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Feral Cats

Feral Cat Control

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feral cat removal

There’s a reason I wear thick jeans when I go to work as a feral cat control officer.  Some people prefer loose-fitting khakis with lots of pockets, or shorts when the weather gets really hot.  I didn’t normally discuss the fashion choices available to feral cat control officers, until the incident.  Now, I bring it up with all the new guys, just so they know what could happen to them.

The day of the incident was an extremely hot day, but our washer had broken down and my shorts and khakis were both in the wash, so I was stuck with wearing thick jeans with the brown animal control shirt my company has issued to us.  Grumbling, I headed into the office, grabbed a cold soda out of the machine and picked up my assignments for the day.  It was going to be a pretty easy morning, it looked like.  I had a nice, air-conditioned drive ahead of me out to a more remote area where someone wanted feral cat control to trap a stray cat that had been spotted in the neighborhood.

So, I stopped grumbling, hopped in the truck and headed out.  It was an hour and a half drive, and I was relaxed and in a good mood when I finally pulled up to the client’s house.  He explained that the reason he’d called for feral cat control is because a white cat had been roaming the neighborhood, getting into people’s garages, attacking people’s pets, and using his own backyard as its personal toilet.  He’d had enough and wanted feral cat control to get rid of the cat.

I went about setting up a trap in an area the client pointed out to me.  Apparently the cat preferred living in and around a wood pile in his backyard.  Fortunately, as soon as I started setting up the trap, I spotted the cat watching me.  Slowly, I reached my gloved hand out, making soft mewling sounds, and the cat immediately approached me, sniffing my hand.  Quickly, I snapped it up and held it in the crook of my arm to secure it while I grabbed a collar and leash that I carry with me.  I was surprised at how easily I got the collar and leash on it, and even more surprised that the cat started to purr and exposed its neck so I could pet it.  It was very sweet, and I wondered if it truly was a feral cat, or if it had been a domestic cat dumped out here.

I didn’t have to wonder long, though.  Suddenly, without any warning, the cat leaped up onto my shoulder, and then clawed its way down my back.  I twisted around to let it jump safely to the ground, holding tightly onto the leash so I could regain control of this wild cat.  It went up on its hind legs, hissing and spitting and clawing at the leash holding it captive.  But, when it finally realized it wasn’t going anywhere, it went on the offensive.  It ran around my leg three times, shortening its leash as it did so, and then grabbed my denim-clad leg, clawing its way up, up, up until its claws sunk into my thigh far too close to my unmentionables.  It hung there, tenacious, as I gasped and grappled with this wild animal.  Finally, I was able to tear it off my leg and get it into the trap and then into the truck.  I had to sit in the truck for about ten minutes until I regained enough composure to let the client know I had gotten rid of the wild cat.

And, that is why thick jeans are now an official part of my feral cat control uniform.  I will never wear anything else.

Feral Cats

How To Get Rid Of Feral Cats

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“John, we’ve got to get someone who knows how to get rid of feral cats out here as soon as possible if we’re going to have any chance of selling the house.”

“I just wish your Dad never fed them.  They just keep coming back and breeding right there on the property.”

“I know, I know.  I keep telling him, but he swears they’re all his pets.”

“His pets?  But there’s got to be at least twenty of them.  The neighbors say they’re out there yowling day and night and one of them clawed its way into their crawlspace the other night.  They kind of hinted that we pay for the damage.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, John.  It was hard enough to get him to agree to move out of the house and into the condo we got him in the senior community close by.  It’s just killing me to see him going through this, especially so soon after Mom passed away.”

“But, he seems like he’s enjoying himself there.  There’s so much less for him to have to take care of.  He can just be himself, work on his birdhouses, and not have to worry about mowing or weeding or anything else.  But, hon, I know this is hard on you, too.  You’ve been a champion handling everything.”

“And you’ve been wonderful and so supportive.  It’s just so hard to be packing up his house, all the memories, all the stuff.  And, then to have to deal with this, these feral cats.  I keep going out there and trying to scare them off myself.  I’d hoped that they’d just go away since I convinced Dad to stop feeding them.  It’s just no good.  Lisa suggested we try playing really loud music to try to get them to leave, but you know how my sister is.  Can you imagine what Dad’s neighbors would say then?”

“Yes, well, Lisa’s not here, is she?  Probably a good thing.”

“Ha!  I’ll say!  Well, I think we can probably have the house packed up in another few days, and then I’ll clean it.  I’ll feel better showing the house when it’s cleaned and . . . “

“And if we just got rid of those feral cats?”

“Exactly.  I haven’t been out to the shed yet, but I’m afraid they may have really done some damage in there, or to the shed itself.  There’s an awful smell coming from there.”

“Tell you what, hon.  You’ve got enough on your mind.  Let me worry about the shed.  In fact, let me make the phone call and get a professional out here who knows how to get rid of feral cats.”

“That would be such a help!  Then, I can call the realtor and we can put the house on the  market.  It’s hard enough, I can’t wait for this all to be over.”

“I know, but you’ve been handling it great.  We’ll do it together.  And, it helps to know you’re doing the best for your Dad, right?”

“Thanks for that.  Yes, he even said he’s got a date tonight.  Can you believe that?  Already!”

“Really?  Does she like cats?”

Feral Cats

Feral Cat Problems

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Nah, we don’t have a feral cat problem, do we?  I mean, sure, I’ve noticed a lot of feral cats wandering the neighborhood and the farms around here, but that’s just nature, right?  They stick to the farm and get rid of the rodents in the area, and we’re all good.

Okay, sure, sometimes there’s the nighttime activities, the yowling, the fighting, the hissing.  But, what am I supposed to do about it?  They’re just cats, and harmless enough.  My neighbor even puts food out every night to feed them, and they sometimes let her pet them.  So, they can’t be all that bad.

Or so I thought.  I didn’t realize just how bad a feral cat problem could be, and then I got a first-hand lesson.

I was startled out of my sleep one night by a terrific crash and banging coming from my garage.  I had no idea what was going on, but, my heart pounding, I ran down there to see what on earth was happening.  A feral cat had somehow gotten in there, attracted by the warmth, I think, and made an unholy mess.  My work bench looked like someone had just given it a really good shake.  The box with my holiday decorations was overturned.  The window screen was torn and the shade covering the window was shredded and lying on the floor.  The place smelled like cat urine.  My dog was howling and barking and waking up the rest of the neighborhood, I was sure.  At least he was in the house, still.

I had to look around to locate the cat, but I guess it felt cornered, because it hissed mightily and came right at me, streaking by my leg.  I finally came to my senses long enough to open the garage door a little so it could get out.

What if it had gotten inside the house?  It could have really done some damage in my kitchen or laundry room.  Would it have attacked my dog?  Who knows what parasites are on it.  Fleas, ticks, mites.  Yuck!  I don’t want those in my house.  No, if my neighbor wants to feed them, that’s her business.  But, I’m not going to stand for wild animals destroying my things and infesting my home.

Okay, I feel bad for the lady next door, because I know she loves these little wild animals.  Granted, from a distance, they’re sweet-looking, all fuzzy and cute.  But, I got to deal with one up close and it’s not so cute anymore.  The only thing I know to do is to call a professional wild animal removal service to take care of my feral cat problem.  If they’ll handle it discreetly, maybe we can make sure I don’t have to spend late nights cleaning up their mess in my garage anymore.