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Go find your own pillow, this one is already taken . . .
Cats
- Thread starter OneWheelPeel
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We have been cat rescuers forever. Currently have four and a big goofy dog. The most we had was seventeen that we rescued for forest fire evacuation. Have brought two home from Mexico, both have adapted well to sub arctic Canada. This one is my current fave. Chika. She was semi feral and living in the thatch roof of our place in Mexico. Have had her here since December 2020.
OneWheelPeel
Well-Known Member
17 is a lot. I’m taking one of the cats to the vet this weekend and will get flea meds, the vet will usually let me also buy for all the cats at the same time. I did a head count and if I include most of the strays I feed every day I’ll need 16 doses! Some of those strays have a lot of flea dust so I guess the vet will get paid well!
YY1
Well-Known Member
See if you can find "lufenuron".
For a while, it was the best flea med available.
Taken internally as a powder.
Prevents chitin from forming an exoskeleton, therefore stopping maturation beyond larva/pupa stage.
Incredibly effective. We were able to reduce the dosage and frequency by 66% (from one capsule every 30 days to 1/3 capsule every 90 days).
"Capstar" or the generic equivalent is also an internal med that causes fleas to bite and then poisons them.
You can get the Lufenuron in a spray product called "Archer". Kind of expensive but goes a long way.
We used it to treat a 100 ft outdoor perimeter annually. As a bonus, that also controls other insect yard pests.
After those steps, our inside/outside cats never had fleas again until we brought them all in about 6 years later due to a hawk family moving in.
For a while, it was the best flea med available.
Taken internally as a powder.
Prevents chitin from forming an exoskeleton, therefore stopping maturation beyond larva/pupa stage.
Incredibly effective. We were able to reduce the dosage and frequency by 66% (from one capsule every 30 days to 1/3 capsule every 90 days).
"Capstar" or the generic equivalent is also an internal med that causes fleas to bite and then poisons them.
You can get the Lufenuron in a spray product called "Archer". Kind of expensive but goes a long way.
We used it to treat a 100 ft outdoor perimeter annually. As a bonus, that also controls other insect yard pests.
After those steps, our inside/outside cats never had fleas again until we brought them all in about 6 years later due to a hawk family moving in.
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OneWheelPeel
Well-Known Member
Some pics from the morning stray feeding. The cat with my hand in it is the angry hobo one I mentioned in a prior post, the black and white one was in super rough shape at the beginning of the year but seems pretty fit and happy now.
Southbranch
Well-Known Member
My cat went out at 5:30 pm Thursday night and didn't return till 3:30 pm Friday afternoon! He is basically a house cat, we're getting him a go-pro to find out.
OneWheelPeel
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That happens with some of mine, its a little unnerving.
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Of all the cats we’ve either rescued, sheltered, or boarded over the years, this one was the coolest, ever.
Smokie.
He is a Norwegian Forest Cat. Google that if you aren’t familiar with them. When we had our disastrous flood two and a half years ago he was one that Linda and I rescued.
Several days after the flood Linda got a phone call. A lady had to leave her house in a hurry as the flood waters were rapidly rising. She left food for her cat and escaped with nothing else. The flood hit, hard. A few days later she called to see if we could get into her house and rescue her cat, Smokie.
We tossed a cat carrier into the side by side and ventured into the flood zone. The devastation was extensive and heart breaking. We arrive at her house and enter. Smokie is upstairs, frightened, hungry, but fine. We get him in the cat carrier and he is not amused. Not amused at all.
We bring him to my shop, which is doubling as a cat hotel for rescues. Smokie immediately disappears into the dark recesses of my WannaBee. I leave food and water and retreat. I ultimately had him for several weeks. He was more feral than tame, and super intelligent, super alpha. He made it immediately clear that we were not friends, never were friends, and are never going to be friends. He knew that he was a prisoner in my shop.
Determined to win him over I would bring him food and water, then retreat to my desk to observe him. He would warily emerge and eat, occasionally looking up to growl at me. Smokie was a big cat and you could tell he was tough. In my sixty four years he was the only cat that I was afraid of. So this went on for about a week. He would eat, but always watch me, and growl this deep, menacing, wild growl. Just to keep me in line. One night I was sitting and watching him while he ate. He stopped growling, and munched his food thoughtfully, looking at me. He slowly and leisurely walks towards me, and I think “Hey, I’m finally getting somewhere”. He casually walks across the shop, and when get gets to me he wacks me hard on the knee. Then he casually walks back and continues eating and growling at me.
After a few weeks it got to the point where I could pet him for a bit, but only if he initiated it, and only for a little while.
Towards the end of his stay I had fed him, and was on my way out of the shop. As I passed by he turned, wacked me hard on the back of the leg, and resumed eating.
When his owner picked him up she filled me in on him a bit. He was an old cat, and the only person he ever bonded with was her now deceased husband. How he was with me was how he was. He would live mostly outdoors, coming home when he felt like it. He could leap and swat birds out of the air. He was truly a fascinating cat, and I miss him.
In the photos I am taking a chance being that close to him. In the one picture you can see by his expression that he is deciding if it is worth the effort to smack me or not.
Smokie.
He is a Norwegian Forest Cat. Google that if you aren’t familiar with them. When we had our disastrous flood two and a half years ago he was one that Linda and I rescued.
Several days after the flood Linda got a phone call. A lady had to leave her house in a hurry as the flood waters were rapidly rising. She left food for her cat and escaped with nothing else. The flood hit, hard. A few days later she called to see if we could get into her house and rescue her cat, Smokie.
We tossed a cat carrier into the side by side and ventured into the flood zone. The devastation was extensive and heart breaking. We arrive at her house and enter. Smokie is upstairs, frightened, hungry, but fine. We get him in the cat carrier and he is not amused. Not amused at all.
We bring him to my shop, which is doubling as a cat hotel for rescues. Smokie immediately disappears into the dark recesses of my WannaBee. I leave food and water and retreat. I ultimately had him for several weeks. He was more feral than tame, and super intelligent, super alpha. He made it immediately clear that we were not friends, never were friends, and are never going to be friends. He knew that he was a prisoner in my shop.
Determined to win him over I would bring him food and water, then retreat to my desk to observe him. He would warily emerge and eat, occasionally looking up to growl at me. Smokie was a big cat and you could tell he was tough. In my sixty four years he was the only cat that I was afraid of. So this went on for about a week. He would eat, but always watch me, and growl this deep, menacing, wild growl. Just to keep me in line. One night I was sitting and watching him while he ate. He stopped growling, and munched his food thoughtfully, looking at me. He slowly and leisurely walks towards me, and I think “Hey, I’m finally getting somewhere”. He casually walks across the shop, and when get gets to me he wacks me hard on the knee. Then he casually walks back and continues eating and growling at me.
After a few weeks it got to the point where I could pet him for a bit, but only if he initiated it, and only for a little while.
Towards the end of his stay I had fed him, and was on my way out of the shop. As I passed by he turned, wacked me hard on the back of the leg, and resumed eating.
When his owner picked him up she filled me in on him a bit. He was an old cat, and the only person he ever bonded with was her now deceased husband. How he was with me was how he was. He would live mostly outdoors, coming home when he felt like it. He could leap and swat birds out of the air. He was truly a fascinating cat, and I miss him.
In the photos I am taking a chance being that close to him. In the one picture you can see by his expression that he is deciding if it is worth the effort to smack me or not.
The traps were set for coyotes apparently.
1KoolBee
Well-Known Member
We’ve always had dogs and 1-2 cats. Dogs are the epitome of unconditional love. Cats are a mixed bag. They usually pick one person to become infatuated with, then they’re pretty loyal but somewhat manipulative. If you introduce them to your dog young enough, they’ll form a bond there too.
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We have a place in mazatlan, Mexico. It’s not as luxurious as that sounds, it’s just a nice, quiet little place where we escape from the northern cold and darkness for a few times per year.
We have brought back two feral rescues from here; the previous Chika for Linda and I, Canelito for our daughter.
Our little community is full of mostly spoiled, retired white folks from the U.S. and Canada. Nearly all have those have horrible little yappy dogs that I call “Nine Iron Dogs”. Those are the inbred, yappy, useless little pieces of fur that I could use a nine iron on. Anyway…
All of the nine iron dog people hate the feral cats that live here. I, on the other hand love the feral cats that are here. They have a very difficult existence and I respect their survival abilities. Chika had survived by living in the thatched roof of our place after surviving a kidnapping/ransom attack. True story. Canelito and his mom were caught in a flash flood and thoroughly thrashed against the rocks. Anyway…
There is a small colony of ferals that live here in the park. Myself, the security guys, and a few others sort of watch over them. The nine iron dog people literally foam at the mouth in rage over this, but there is not much they can do. One of the people on the side of the cats is a tough biker type of chick, and you do not f*ck with the security guys.
For a while the colony of cats lived in my yard. I would sit out, have a beer, and watch them. But I have a neighbour with a dog that hates cats so they have moved for their safety. They now live at the security gate with the guards.
So when I was here in the spring I would bring them food at the front gate. There was even a huge vulture, Bob, that would glide in to eat with the cats. When we came back this week, seven months later, the cats immediately recognized me and followed me home. One of them, a little tortoise shell, screamed at me the whole time. As I walked to our place she followed about ten feet behind, hollering at me at the top of her voice, as if to say “where in the heck have you been?” She then sat on the deck and screamed at me for about ten minutes. Realizing that I wasn’t about to immediately feed her she wandered away, only to return every half hour or so to holler at me.
She’s a beautiful cat; tortoise shell with piercing blue/grey eyes. If I could bring her home I would but we already have four cats and a big, goofy dog named Cora.
Those of you that are aware of our cat rescue during the fire and flood evacuations may be aware that my shop at home is called The Cat Ranch. Our motto is “We can’t save them all but we save what we can.”
We have brought back two feral rescues from here; the previous Chika for Linda and I, Canelito for our daughter.
Our little community is full of mostly spoiled, retired white folks from the U.S. and Canada. Nearly all have those have horrible little yappy dogs that I call “Nine Iron Dogs”. Those are the inbred, yappy, useless little pieces of fur that I could use a nine iron on. Anyway…
All of the nine iron dog people hate the feral cats that live here. I, on the other hand love the feral cats that are here. They have a very difficult existence and I respect their survival abilities. Chika had survived by living in the thatched roof of our place after surviving a kidnapping/ransom attack. True story. Canelito and his mom were caught in a flash flood and thoroughly thrashed against the rocks. Anyway…
There is a small colony of ferals that live here in the park. Myself, the security guys, and a few others sort of watch over them. The nine iron dog people literally foam at the mouth in rage over this, but there is not much they can do. One of the people on the side of the cats is a tough biker type of chick, and you do not f*ck with the security guys.
For a while the colony of cats lived in my yard. I would sit out, have a beer, and watch them. But I have a neighbour with a dog that hates cats so they have moved for their safety. They now live at the security gate with the guards.
So when I was here in the spring I would bring them food at the front gate. There was even a huge vulture, Bob, that would glide in to eat with the cats. When we came back this week, seven months later, the cats immediately recognized me and followed me home. One of them, a little tortoise shell, screamed at me the whole time. As I walked to our place she followed about ten feet behind, hollering at me at the top of her voice, as if to say “where in the heck have you been?” She then sat on the deck and screamed at me for about ten minutes. Realizing that I wasn’t about to immediately feed her she wandered away, only to return every half hour or so to holler at me.
She’s a beautiful cat; tortoise shell with piercing blue/grey eyes. If I could bring her home I would but we already have four cats and a big, goofy dog named Cora.
Those of you that are aware of our cat rescue during the fire and flood evacuations may be aware that my shop at home is called The Cat Ranch. Our motto is “We can’t save them all but we save what we can.”
Big cat toy!!
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