Jul 16 2010
Three months have passed since we unsuccessfully launched operation kitten capture. Our plan was to sneak up on Felix, catch him and get him neutered. We never expected him to go quietly but with the element of surprise, we assumed he’d be easy pickings. Instead, he surprised us by forcing open the cat box door and fleeing the scene. Since then, I allotted us April, May and June to win back Felix’s trust.
Well, we never earned his trust but over time, he’s dropped his guard.
So just the other day Martin, the one-handed-bird-catcher, donned fire-retardant gloves, recalled Steve Irwin’s tips on croc wrestling, 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 arm without letting the cat escape. On the count of three he extracted his hand while I slammed the carrier door and I 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 streaked outside.
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 doesn’t bump up against our legs, but we can pet him and he’s joined the cat crew that accompanies us on dog walks.