Feral Life

I woke up to the sound of pouring rain and cats on my porch. There's nothing I can do if they love the comfort of their newfound shelter during rainy dayz. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the keeper of the seven cats, yet. I'm not immune to the smell of cats, yet. I don't discriminate against dogs by shooing the one who is alone and cold at the corner, yet. I would not resort to being a full-time Catwoman in case there's absolutely no hope to humanity, yet. These cats just happened to hang around my porch looking for food and shelter during these tough times, keeping each other warm, looking after one another, licking each other. Here you go, the safety and security of a feral cat community. Faith in catnity restored.

And of course, Feliz my very own pampered and sheltered cat does not belong to the tribe. For one, Feliz is a very shallow cat as you can see below. Feral cats have to meet their basic needs first while my cat has already moved up to the next level of the pyramid. He just needs basic fellow cat attention and affection. However, it seems that nobody likes him here. It can be hard to get into the circle, the usual tribalistic feel. Ever since we've moved here, he faced nothing but the territorial cats' hostility. I can understand as most of the time, he just likes to fool around, compete for handouts, and annoy the hell out of the other cats and humans without a care. He's too spoiled for a cat due to concentrated love and attention that were given to him. As a result, he does not belong to everyone.

Whenever I get the chance to be away from my keyboard, I must admit that my only form of meditation these days is to observe the secret lives of feral cats. Anything that takes my eyes off the screen. Now I wonder if these cats have homes or do they just like to hang around here waiting for the perfect time to turn me into a Catwoman heroine/villain/anti-human. I don't know. I am also waiting for that time to finally come at some point in my life.

It is hard for me to hate this potential cute bunch of fleabags and God knows what diseases, for one, I was once a feral cat in my previous life. I can tell how unpleasant this Darwinian lifestyle can be. There was some attempt to control and tame my intricate self, but all without success. The feral cat belongs to the wild open space and cannot be restrained however lonely that freedom seems to be.

Being yourself anywhere has its price. I can relate to the sufferings of being a free-roaming cat. I used to have a high-activity life too. Crossing borders, moving around, not knowing where to sleep, too stressful of a life and too present-focused. I lived outdoors and risked myself to potential danger and hostility. I got either, tribalistic and hostile groups, or nice yet judgmental people. Hit or miss, mind you. It's not all that bad though, I have experienced good communities too. That's just the world as we know it. Faith in humanity restored.

Feral cats live outdoors and have little or no human contact at all. All they think about all day is how to survive. Unowned cats have to find or hunt food to survive especially during rainy days, even if that means submitting to the narcissistic alpha cat, who is none other than yours truly.

What's any wild creature has to do? To imply that their lives are worthless because they are hard is, frankly, ridiculous. Let them be wherever they are and don't get involved in other cat wars by being such alpha cats. Who knows? Someday, they won't be moving around anymore.

Love or hate the feral cats.