...Felineasy Cat Tales...

Socks - A Feral Friend
 

Relaxing on their screen porch on a warm spring night, our family of lady felines was riled by a new visitor prowling nearby.  Exchanging yowls, meows and growls, they greeted or repulsed a new visiting neighbor. A young brown tabby, looking just a few months old, stared through the screen at our assortment of feline societal discards, Bandit, Mandie, Hailey and Kiley. 

Our assortment of girls, rescue cats of assorted colors and ages, were excited and likely afraid of this new guest. This surprise visitor would later become Socks, and he tumbled just outside the screen porch demanding attention and finding his way to our home and life.

 

Becoming a regular evening visitor, we started as usual, some water and then a food dish near the door. The scruffy brown tiger with white paws was truly a character. Likely a barn cat from one of the nearby farms, he became a notorious house guest mostly around sundown. He always stirred a frenzy of response from our feline ladies!  Finally, as you'd expect, after food and water, came a name - Socks! Four white paws made that seem appropriate.

 

Nowhere to be found during daylight hours, he typically clocked in around sundown, yowling for attention. He had a big, round friendly kitty face with yellow eyes and snow-white socks covering each paw.   

 

Gradually he tolerated an occasional gloved hand, petting or touching, but delivered sharp nips and clawing biffs to the friendly hand. Sending a clear feral message of caution! He rolled on his back, he purred and purred, crushing and plowing up the small border flowering plants surrounding the screen porch.

His spirit was dominant and independent. He showed no interest in domestic living.  He had feral feline independence and instinctive survival instincts. He roamed and prowled the rural neighborhood, especially at night.

 

He grew fast and strong and seemed to appreciate the heavy gloved hand that would occasionally softly touch him. But make no mistake, there was no interest in coddling or handling. He was no Lap Cat. Instead he would deliver an instant aggressive message, clawing and biting at the friendly-gloved hand if it became too cozy.

 

We fed him regularly and worried for his welfare; he grew quickly.  Eating voraciously he sprouted like a beanstalk and was quickly a sinewy strong young male.  Always hoping to be better friends, we tried to know him.  Even though he would roll on his back in the new grass and play in the new plantings, along the edge of the screen porch, he had no apparent interest in humanization.

 

He then started to disappear, for a day and sometimes two or three, and did not frequent the water and food just outside near the door. When he returned, it was always at dusk! 

Occasionally we saw him prowling and playing in a marshy area near our home. And, one day as we watched, he stalked a butterfly along the edge of the marsh. At one point leaping high into the air attempting to capture the fluttering wings -- without success! He seemed to enjoy that damp feral home turf.

 

We always looked forward to his visits and worried about his survival. His dominance and his arrogance prevailed, and his acceptance of food hand outs was lessened. He kept his feral distance and seemed to delight in the chaos he created with our ladies. He was maturing to a beautiful brown tabby with a spray of white around his chubby face. 

 

Summer wore on to autumn and days shortened, and the Wisconsin evenings cooled.  More independent now, Socks became an occasional visitor, always at dusk!  He would yowl and peer through the screen mesh with persistence, claiming attention, and then he would steal off into the fading evening light.

 

He became sort of a celebrity, with his visiting and his arrogant independence.  But as autumn slipped away, we knew he would soon face the oncoming harsh Wisconsin winter. Could he survive? Were others helping him as we did? Should he be captured and interned to a shelter? His feral prospects seemed bleak!

The days slipped by! September, then October and finally November!  Wisconsin winter that season came harsh and fast and as October turned November forming Winter's fury.

 

With no lasting interest in humanization or friendship beyond his short visitations, we fashioned a makeshift shelter for him in the garage with easy access from outdoors. Hopefully it would protect him from weather that lie just ahead.

Attempts to lure him to the safety of the makeshift shelter failed. He refused! He was fearful, and in his rebellious way, chose not to move in! He was less interested in shelter than food. Many evenings passed without visits but we routinely found the food dish emptied. But the makeshift shelter totally ignored.

 

Finally came a bitter cold snap, and a snow storm with sweeping high winds. It seemed certain he could not survive. But, for a time he continued visits for food, always rejecting the safety of the garage and the makeshift hotel inside.  His footprints prevailed throughout the neighborhood especially toward the nearby marsh.

 

Frustrated with his rejection, we were puzzled by such independence. He periodically dined at dusk and disappeared for days before returning.  Never more friendly than a few gentle strokes with the leather jump glove.  He maintained his distance, independence, and dominance.

Winter turned brutally harsh.  Snow fell, the wind was fierce, cold became bitter. Then, a final path away from the emptied food dish, diminishing paw prints marked his exit into the bitter snowy night. His final steps into the snowy abyss, away from shelter and away from food!

The familiar yowling and the footprints disappeared that night. And, the next day, snow gradually filled the hollowed paw prints where they trailed away from the house toward the marsh, finally disappearing with blowing wind and new falling snow.  Socks never visited our home again.

 

Night after night passed and Socks never returned for his evening meal. We missed the ruckus he caused our feline girls! And, worried over his survival. He never returned to the warm shelter that could protect him. Pondering his rejection, we recognized the strength in his instinctive strong feral character. 

He left a memory of arrogance, independence, and confidence, without compromise.  Giving just enough, and taking just enough, while protecting his independence. Perhaps he delivered a life lesson to our doorstep.

 

We are almost certain that Socks did not survive that awful Wisconsin winter, and that he will never visit again. But, we routinely talk of his escapades and reflect on his ruckus causing feral spirit, and his heart, his character, and his choice of friendly but dominate independence. And - we miss his yowling night symphonies.