time I died a little more, lamented their need and my unwillingness to fulfill it, and suffered a thousand wounds when they called out to me or stared at me with the questioning want of a cat accustomed to being provided a meal but who suddenly finds itself going without. Nevertheless, I knew I had to stop, at least temporarily, in order to break Aethon of his habit, that of staking his claim early in the morning and remaining on sentry throughout the day so as to attack any interloper who wished to share in the feast.
And it worked. Perhaps a week went by as his visits grew less frequent and shorter. He would arrive and take his position. He would watch me closely with eyes asking the question his mouth could not articulate. Finally, after seven or eight days, his early arrival stopped. He began making infrequent visits throughout the day and night, each time checking to see if the situation had changed, and each time finding it had not. And then, after about ten days, his presence became occasional, one defined by casual strolls and jaunts through the area as part of an irregular schedule.
The damage had been done, though, for the same could be said of the other cats. I rarely saw any of them, and certainly a few seemed to have disappeared altogether. I feared for them, shed tears of worry and sorrow on their behalf, and eventually succumbed to my own humane heart. I began feeding them again.
Since then, most have returned at least from time to time. All except Clance and Chira. Clance I saw rarely after that, and now I’ve not seen him for a few months. I do carry a great deal of concern for him. My hope is that he was adopted, rescued by some other loving person, but I also realize that’s probably more self-deception than anything else. He could still be around but not visiting because the meal became unreliable. I simply don’t know.
As for Chira, the last few times I’ve seen him he has been wearing a collar. As I had suspected and hoped for some time in response to his less frequent visits, it appears someone has at least taken to providing him with love and attention, not to mention some kind of stable companionship and care. My apprehension based on his absence lessened tremendously when I realized that. In spite of not seeing him since early January, I have at least some measure of hope that he’s being taken care of and hasn’t just gone missing like too many stray cats do.
Henko still visits. Being as aloof and skittish as she is, she’s still the hardest one to see. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see her. Almost every morning like clockwork, I watch her slink by the windows nearest my desk where I work. Rather than bother her too much, I give her plenty of space. She’s a small, frightened lass, one subjected to quite a bit of unnecessary chasing by the others, something due in no small part to her size and position in the local pecking order, I believe. So I give her space and don’t attempt to visit with her too often.
Psiwa’s presence is almost as regular as Larenti’s. He comes and goes throughout each day and enjoys his time at the public table. He’s grown quite accustomed to me, something that pleases me to no end. Instead of running away each time he sees me, he’s now so comfortable with my presence that he’ll sit right by the fence as I put out additional food. When before I couldn’t be within six feet (two meters) of him, I’ve actually been able to touch him a few times over the past month or so. That is tremendous progress between us.
But now that I’ve ranted ad infinitum about all of these cats, and without mentioning the few new visitors I’ve seen on very rare occasions, I come to the crux of the matter.
My relationship with Larenti has developed to a new level. She now talks to me even when it has nothing whatsoever to do with food. She responds to my presence with comfort and affection, shows excitement when I’m around, and shows up constantly, sometimes sleeping right outside the patio fence for hours at a time. This is nothing like Aethon’s similar behavior last year, mind you, for Larenti is not violent and is not protecting the food. She’ll lie quietly and without interference as other cats—especially Psiwa—come and go. For that matter, she hangs out with Psiwa quite often.
The point is, though, she’s grown used to me and has developed a bond with me. It’s comfortable and welcomed. And it’s in danger.
You already know I intend to leave Dallas at the end of the year, give or take, an uprooting change in my life intended to get me away from concrete jungles and too many people. I want to live in a place that will indulge my growing need to commune with nature, so it’s certain I will relocate closer to the family farm in East Texas. I want a place where the natural world is not as tainted as it is here, a place where walks in woodlands and along riparian landscapes are not deceptive illusions as can be found here at the lake where I presently reside. There is ample nature to be seen here, yes, but it’s not natural and it’s not free of human overcrowding. It’s a habitat located within the city, one surrounded on all sides by urban and suburban sprawl, one a mere stone’s throw from downtown Dallas. I’ll post some maps momentarily to show you what I mean, but this lake is nothing more than a brief hallucination in an otherwise vast landscape of civilization. It is no escape from humanity’s constant drivel and activity; it’s a blink right in the middle of the mess, one you could easily miss if you didn’t know it was there.
That’s not the life I want anymore, and it’s not the life I’ll have when I move. Or at least that’s what I hope.
Which leads me to Larenti and the other cats. When I leave this place, I must leave them behind as well. It’s simply not possible to rescue them all, methinks. But could it be possible to rescue one or two of them?
I think it is in at least a small way. Since I don’t know where I’ll move to, though, I don’t know if trying to do that would even work. And I dare not move them simply to keep them as outside cats. They’re comfortable in their current territory with lives that are somewhat stable and secure, at least as much as can be had under the circumstances. Uprooting them and placing them into a new, wilder environment would simply put them in greater danger. I’m not willing to do that.
I still think it could be possible to adopt one or two of them before I go.
Having six or seven cats would be a tremendous change, I know. It would be disruptive to the current five assuming one or two new members could even be integrated. That’s a huge assumption. But aside from that consideration, what else can I do? I would be leaving them without my support—the biggest part of which is food!—and would essentially be abandoning them to their fates. I’m sure they’d survive given that they survived before I came along. They are cats, after all, and that means master predators and cunning beasts whose only real threat is people. And starvation, disease, larger predators, parasites, and whatever else might befall them.
Therein lies my worry and pondering. When I move, what do I do about them? If anything, who do I rescue? And will any action even be possible?
I have months before this quandary is faced directly. I already stress about it nevertheless. I can’t wait until the last minute to decide and act. My greatest fear is that I’ll simply have to disappear from their perspective. One day the food will stop. One day the affection and attention will end. It will be so abrupt and unforeseen. And what will they do then? How long will they continue to visit hoping for my return? And who will occupy this space after me, and how will they react to these cats who keep coming around and waiting?
There is much that must be considered in all of this. I realize that without hesitation. It doesn’t change the consideration, though. Not at all.
Gender-bending doppelgängers
Feline doppelgängers are not unusual. Kako has two in our immediate vicinity: Clance and Henko. Similarly, Larenti has one in the form of Aethon. Given the ubiquitous nature of domestic cats, rare indeed is the fur person who has no look-alike walking the surface of the planet, and impossible is the consideration that any cat anywhere has never and will never be a mirror image of at least one other cat.
So it was with a bit of humor that I received an e-mail a few days ago from a gentleman named Brian. He said:
I stumbled across your site, and found it ironic that we both have cats named Grendel, and even more ironic that they looked so similar. Mine is a female (thought about naming it “Grendel’s Mother”, but that was too complicated) and an all-around good kid. Just thought I’d share those photos of my little beast, and let you know you did a bang up job naming him.
Grendel is a gray tabby. Given the abundant nature of this particular breed of cat, it’s always been safe to assume he has a plethora of doppelgängers, has had an innumerable number throughout history, and will have many more in the future. But to find one with the same name? And to find one who is similar in appearance with the same name but who is a female? I thought that was rather cool.
So of course I checked out the photos Brian sent along with his missive. And sure enough, his Grendel is quite similar in color and markings to my Grendel, and even her body shape is eerily analogous. I also noticed in the background and discussion he provided that their personalities are not terribly dissimilar, both being relatively laid-back, easy-going, very affectionate, and outspoken. These are all traits of the tabby line, I realize, and so I need not be surprised by the multiple likenesses with regards to their personalities.
Brian notes she’s a petite lady, which would make her the opposite of Grendel’s hefty fifteen pounds (seven kilograms). That discrepancy easily falls under the normal feline gender differences seen most evidently in their sizes.
Head on over and take a look at Grendel’s gender-bending doppelgänger. Don’t forget to read through Brian’s affectionate talk about her history and their life together. You can’t possibly come away from it without realizing she’s done a great job softening up a self-proclaimed dog guy by expertly endearing herself to him—something cats are quite good at.
When a cat speaks to you
Larenti was standing outside a few minutes ago when I stepped out. She sat patiently next to the fence and immediately spoke to me when I exited. I turned around, went back inside, and retrieved some food for her.
As I stepped back outside, she again spoke to me. I could tell she was hungry and I was more than happy to oblige her some breakfast.
Even as I knelt to put some food outside the fence for her, she looked directly at me and meowed appreciatively.
Why is this important? I mean, all this kitty talk is normal, right?
Hardly. And it speaks to another reason I felt compelled to rescue Vazra.
Cats do not speak to people unless they learned to do so from people. Like all other animals, the domestic cat is inherently a wild animal that simply has been around people long enough to be malleable insofar as domestication is concerned. As long as a kitten is exposed to people at a young age, they grow accustomed to human company and learn not to fear us as they would normally (which is the difference between a feral cat and a stray/abandoned cat).
The significance of a cat talking directly to a human is that again it represents a personality trait that is not native to felines. They do not naturally understand that speaking to a human can elicit a specific response. In fact, they do not understand natively that speaking is useful at all except in extenuating circumstances (as a warning, for instance, or to communicate with offspring). A cat who did not grow up with people and did not learn from people that talking to them is useful will only talk to other cats—notwithstanding warnings, of course. That is the natural order of the world.
Why do I point this out?
If Larenti, like Vazra before her, is willing to talk to me directly, it shows she is not feral but instead has been abandoned to the streets. She learned at a young age that meowing to a human could produce results. That is not something they learn quickly except when they are young (as with all animals, the older they get, the more set in their ways they become).
It’s common for domestic cats to talk to people when they live with people. If one lives outside and without a home to which they can return, talking to people means they did not start out on the streets but instead grew up in a home where they learned to communicate with humans. That is one of the ways I knew Vazra was neither feral nor a lifelong stray. He’s quite vocal. Not only that, but he loves human interaction and attention. Larenti’s comfort with me proved she was not feral; her willingness to talk to me directly proves she once had a home but was abandoned or rejected.
My Hobson’s choice
Aethon is a beast. After monitoring his proclivities and activities for the last several weeks, I now understand why his continued presence and tendency to hang out and sleep here is negatively impacting the rest of the outside cats. Let me explain.
Larenti once enjoyed a stable schedule which entailed early morning, late morning, afternoon, evening, and late-night feeding sessions. That schedule no longer exists and I now see her sporadically at best.
Clance, while never on a schedule like Larenti, often stopped by for a meal two or three times each day, and sometimes more often than that. I have not seen him for two days, and then only once, and before then his absence spanned almost a week.
Henko is a petite cat who is quite skittish. Her size makes her an easy target for larger cats, so she often sneaks in under the radar so she can eat. Before Aethon’s appearance, she came around perhaps two or three times each day. I rarely see her more than once now, and sometimes not even once.
Psiwa is a new cat I have not mentioned yet but will discuss in a later post. This feline increasingly visited until the last several weeks when suddenly those visits slowed tremendously and became sporadic.
Keep in mind all of these cats sans Aethon inevitably have been tolerant of each other. In fact, Larenti loves other cats and is neither threatened by nor threatening toward them.
What does all of this mean?
I have seen with my own eyes what Aethon does when other cats enter the neighborhood. I mentioned once that his sleeping outside the patio for most of the day could be interpreted as protecting a kill (e.g., hanging close to a reliable food source and keeping it safe from others). It seems clear to me now that is precisely what he is doing. He has chased Henko, Clance, Psiwa, and Larenti as they tried to approach for a bite to eat. Last night was the clincher.
I stepped outside around eleven and Aethon was out there, so I went back inside and grabbed a handful of food before returning to the patio. Keep in mind the timing also coincided with part of the long-standing schedule with Larenti. As I was putting the food down, I saw the cat reacting to something coming from behind me, so I turned to see Larenti peeking around the corner from the direction where she normally sleeps (I assume based on observation). Late night had been her domain for many months. I turned to Aethon and told him to leave her alone, and I even stood up to intimidate him (since Larenti is not bothered by my presence, being close to the fence and moving about will not bother her, but it does trouble and frighten Aethon). My ruse failed to make him think I would stop him if he bothered her (since the fence was between us).
He prepared for attack and launched himself at her. She turned and dashed into the shadows trying to escape. Before I could get over the fence, her wailing and crying pierced the night in a horrible way. Just as I prepared to leap from the fence to the outside world, Aethon casually strolled back around the corner—apparently returning for a meal. I leaped over the fence and chased him away out of anger and resentment (it was nothing more than landing on the outside of the fence and walking toward him, as he is still quite aloof and uncertain about people—probably distrustful as well).
The incident was over so quickly that I barely had time to register what had happened. There is no doubt in my mind that Larenti is fine (albeit perhaps with a new scratch or two, if that much). Her screams were panic and shock, not the calls of a dying or mortally wounded animal. But the damage was done. Her security in our ritual, in our schedule, is shattered. Her feeling of safety when visiting me and having food offered by me suffered a tremendous blow. I suspect this has been going on since Aethon showed up, and my own observations bear out that assumption.
I feel I have only two options. Both are unthinkable yet appear to be my only recourse.
One: Stop feeding them altogether. Having no temptation to hang around my patio would eventually keep them from encountering Aethon, at least under circumstances caused by me. This lends itself to resolving the feeling I have that I am somehow the cause of their suffering at his hands (and yes, I assume Aethon is a male based on personality). Having allowed them to learn I will always provide food and never pose a risk to them, I now feel responsible that the same environment is being violated despite the continuing presence of food.
Two: Take whatever action is necessary to dissuade Aethon from visiting or hanging out. This would be the more difficult of the options. Food availability will continue drawing him in and I cannot remain on guard duty 24 hours each day. It would be impossible for me to intercept him at all times when he might visit. The caveat to the difficulty is that it would allow me to continue feeding the other cats who clearly rely on me to some degree for consistent meals.
I find both options distasteful. I would prefer to keep feeding them. I do not want to intentionally inflict fear of humans on any of the cats.
Regrettably, upon further consideration of my possible solutions, it appears to me to be a Hobson’s choice. That is an idiomatic expression meaning the illusion of a choice that is really no choice at all (not to be confused with picking the lesser of two evils). In this case, the second choice is infinitely more attractive than the first, yet it is impossible to implement and enforce. I would succeed in making Aethon frightened of me personally, yet the presence of food for the others would continually draw him back, only he would be forced to use his best predator instincts so as to avoid me and detection by me. As I already pointed out, it is a delusion to think myself capable of monitoring the area all the time so as to keep him at bay while allowing the others to eat.
Therein lies the Hobson’s choice. I am left with option one as the only recourse available. The temptation of food will keep him coming back. It would also continue placing undue stress and the threat of harm on all the other cats who find no qualms with sharing the resource (they stop by, grab a bite to eat, and move on, but Aethon spends the vast majority of the day haunting the area).
I very much dislike this situation. As beautiful a cat as he is and as increasingly pleasant as he has become, Aethon is now the menace of the food bowl. This state of affairs is unfortunate and upsetting.
[Update] I want you to know it’s been crushing to see Aethon lying out there since about 5:30 this morning. He only just now left (10:20 a.m.). Each time I went outside, he’d give me that longing stare that begged to know why there was nothing to eat and whether there ever would be. I also saw Henko come by earlier, but she ran off the moment she saw him (as she always does). I hate this. A part of me feels I’m being cruel by cutting them off. Part of me feels cruel for thinking it acceptable to try to frighten Aethon away. All of me feels like a disappointment, as though I’ve done something terribly wrong.