Jul 11 2010
Three months have passed since we unsuccessfully launched the covert kitten operation, to sneak up on Felix, trap him and get him neutered. We didn’t expect him to go quietly but we assumed we’d surprise him before he knew what was happening. Instead, he surprised us by forcing open the cat carrier door and fleeing the scene. That was back in April and I allotted us the spring to win back Felix’s trust.
Well, that hasn’t happened yet. But over time, he has dropped his guard.
So just the other day Martin, the one-handed-bird-catcher, donned fire-retardant gloves, channeled inner croc wrestling skills, and pounced on an unsuspecting Felix, whose head was buried in a food dish.
Once he pinned Felix inside the crate, the trick was to remove his gloved hand without letting the cat escape. On the count of three he extracted his hand while I slammed the carrier door and I quickly drove Felix to the vet. He yowled all the way.
That afternoon I retrieved him. I set the cat box on the cool barn floor and unlatched the door. He slunk out, cast a dirty look over his shoulder, and sped out the barn doors.
“Well,” I thought, “that’s the last we see of you. At least you won’t leave a trail of kittens in your wake.”
But since the big snip, Felix has turned a corner. He’s not bumping up against our legs, but we can pet him and he’s even joined the crew of cats who accompany us on dog walks. I don’t think he’ll ever be as friendly as Spook, but he’s coming around.