Commentary by Christy Solo
We’ll title this week’s Rogue, “Cri learns about the Universal Cat Distribution System.”
The system has been around since we were domesticated by cats (you didn’t think it was the other way around, did you?) give or take 9,500 years ago. The phrase “cat distribution system” came into the lexicon in 2022 when dropped by TikToker @hermes.the.cynic.
The theory (though I’d argue it’s fact) is: the universe sends cats or kittens to people who deserve them. You don’t adopt the cat; the cat adopts you.
The sub-clause (sub-claws?) is: This happens regardless of what other plans you might have had.
I learned about the Universal Cat Distribution System from replies to my social media post about the following – read on!
You may recall my dog Kiff had to have emergency surgery Aug. 14. By Sunday Aug. 16 she was healing well, and I was doing some mental gymnastics planning how I would rebuild my savings account in time for the next pet emergency.
The Universal Cat Distribution System has a sense of humor.
Around 5:30 p.m. Aug. 16, I took the dogs downstairs for their post-dinner outing. Having had two of my dogs run out the back door and into the business end of a skunk, I always go out ahead of the dogs to look for – and scare off – skunks, raccoons, birds…whatever. I do this to avoid future skunkings or “meet and greets with raccoons which will run up large vet bills.”
That evening what I saw was a very, very teeny black, feral kitten by the base of my bird feeders trying to eat birdseed.
This is not the first feral kitten or cat I’ve come upon in my yard, but all previous felines took off hell bent the nanosecond I appeared. This kitten…did not.
They scurried a couple of feet further from me, then stopped, semi-hidden behind the lattice fence.
I stood frozen on the top step. I had to scare the kitten off because I had to let the dogs out. But I was used to ferals sprinting away at light speed, I wasn’t used to intentionally scaring them. That felt mean.
Still, they were feral, so surely if I stepped off the step that would do it and they’d flee.
Nope.
Surely if I walked toward the kitten, they would flee.
Nope.
Surely if I got very close to the kitten…
Nope.
Okay, but if I crouch down, then I’ll be a Big Threatening Predator and…
Nope.
Cautiously the kitten approached. “But…FERAL!” my brain was yelling at me, “They will run!” I reached out a hand slowly, they didn’t run. A tiny pet. They didn’t run. Almost against my will (the Cat Distribution System is a force y’all) I picked up the kitten fully expecting hissing, spitting and scratching. Nope.
The kitten was just skin on bone, but other than that looked impossibly healthier than any other feral kitten I’d ever seen. Eyes and ears clean, no wounds, nothing.
I’ll note here that (as you may recall) I have a senior cat already and there isn’t a chance in heck I’d touch most of the feral cats/kittens I see for fear of transferring some illness or other to my grown cat.
Meanwhile the dogs were just the other side of the back door reminding me it was potty time.
I stood, kitten in hand and pondered next steps, then found myself saying aloud, “Welp. I guess I have a kitten now.” What choice did I have? I’d picked them up. They’d chosen me. Setting them back down and scaring them off into the brush where they had little chance of even surviving another night…I mean, I’d never sleep again.
How to get the kitten inside past the dogs though? Then what after that? I shrugged, held the kitten up over my head with one hand as high as I could, opened the door and told the dogs to go out.
The kitten still did not go into “hiss, scratch, bite” mode and the dogs – oblivious to it all – ran out the door.
I had a cat carrier right there in the laundry room, so tucked kitten in, then put them in the downstairs bathroom while I finished up with the dogs.
With the dogs back in and secured upstairs, I grabbed a small dish and put half of a jar of baby food in it (I’m always stocked with “sick pet” foods such as baby food, pumpkin, rice, chicken broth, etc.) and ran it down to the kitten. I quickly put it in the crate and closed the door.
I knew I had to set up a quarantine space for kitten – no obvious signs of illness doesn’t mean there is no actual illness – so I quickly cleaned up the guest bedroom (stripped the nice bedding, took the quilt off the chair – basic kitten-proofing). Grabbed the spare litterbox and a couple soft blankets and called it good.
Then I locked the dogs and older cat in my bedroom, opting not to try to sneak a kitten by them twice.
When I got back downstairs to the crate, the small bowl was 100% empty and licked clean for good measure. That dang feral kitty was curled up purring loudly.
What kind of feral kitten was this? Social media is chock full of frantic “We’re trying to trap these feral kittens” posts, how had this bitty bag of bones trapped me?
Also, now I’d have at least one vet visit for an evaluation, then maybe more for shots and a spay/neuter and…what had I done?
I dutifully took kitten upstairs to the guest bedroom and opened the crate.
The little kitten, just laid down next to me on the floor and industriously began “making biscuits” on the plush blanket and set to loudly purring and purring and purring.
I was done for.
Still, there were health questions. So “little kitten” did not get a name. My pragmatic half – the half raised by a Mum who was raised on a farm knew “You don’t name things that might die, or that you’re going to eat.” I’d call the vet in the morning, and we’d go from there.
Come back next week for “Cri learns about the Universal Cat Distribution System” Pt. II
