Bailing Cats from Jail

While I was blissfully on vacation, a neighbor who is inclined to think of cats as dirty and dangerous called the City animal control. Before my neighbor-who-feeds-cats contacted them to let them know we were getting them neutered and giving them rabies shots, five had been impounded. The day after I arrived home, I was learning my way through impoundment bureaucracy.

It turns out cats are required to wear a city-issued license along with proof of rabies vaccine, just like dogs. No household can have more than ten cats without a license for a kennel. And, cats are forbidden to stray onto other people’s property. Another ordinance, which we didn’t discuss, forbids fences higher than six or so feet, so I’m not quite sure how they expect people to meet that particular requirement.

Two of the cats were the last of the Golden Girls who I hadn’t caught yet. Because they hadn’t been neutered, I was fined. However, both the City and the Shelter staff worked to help keep the cost down. The City gave me two weeks to take care of the cats. The State will reimburse their fine. When I showed up the next morning with proof of neutering and rabies vaccination, they were astonished. “I took them straight to my vet and he was willing to take care of them.” It turned out that they were boys, the easier surgery. (In fact, all the Golden Girls are boys, so someone suggested they could be called the Golden Dudes.)

“Why so many cats?” the officer asked me. I know the city isn’t generally in favor of TNR (Trap, Neuter, Release), so I said, “I doubt you are in favor of TNR, but that is basically what I’ve been doing.” I didn’t say what I wanted to, “What I would like to hear is ‘Thank you for trying to keep the cat population under control.’” Nor did I say, “You know what, I wasn’t really looking for this job, but they showed up at my door, and one thing led to another and it’s not clear to me now who has benefitted the most from this arrangement, me or the cats. In fact, I attribute a lot of my growing recognition of true nature to their guidance.”

There were moments of high drama, including the way I expressed anger to the neighbor who called the authorities. And tearful expression of my upset and grief was stimulated by a volunteer at the shelter who was the first to express appreciation to me--she too belongs to Alley Cat Allies. She said, “It’s a new day at the shelter--talk to the director. You don’t have to feel alone in what you are doing.”

Before I left for my trip, I had gotten two “directives” in a meditation: make a flyer to take around to neighbors to let them know that we are working hard to stabilize the population and keep the cats healthy and to call us if they have concerns or want to be involved in our endeavor; and engage in conversation and effort with people who are trying to shift the attitude toward feral cats in this town. This experience motivates me to keep to this guidance.

When I inquired into my rage, here is what I saw--under is a deep, deep sorrow that we humans have become so disconnected from life that we see “others” as others. Creatures to hate or fear or wish to disappear. “I was afraid my kids would get sick,” the neighbor said.

I have no doubt that the cats pooping in their small yard is a nuisance, but I wish she had called to ask us to do things to prevent that. She knew we were taking care of cats, but she didn’t know we were getting them neutered and being sure they got rabies vaccine. (Which may or may not be useful, but it is the law so I made a choice to comply.) Perhaps if she had felt more connected to our efforts, or to neighbors in general, the first call would not have been to the city.

“Be careful of visibility,” a friend cautions. “These efforts can backfire and suddenly strict enforcement of the law shows up on your block.” I had already come to that conclusion. But I do see an opening here and something my heart is interested in following. Again, this wasn’t part of my plan, but it has arrived and is asking for attentiveness.

The good news is that none of the five were destroyed. Some other sweet, sweet cats in jail will not be so lucky. I am in awe of people who work at the shelter as staff or volunteers and manage to stay human. Eventually, I hope, all shelters will be no-kill shelters. Los Angeles is apparently very close to that goal. There are many in New Mexico working toward this “impossible dream”.

In the meantime, I take to heart the mantra that Puffer Vasu reminds me to follow: “Everything is good. Do what you can. Everything is good.”