Cats on Tuesday: Trapped

The trees have their leaves again; the windows are open all around the apartment. Gretchen is waiting, wondering what has happened to the young black cat with the bright yellow eyes that came to visit her last summer. From the beginning of the last leaf season until the end, when trees were bare once more, black cat came every sunset and talked with Gretchen through the window screen, long into the night.

Soon, by summers end, there were five cats frolicking in the late afternoon sun across the tree-shadowed lawn. A few came by the window and gave a brief greeting to Gretchen, but the black cat was her faithful friend.

We imagined they came from the other apartment buildings around ours. We have a strict rule where we live. No outside cats allowed. All dogs on leash!

Through the long summer months and into the fall we were entertained each morning as we ate our breakfast. It wasn't apparent at first that the cats were strays, until the rainy season set in. The building here has crawlspaces surrounded by a corrugated metal well with a piece of plywood lain over the top. Some of the wood platforms have rotted in places and we suspect that just such a spot had rotted through on this particular well and allowed the cats to take refuge in it, accessing the vast crawlspace under the entire building.

The air had turned colder now, autumn had arrived and the golden yellow leaves had left the branches overhead. At every breakfast we watched the cats, one by one, emerge from the crawl space, sit upon the platform, and bathe. It was a wonderful show. Then one by one, when they were clean, they'd go on about their day. Rounds to make, or homes to return to? By Thanksgiving time it was becoming apparent that they were planning to stay in the crawlspace through the winter. I'd often run across one or two of them on my walks; I'd see them scoot through a broken metal screen under another set of apartments nearby and wondered only briefly if that was their real home, or were they truly strays, abandoned kitties.

When December arrived, the cold rain kept the kitties under the building most of the day. If they had to go out and make their rounds, or mark their territory, they did it swiftly and then were back again, slipping silently under the platform into the dark underworld of the buildings. Gretchen kept her vigil in the windowsill. Black cat still came faithfully by to visit, if only briefly, because of the weather.

On one cold, very wet morning we sat at breakfast, looking out the window expecting to see the cats emerge, however, something looked different about the platform. There seemed to be a new piece of wood over the vent. This worried me. I was sure the kitties were trapped under the building and would get neither food nor water. They would become too cold, and sickness would overtake them. I was worried that no one knew but my husband and I, and Gretchen, of course, that they were trapped under there. During the course of the morning I often glanced in their direction, wanting to see that the cats were out, but my worst fears were realized when I saw a paw reach out from under the platform. They were under there, all right, at least one of them was. I put on my coat and in the pouring rain I sloshed my way through the wet grass and mud to the crawlspace. I could see a new piece of wood screwed onto the old. I tried it and it moved. To my relief the platform was not secured to the building. It lay loosely, but heavily, across the corrugated metal guard. I quickly nudged it away from the building, creating a small opening and hastened back to my warm, dry apartment to watch. Sure enough, five cats emerged and fled in several directions at once.

Another week went by and we observed the cat's comings and goings again. They were fat and seemed healthy so they were getting food somewhere, or they actually had a home of their own and just preferred to hang out with each other in the crawlspace.

We'd had great fun that summer, fall, and early winter, Gretchen, my husband and I. Gretchen whopped her tail against the glass with delight when they came out to play. Sometimes, we thought Gretchen would love to be romping around the lawn with the others. What fun she'd have in the late evening shadows and prowling about at night. But then we came to our senses. The wide world beyond the walls and windows of our apartment is something Gretchen should never know. She is better off to stay right where she is. Dry, warm, regularly fed, healthy, safe, and loved.

Time came to close the windows and turn on the heat. Gretchen watched them play through the thick glass, watched for the black cat to come by and mouth his comments through the closed window. And we wondered and worried what would happen to the cats if others had been watching them as we had.

Five months have passed now. Gretchen still sits faithfully each evening at sundown in the window. Sometimes checking each window ledge, incase she wasn't looking for the black cat from the right windowsill.

I didn't know how to tell Gretchen in her own language. I had to use human words, which I'm sure lost something in translation that black kitty and his friends would not be back. In the last week of December we woke to a startling scene, but not entirely surprised, because we knew in our hearts this was the best thing for the cats. The building maintenance man was pulling a trap out of the crawlspace well. The rain had kept them all under the building, and as each cat was trapped and carried away, the cage was rebated and replaced for the next one.

It was a horrible sight to see the cage pulled from under the building. The first to go, thrashing and clawing at the hands on the cage, was the large orange and white one with the white face and white paws. The next to go was the solid black, Gretchen's friend. Thankfully, Gretchen was napping in her most favorite of favorite spots, my unmade bed, when this scene was playing out, so she did not see her friend being carted off in such a traumatic and humiliating way. The third to go was the smaller gray cat with white paws. He had an injured paw and often walked holding it up, like it was too painful to put his weight on. So I was glad he was going. At least his paw would be treated and healed. Later, the putty colored cat, and then last was the large charcoal and white. It took several hours for the job of removal to be completed. I was glued to the scene, unable to look away. I had to know if all five cats had been captured, that no cat remained to be entombed forever under the building. I cried with each cat's traumatic removal, held my breath in anticipation of the next, then the next, and cried the rest of the day. I kept telling myself, it was a good thing. It was best for the kitties. I felt empty when it was over.

I'd never given them names. They were just Gretchen's friends to us. I'm glad now that I hadn't become too personal with them. They were treated humanly, of course. The maintenance man told me later that he took each one quickly to the animal shelter, one at a time. He'd covered them and cooed to them as they traveled in his car.

The vet found them in good health. They were vaccinated, stripped of their sex, and their ears clipped to identify them as strays. I hope they were given a chance for good homes.

Occasionally, we'll call Gretchen to the window. There is a black and white cat, or a stripped tabby, passing by, walking and marking the fence line. She eagerly leaps onto the windowsill, happily slapping her tail against the glass and uttering her little yik, yik sounds. They pay her no mind. They have a territory to maintain, they are on a mission; they pass on by without even looking towards the window where Gretchen sits.

The crawlspace now sports a new, improved cover.
Now the birds are filling up the lawn outside our dining room window. Soon it will be time for their babies to try their wings. The grass will be filled with dozens of noisy blackbirds chasing after their mothers with open mouths. Gretchen will be delighted and talk her talk to them once again. But I can't help but wonder if there's yet another little cat somewhere that will come and make Gretchen her friend for the summer. Then I hope not. For the sake of the cat.

(the new and improved well cover)