How saving a stray saved me

Last year, my partner and I found a tiny cat crouched underneath the bushes surrounding our apartment complex.

We had just been talking about adopting a second cat, and like kismet, she was there. Overly excited about our discovery, we quickly put out food and waited for her to approach. By then, she had travelled across the parking lot and was fearful of our interest in her. She reluctantly accepted the food, eating like she had never before but still cautious of us observing her.

We discussed the likelihood of being able to scoop her up right then, but she was gone before we could act.

The first day we found a young cat in our bushes.

A few days had gone by with no sight of the mysterious tortoiseshell kitten. We had already been in the process of applying to adopt, and wound up taking home a beautiful black and white kitten named Sadie Clove. We were over the moon about expanding our kitty family, and virtually forgot all about the cat in the bushes. Hardly two days after bringing home Sadie, the tortie miraculously appeared on our patio, with a look on her face that said “You thought I wouldn’t be back?”

We started leaving food out for her each day, waiting for her erratic visits that eventually became predictable. With winter approaching, we were concerned about her well-being, but also conflicted by the fact that we had just adopted a second cat in a one-bedroom apartment. With a tight space and budget, we provided for her by offering endless meals and a straw-filled cat shelter.

At this point, we still were unsure if she belonged to someone and was simply manipulating us for extra snacks, or if she was another stray community cat without a home. Once she started greeting us at the sliding door and spending most of her time on our patio, we quickly realized that the cat distribution system had selected us as this little girl’s caretakers.

Our semi-feral cat guarding her new outdoor house.

We also realized that her human socialization experience was minimal. After a while, she stopped running away when we walked outside, but still demanded a comfortable distance from us. We couldn’t pet her—only she could “pet” us (rubbing against our legs while feeding her.) Despite our insistence that we couldn’t take on a third cat already, we spent countless hours out there with her, engaging her in interactive play and maintaining her outdoor space so that she could feel as comfortable as possible.

We gave her a name: Chiclet.

That’s when we knew we were attached to her and had to save her. She would watch our cats through the window, attempting to play with them and rub up against the glass. I couldn’t stand to think about her yearning to join them inside while she shivered in the cold winter air.

I contacted several rescues in hopes to find a low-cost option to have her vaccinated and spayed—to no surprise, they were overwhelmed with all of the other cats in need. Finally, I secured a spay appointment for her. Because we were still unable to touch her, I borrowed a humane trap and carefully planned my operation.

“Operation Chiclet” failed miserably, mostly because she was unconventionally smart and recognized the trap. The day before her appointment, she was gone. We were heartbroken.

A week later, she reappeared; this time, limping and crying. I felt horrible that I didn’t act sooner. After this visit, she was gone again. This time, for longer.

We were at a loss on what to do next. This wasn’t our cat, but we took care of her and wanted to help her. Our next move was one that was labelled as “crazy” by anyone we’ve told our story to: putting up flyers for a semi-feral cat. It was a reach, but we felt that we owed it to her to try.

Extraordinarily, I began to receive messages from strangers with Chiclet sightings. These tips relieved us to know that she was alive and okay, but we still had no idea how we would get her. A few weeks later, I received a call from two women from the condominiums next door that they have been feeding a small, tortoiseshell cat they called Philip.

A photo sent to us of a “Chiclet sighting.”

“THAT’S CHICLET!”

These two women became perfect strangers. We got permission to frequent their courtyard, calling for Chiclet and hoping to reunite with her. When we finally saw her again, she looked shocked that we found her (us, too.)

It was clear that her time away had hindered the progress we had been making with her socially, so trapping her would be even more of a challenge than before.

Everything we tried failed, and I took to local Facebook groups for support. I was connected with an Animal Control officer that agreed to help us trap her—and it WORKED! By this point, I was gravely concerned that she was pregnant, which proved to be true upon her first vet visit (the same one that resulted in a “possibly unable to domesticate” note on her report…we’ll see about that.)

“Operation Save Chiclet” achieved!

I had no experience with pregnant cats or newborn kittens, so I was anxious about taking her in. However, a local wildlife rehabber graciously offered to foster her while she raised her kittens and assist in adopting them out.

On June 8—seven months after we first found her—Chiclet gave birth to seven healthy, beautiful babies, who all found forever homes. On July 29, in our new spacious apartment, we brought Chiclet and her seven-week-old orange boy to their forever home. She was scared and confused, but after decompressing, it was clear that she knew she was safe.

Chiclet’s litter of seven on their way to their first veterinary visit.

Chiclet receiving emotional support from her baby boy, Hemingway, after her spay appointment.

Now, Chiclet takes naps on our warm couch rather than crunchy straw. She plays with her kitty siblings and son and safely enjoys the fresh air through a sunny window. She is still shy and avoids physical contact, but has adapted to the indoors beautifully. We are thoroughly satisfied with allowing her to trust on her own terms while showing her the joys of safe, domesticated life.

Saving her saved me.

A year later, I think back to the skinny little girl in the bushes and sigh in relief knowing she is safe, happy and healthy. There is something so especially rewarding about giving Chiclet a chance she otherwise never would have had. While many people make the same excuses we made as to why they can’t save a stray, her story proves that it is not only possible, but worth it. We love her endlessly, and thank her every day for saving us through saving her.