My mission to trap Mama has gone on for weeks. On multiple occasions, I've set up a live trap to catch her — usually at the most opportune time for me and, if possible, during regular vet clinic hours. My efforts to spay this cat have now taken on a new urgency ... a few weeks ago, I got a good look at Mama in the barn and thought she looked ... bigger.
Shit, I thought ... Is Mama pregnant again?
Soon afterward, Mama curtailed her regular appearances in my yard, and, like an overprotective father, I began yearning to know where she was — and when. If I was able to trap Mama, I didn't want her stuck in the cage for hours while I wasn't home.
My friend Steve, an IT expert, tried in vain to help me set up a web-cam in the barn so that I could monitor things from a distance without spooking Mama or the kitties.
But Mama simply refuses to enter any trap I set up, no matter how tempting the treats I set inside. She's seen both of her kittens trapped (twice apiece; they apparently forgot what happened the first time they took the bait), and I'm beginning to think this bitch is on to me.
Mama will nibble on sardines right out of my hand, but she just won't set foot in the trap — not even if I camouflage the damned thing.
At this point, I'm resigned to her having another litter.