You would not really think a childhood home – a loving parent’s home – would be the place to get attacked by a feral cat… Unless you know my mom. I’m sure those who know me well are not surprised by the title of this blog.
I don’t think there’s a person on this earth who loves cats more than my mother. She’s always had a bunch of cats inside and a bunch of feral cat communities outside. She names them, traps them, gets them fixed and releases them back into her yard where they live happily ever after.
She feeds them multiple times a day. She looks like the Pied Piper, marching down the sidewalk with her tray full of cat food, feral cats just marching behind her. She gets them heated beds for the winter.
She even had a shed built, not for gardening tools, but for the cats. When it was being built, my sisters and I said, “Oh, great! We can put all our gardening stuff in there!” and she said, “No no. That’s just a house for the cats.” She has sun loungers in there for them. You get the idea. She has the kindest heart, and she’s the biggest animal lover.
She names all of her outdoor cats. One was named Whiny Pants, and another one was named Fancy Pants. I remember one time poor Whiney Pants was sick. Mom was on the phone with the vet and we were in the other room. She was speaking loudly and clearly, “Whiny Pants! Whiny Pants Schrager.” She was clearly frustrated that whoever was on the other line was not understanding that cat’s name. I think she even spelled it out. W-H-I-N…
We were all giggling in the next room, feeling bad, of course, because Whiny Pants was sick and that part was not funny.
So, it’s not unusual for there to be a feral cat or two inside my mom‘s house. A feral cat who my mom cannot quite catch yet. A feral cat who my mom cannot even pet yet. She will even woo the cat for weeks until, eventually, the cat will let her pet him. But only her. If anyone else tries to pet him, he will freak out. After a couple more weeks like that hopefully the cat will let my mom catch him and trap him. It’s a good plan, but it doesn’t always work like that.
My mom actually has an indoor cat that acts like a feral cat. Charlie loves my mom and my mom can pet her and snuggle with her but everyone else just stays away. Charlie has never attacked any of us, but we also have never given her a chance to. She will growl and so we just stay far away from Charlie. One time Charlie was on the counter with her paw on my sister‘s water bottle. I took a picture and sent it to her and asked her if she was going to come and get her water bottle. She wrote back that she would rather die of thirst than get near Charlie and that water bottle. She said she would just buy a new one.
I recently went home for Easter and Mom had taken in another feral cat that she named Buddy. She claims that Buddy was getting beat up outside by another cat and, one day, he just wandered inside her house, so she decided to let him stay. She’s waiting until he gets used to her and she will trap him and take him and get him fixed. Buddy has been in her house for about two months, but she still can’t catch him. She says, sometimes he will let her pet him. She uses kindness and love to get these cats to trust her, no matter how long it takes. She did say that, sometimes, Buddy will walk on her bed while she’s sleeping, and then she hides under her covers until he goes away because she is scared of him. So, I really didn’t think too much of Buddy. It’s just another cat to stay away from. Mom says he doesn’t really come out when strangers are around.
My mom has another cat named Rascal. Poor sweet Rascal has stopped eating and is getting skinnier and skinnier every day. He is the sweetest little thing and mom fears she doesn’t have too much longer with him. She mentioned that she has seen Rascal beat up Buddy, though.
I wasn’t thinking about Mom’s new indoor feral cat. I wasn’t worried. After all, it’s not the first feral cat in my mom’s house.
I had a lovely first couple days. Mom and I stayed up late, drinking wine and talking about old memories. I had that safe, happy, cozy feeling you have when you go home.
On the third day I was there, I walked up the stairs, I turned the corner and all of a sudden I felt intense pain on the back of my leg. I thought I’d been shot or something! I haven’t felt pain like that since childbirth! Did someone shoot a bow and arrow through the window into my leg? Is it one of those ninja star things? Have I been being stalked? And watched? Did they know the exact time my mom went to the grocery store to attack me through the window of her house? Do I have any enemies? Could it be the government?
I couldn’t figure out what happened, but it took me a few seconds to realize there was a cat clinging to the back of my leg. And he wasn’t letting go. I walked across the room thinking maybe I could get him off, but that didn’t work. I couldn’t even kick my leg because he had it so tightly I couldn’t move it. My mom was at the grocery store and I thought I was just going to be stuck with a cat on my leg until she got home. I screamed. “Stop!” thinking that might scare him off.
I tried to kick my leg, but the cat was too big and had such a strong hold on it.
Then I randomly just started, singing, “Rock-a-bye, baby,” hoping maybe my cool, soothing singing voice would make him calm down and fall asleep. When my kids were babies, my singing voice made them cry harder. I don’t know why I thought my singing would help.
Then I practiced yoga breaths. Even though I don’t really do yoga, I was just trying to think of something to calm me down.
Then I tried speaking to him like a therapist would. Not that I’m a therapist, but I know therapists. “Geez, Buddy., What’s with all the aggression? Was someone mean to you once? Do you want to talk about it? Do you need a hug?” Although I was hoping he would say no because there was no way on earth I was hugging that cat. But maybe really Buddy just needs a hug. But whoever attempts it should probably wear whatever that outfit is that people wear for fencing.
I was about to offer him a granola bar and a nap because that usually worked with my kids when I felt him release himself from my leg.
Very, very slowly I turned around and I saw Rascal smacking Buddy across the face. Did Rascal save my life? Later, while retelling this story, my nephew renamed Rascal, Hero Cat. I think that name will stick. He was definitely my hero that day.
I ran to the bathroom to check my wounds and Buddy was very slowly stalking me and following me. I closed myself in the bathroom and, although I was wearing thick sweatpants, there was blood just running down both sides of my legs.
I went to the kitchen to get wet paper towels and soap, and once again Buddy was stalking me. I grabbed whatever spray bottle that was on the kitchen counter and started spraying him until he left me alone. I guess Buddy literally wanted another piece of me. I mopped up all the blood I noticed one part was already starting to bruise.
My mom came home and helped bandage me up. She also chased Buddy into my old room with a broom and locked him inside.
Shortly after, the whole family came over and we all sat around Googling rabies and cat bites. My mother got bitten by one of her feral cats last year, and she did need to get the rabies shots. She was under the impression that it was just scratches and I didn’t need to go to urgent care, but upon further inspection, there were two large teeth marks in the back of my leg so far apart, no one could understand how a cat could open its mouth that wide.
It was clear, after a little Googling, that I needed to go to urgent care. From our Googling, we decided that I was probably safe from rabies because the cat had been in my mom‘s house for two months, but I would definitely need an antibiotic to prevent possible infection.
I guess animal bites are pretty serious and need to be reported to animal control. At urgent care they needed the name and address of the owner, but I left that blank because Buddy doesn’t really have an owner. He’s a free spirit. He’s a wanderer. He’s homeless. He’s just been living in my mom‘s house for two months. Freeloader.
But they insisted, and I felt awful. I was contemplating lying and making up my mom‘s name and my mom‘s address, but I know lying is bad and I know it can’t be that serious. Besides, I was thinking they have my name and address so they could always come after me for lying! I pictured myself sitting in a prison cell for lying to urgent care about a feral cat.
Later, talking to my mom, she was fully aware of that, and she said animal control would come and talk to her. I should’ve expected this with all of her feral cat experience. I can’t imagine how many times she had animal control come to our house regarding a feral cat.
The doctor asked a lot of questions, recorded the conversation, and took pictures of my bites. She was not worried about rabies and says rabies is actually rare in cats. It’s more wild animals like raccoons and foxes that would have rabies. She gave me antibiotics and did say if I haven’t had a tetanus shot in the last 10 years I would need to get one within seven days. I called my doctor on the way home and luckily I had one in 2019. It’s like I was preparing for this.
Driving home from the urgent care, I was thinking that I’ve had this lingering cold for weeks. And I kept contemplating whether I should go and get antibiotics for it. Well, it looks like Buddy decided that I need antibiotics for my cough. He probably had been listening to my cough the last couple days and decided that something needed to be done. Who knew he had a medical degree also? His methods seem unconventional though, and I don’t know of a doctor’s office that would actually hire him. But I hope these antibiotics clear up my cough. Thank you, Buddy.
That night, my mom and I settled down to watch TV. Rachel Maddow is her favorite. She turns it on and the very first thing Rachel says is,
“It’s safe to say that it is never a good time to get rabies. But, if you are going to get rabies at some time in your life, do please try not to get it while Donald Trump is President of the United States.” It seems recent budget cuts at the CDC means they’re no longer testing for or tracking rabies like they used to.
Mom and I froze and looked at each other… and then busted out laughing.
I’m sure you did not realize that Trump got rid of rabies testing so I’m sure you’re very thankful that you read my blog. Now you can be extra careful and keep from getting rabies for the next 1012 days at least.
Buddy stayed locked up in the back bedroom for the rest of our trip. My mom, of course, felt terrible that I got hurt and she said maybe it was a sign that she couldn’t tame this one and that she should just put him back outside. But I know she won’t. I know after she waved goodbye to us she couldn’t wait to get back inside to let Buddy out out of the back bedroom.
Because isn’t that just like a mom? Loving you anyway, despite everything. You can hurt her loved ones, you can pee all over her house, you can even attack her, but still, she will keep loving you. She will forgive you in an instant. She will keep believing in you and she will keep trying. Buddy is lucky to have my mom. We are all lucky to have my mom.
But my mom is NOT so lucky to have Buddy. I’m hopping on Amazon now and buying my mom an adult fencing outfit. It’s only $500 but she’s worth it.
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Cooking Failures 
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