Mama Cat's identity theft

This column has been running in this paper for nearly seven years now and, to date, one column touched off more sparks and made me the recipient of more hate mail (e-mails) than any other: my life with cats.

In one column, I described the demise of a kitten and my futile attempt to save it. According to several readers, my reaction was pitiful and my attempt was worthless. And I vowed never to write about cats again -- until the other day when cats again took over my day.

The cats -- all six of them -- walk a fine line between pets and farm animals. Our cats are like a garden: Due to outside forces such as coyotes and semi-tractor trailers, we have had a hard time "establishing" a herd of cats, but they are finally starting to take hold and are flourishing. Their original purpose was to rid the area around the house and barns of mice, rats, rodents, any other small animal I wouldn't want wandering into my bed at night.

For the most part, they did their job. I would see them toying with a mouse, tossing around a rat and on rare occasions, dragging a pigeon back to their straw bed in the barn. They also like to venture up to the house for spare scraps of food and a possible trip inside to warm up -- inside until the kittens have had enough of the two-year-old. We are constantly working with the toddler on the proper way to hold a cat, for example "Do not put the kitty in the choke hold," but have not broken him of using kittens as pillows.

Before I get a call from the animal-abuse hot line, I should note that the kittens quickly free themselves from his grip and dash for the door but usually return to their perch outside the door before the end of the day, so little harm is done. Because the cats come and go from the house, I was not prepared for a new cat to enter the picture.

Mama Cat (yes, that is what we call her because she is so prolific)  was expecting another litter of kittens any day. Upon returning home, Mother Cat darted up the porch and into the house as soon as I opened the door. That's odd, I thought, Mama Cat usually doesn't dart in but rather cautiously enters as she scans the room for small children. At this point, Mama Cat rubbed against my legs, mewing for food and water.

Again, that's odd; Mama Cat eats in the barn and only comes inside to warm up and take a break from her kittens -- much like most mothers.

As each child rose for the day, I showed them Mama Cat and noted that she was no longer pregnant. (With five siblings, the kids have a pretty good grasp on the term pregnancy.) The first child's response: "That's not Mama Cat." My authoritative reply: "Yes, it is. See, she's gray. She was sitting outside. She's a cat. It's Mama Cat." The next child wandered into the kitchen: "That's not Mama Cat." Once again: "Yes, it is."

When the 3-year-old questioned the authenticity of the cat, I started to doubt myself. If she had really just delivered kittens, she would have been out with them, wouldn't she? After she darted under the bed to escape another bear hug from the two-year-old, I forgot about Mama Cat until later that morning. The 2-year-old had found Mama Cat under the bed and was chasing her through the kitchen, past the glass kitchen doors -- where Mama Cat sat outside on the stoop, glaring at us. If Mama Cat (in all her pregnant glory) is outside, then who was that inside?

A random, friendly cat had wandered up and managed to work its way into our house. A few weeks have passed now. Mama Cat had her kittens. The other cats have returned to their stoop outside the kitchen doors. And the random cat? It still darts inside as soon as the door opens, but also tolerates the 2-year-old better than any cat I've ever seen.

-- Ronda Graff realizes the new cat is probably someone's pet and is more than willing to return the feline. If anyone is missing a gray, female cat, you can have it back, but you'll have to bargain with the 2-year-old.