Feline Lysine

Monday morning, the fourth week of September, and my youngest toddler cat's bowl of breakfast in the living room, suddenly joggled by the convulsions of a hairball.

I rushed inside and whip across the sea lined the dining room beside the kitchen vinyl. Nearby, I trip on the hem of my nightgown Lace and land on my hip, the cat is in my hands, hung over me like a football, plucked from midair that I ride on line goal and hairball leaves it on the vinyl floor.

My husband breaks into her couch, reading the newspaper, then bounded into the kitchen when he sees me fall with the cat. But I laugh, unharmed and happy to deliver the carpet from the threat of disorder hairballs.

When we were married for six months, my husband found a kitten wild behind the garbage in our building and brought it to me. I have adopted and rescued wild cats since. Sometimes, a single cat appears. Other times, I am concerned about feral cat colonies, scraping their injuries and illnesses, the practice of fishing / fix / release method until I can find a good home for them.

My last living feral colony in the woods behind my house and peaked at twenty-one cats and kittens last year. After four months of harvest, fixation, and release them, I started looking for good homes for them and for now, only nine are left, lounging on my porch back to the sun and frolic in the forest at night.

After twenty-seven years of cat rescue, I developed a few tips for dog training and socialization stray wild. Or maybe it's just that my unconventional methods work particularly well. While most allow an abundance of wild cats of the area the first week, I plug in a persistent stray dog, drawing it closer and closer, using soft words and food to calm the fears of the cat. Because I am also a Wiccan witch, I often use a song of the goddess, invoking the fairy forest to help me in this quest that I sing to stray I'm harassment:

"Bast great lady, ancient goddess of cats,
my voice through your sacred dance.
Faeries air, rivers, flames, and the tree
Driving this cat like your precious child to me. "

For a day or so I walk back to the food I leave, allowing the cat hungry to eat in peace. But after that, I am a few meters from the bowl, inching closer each time, forcing the cat to tolerate my presence. This aggressive strategy gentle but maintains my advantage, slowly pushing the cat beyond his comfort zone, using food as my main tool. Soon I am standing next to the toilet, singing or talking in a low voice chat so he could add my voice to safe and tasty food. That's when I touch the cat for the first time, his back while you eat. It is often the first experience of a wild cat with human contact, and he will bolt, run away in terror. But it always comes back to eat the next day and I continue to touch the hand rest on her dress a little more each time, trust, until my fingers trip and back of the cat, its tail soaring, and it quickly runs to me when I called, also want to be pampered as fed.

Now, sitting in front of the sliding glass door, I laugh like all of my indoor cats competing for my knees. It is difficult to believe that these four were once skittish feral cats have claimed in nature with soft words and fairy spells.

* * * * *

During signings at bookstores and cat shows, someone will always ask that I think about ups and downs in the life of a bobcat. " I tell them I think the cats fairies who took the animal form to bless us the possibility of loving and giving.

Recently, I thought Petunia, one of my feral cats a little over a year, who died in June of heart failure. A sweet, shy, beloved cat of all, because she loved to groom others in the colony. A unique spirit, WH.