In Florida we lived in a town known for it's retirees (isn't that most of Florida?) and Snow Birds. When we moved in there was a feral colony on our street. We were told that Snow Birds would come in the spring, take in a pet, and then dump the pet off when they left. And that cycle never failed. We lived in a subdivision behind a shopping plaza, so lots of roads. It was terrible to watch socialized pets try to become part of the ferals. As a community we all helped TNR, and one of the men down the street fed them, and we donated good to the cause.
My spouse worked in insurance and learned that if you feed them, they are your responsibility, and your potential liability. So I could never feed them.
If new ones showed up, and we saw them before they were attacked by the colony (territory issues), we would bring them inside get them vetted and try to adopt them out. We got a couple adopted out, but most we were stuck with, but we assumed that from the moment we brought them inside. So most of ours weren't true ferals, just abandoned destined to become ferals.
The last 2 we took in before we moved though... One sweet as pie, the other full of piss and vinegar.
We thought cats were mating in the shopping plaza parking lot as the screaming sounded terrible at about 1am. We were outside helping a friend fix her headlight before she drove home. I couldn't take it any more. I was going to go yell at them and break them up, even if it was just for a moment. I brought our dog, Bart. He loves kitties. In fact, he tends to "find" the kitties for us outside that we would have never seen. He sees a kitty and he tries his best to hold still, but his excitement is shown in his eyes and his tail. He tries so hard to control himself to not scare them of, but the tail still wags because he can't help himself totally. He lets them approach him and then he sniffs their ears and butt and lets then headbutt him. It was his favorite part about walks around the block. He loves kitties as much as I do, maybe more, if that's possible. So Bart and I had to the parking lot. Bart spots the little furball in the dark before I child see him. He's howling his little head off. It wasn't cats mating at all. So much noise from such a little thing! As we approach it seems he's talking to another cat down the street. Bart gets to the kitten first, and approaches slowly. They sniff noses and then the kitten realizes Bart is a dog. He jumps back and poofs hissing and spitting just like halloween cat picture. Bart has never gotten this reaction before so he just stood there, not sure how to proceed. As I finally got close the kitten ran away into a crack in the wall of the building. We went over to the crack as the kitten was screaming again for it's friend. We called "here kitty kitty" until the little scaredy cat came back out and sniffed me. His eyes were matted and infected, his belly swollen with worms, and so tiny he fit in one hand. He needed help, so I brought him home. He couldn't come in because he'd infect my group, so I put him in the back yard.
I grabbed some food and went to find his friend otherwise there was going to be screaming in my backyard all night, I feared. I found the other guy pretty easy. He was hanging out under some parked trucks. Again I called, "here kitty kitty" but this one was double the size of the on now in our yard, big enough to know he didn't want to be caught. So I tossed food his way until he would come from under the truck enough. The spouse arrived to help and we pulled a toss and grab and caught the kitty who didn't want to be caught. For my troubles, I got a crazy amount of scratches and one terrible finger bite. I wasn't terribly worried about rabies, but cat bites tend to get infected, but when you rescue enough cats you know the drill. Lol.
So both cats were in the back yard for the night with water and food. We made our human plans that our inside was full, and we would get these guys to the vet so there be healthy. Get 'em fixed and try to find them homes, but if not they could become part of the ferals.
Oh, what's that saying... The best laid plans of mice and men"...
The next day it rained... It rains every day in Florida, so no big deal. This day, of course had so much rain come down it created a flash flood in our back yard.
The area between our house and the fence is filled with callalillys, and now with a foot of water standing. The larger cat was on top of a milk crate against the fence. Poor thing still looked drowned. I gave him to the spouse, as we were now moving them into the garage. I was searching for the little one, calling out, "kitty" but he stopped responding. I was panicking, because snakes are common to use callalillies as refuge, and now I had to put my hands in water to find this cat. Luckily, there was an occasional noise that helped direct me. I found him and he was crawling up a callalilly stem, and then his weight slid him back down under the water. His climb up was barely enough time to catch a breath, and the poor baby was almost out of energy to keep that up. I snatched him up before he fell down again and he coughed and spat up water. We got to the garage with his brother, and we decided to give them a flea bath using dawn (b/c the little one was so little we didn't want to use actual flea stuff) and they were already wet.
The next day we could only catch the little one, so we took him to the vet and the vet knowing us, gave us enough meds to treat both. They stayed in the garage until almost the end of their meds. (It had gotten too hot to leave them in there so they came in just before the antibiotics were up.) Bart was thrilled to have new kittys to play with, and though we tried, they never got adopted out. They are 4 now, and weirdly the bookends to our group. The big one is the largest cat in the house. Bandit is tall and long not wide. The little one, Crookshanks, is the smallest of the group. He's both stumpy and wide. The vet said he's not fat, his shape is just round - like humans come in different shapes so do cats, lol. He often reminds me of a pittbull: wide head and chest, stocky body on short legs. He often looks mean or evil. His amber eyes match his coat, but he's just as sweet as they come. He also loves belly rubs.
The spouse and I help when and where we can, and like with these two, even when we really shouldn't. While our pockets are empty, our hearts and house are full.
We do love the TNR programs, and lend our support (sometimes that's a vote, or attending meetings, or physically helping catch cats, and sometimes that's financial, though rarely these days).
I know you have a giant heart too Dickson. Perhaps put a call in to your amazing vet that's good to you and see what their advice is before you go through the effort of trying to trap them. Maybe the vet even has traps like they use for TNR so you don't have to handle them yourself.
I'm always a stupid sucker for a sick animal that I know just needs a little but of help. Good luck with your dilemma. But I've always found the ferals I've rescued do okay when brought inside. I've got some that don't care to be touched or picked up, or even be with/around The other cats, but they still tend to find ways to show their happiness and love. It is a process, and happens slowly. Patience and love makes the world go round...
I'd take in every unwanted or homeless cat, if I could!
.
.
and
