I recently moved into a little bungalow in the middle of an old part of Canoga Park. The block holds three large groves of eucalyptus trees–holdovers from when the property had not been subdivided and had been part of local ranches–and a good amount of overgrown open space, and as such plays host to all sorts of fauna adapted to living on the loose in suburbia: Raccoons. Possum. Rats. Mice. Hawks. Owls. Parrots.
I am allergic to cats. I never cared much for cats. I was a Dog Person.
Then I moved into this house, and realized it came with Yard Cats.
Cats are pretty highly modified from their wild counterparts. Their constitutions are not as hardy as, say, bobcats or ocelots. They survive ok on their own, going feral and clawing their way through a short and hungry life, but they aren’t built for that. They were bred for a gentler kind of life.
Click through for the saga of Meowlers, my little ball-less wonder, and the wonderful service that is FixNation.
* Ok, only karmic profit…and no, not much fun, but a good deed nonetheless.