It's not everyday that you find out that a mother cat has hidden her litter of kittens under your staircase.
After the initial Oohs and Awws, you have to look at the situation from a different perspective. Like One, how the heck did they even get there?! With doors that stay closed most of the time and windows that are never opened, I found it hard to think of an explanation that didn't involve the cat passing through the walls.
Two, what do I do with them now? Well, the choice isn't entirely mine because the whole incident happened at my Grandpa's place. So he decides, who stays and who gets kicked out into the rain. Surprisingly, he let them stay, at least until the next morning. If this happened at my house, like it has happened countless times before, the mother and the kittens would just have become another addition to our ever growing cat family. Simply because I love cats in any form, shape, size or color and can't seem to part with any of them. It's like an addiction.
Before the five minute mark, I'm already in love with the kittens. The mother hadn't shown up yet, but I was sure she would come in a few hours. By then, Grandpa had discovered the entry point. It was the window in the upstairs bathroom. I traced the path. From the backyard, the mother cat would have had to climb the wall to our first floor, across the sloping roof, and into the bathroom through the tiny window. Then she had found her way through the hall room, inside the house (a dangerous route, keep in mind, for a cat), down the stairs and into a neat little hiding place under it. And she made three of these trips carrying a month old kitten by her mouth. And they are not that small. Very. Impressive.
When I found them, the kittens seemed they would be ready to leave the mother's care pretty soon. I assumed they were around six weeks old; maybe more.
Mommy turned up an hour later. Hearing the noise, I ran into the staircase, only to be met by a very defensive mom. Bad move on my part. But I quietly slid down and made myself comfortable on the floor, as far away from her as possible in the tiny room. Patience is the key to gaining the trust of an animal, especially a mother feeding her children. They are about as aggressive as they come. This young lady looked ready to take on a whole mob of humans to protect her precious babies.
I wait there, and she never stops staring. To her, I'm a threat, and she can not rest until I back away. As time passes, she moves from her standing position to a sitting one, and then she lies down completely. Not because of tiredness; her thoughts are pretty clear in her body language: as long as you stay where you are, I can relax.
I inch forward. She grows alert, but doesn't get up. By now, her kittens are no longer hiding. They are out playing, safely behind their mom. I drag myself forward as slowly as I can. She grows tense. Her whiskers are twitching. Her legs are poised to jump up and attack if necessary. Its too dangerous to take another step. But I take one anyway. Another wrong move. She jumps up and puts herself between me and her kittens.
Another 15 minutes pass as she gets used to me at a closer distance, and she returns to laying down. The kittens are all around her, playing around like they own the place. It was time for me to make the next move: try and touch her.
I reach out, and she doesn't take her eyes off my hand. I get a little too close, and she starts to growl; a low, threatening growl that had only one message: Get away from me.
I back away. I try a second time, getting a little closer than the last time before she starts growling.
The third time, I take my hand all the way. She watches my hand even as it is directly above her. Anything could happen. I bring my hand down. She moves her head back as much as she could. Then I touch her.
The first touch marks success. The animal now officially trusts you. Don't break that trust by making any sudden movements.
I rub her head three times and withdraw my hand. Now she is left wanting more. A minute later, I reach out again. She doesn't pull her head back this time. I rub her all the way down to her belly. I love the soft touch of her fur.
Now she's laying down and I can get as closer to her as I want. The kittens no longer see me as a threat. If Mommy is cool with it, so are they.
For female cats, the lower jaws are the weak points. If you scratch that part well enough, she'll have fallen for you. For a male cat, it tends to be the throat region.
Now Mommy trusts me. And nothing compares to that feeling you get when you earn an animal's trust. If I didn't have a cat overpopulation problem at my house, I would have definitely taken her in.
I have to say goodbye to them now, because they wont be here when I come tomorrow. I don't know if she'll remember me if I see her again. Even if she does, she might not let me touch her again. The kittens are the cutest little things ever. They definitely wont remember me.
A single mother is one of the most extraordinary beings on the planet. Nobody can do the work she does with the same love and dedication. There is a lot to admire in the cat that took refuge under our stairs. I've fallen for them way too quickly. And I'm really going to miss them.
