Because these real-life events unfold faster than I can write them down, I'm afraid I can't post here in real time. Blogger won't let me eliminate its time stamps, so I kinda have to post-date ...
The following took place at 2 a.m. Monday:
I'm eating a bowl of cereal, watching Mama on the Bumbly Barn-Cam.
Out in the barn she lies in her bed, perhaps on the verge of birthing another litter. She looks ready to burst. If she continues to elude my traps, I just hope she has her kittens in the barn. There she has a heated bed, heated water dish, bales of hay, and other amenities not typically afforded to feral cats.
But she wanders around a lot, and she hides out behind my neighbor's shed, as well.
Outside it's 33 degrees with freezing drizzle.
I feel like we're both grappling with our decisions:
Me to trap her and have her pregnancy terminated (a kitty abortion, if you will), and her whether to take the bait. She looks at the food, sniffs at the food, yet continues to resist it.
Meanwhile, I had to leave Billy and Buddy alone last night, and just like the squirrel two weeks ago, those little monsters ransacked my house. Now I've got them cordoned off in their own room, complete with all the amenities. I'll keep them there till I catch Mama.
If I catch Mama.
Meanwhile, they could be getting a whole lotta new siblings any day now.
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