Being Responsible

This week I had to perform a farm chore that for the most part adds little if nothing to my bottom line, however, it’s the right thing to do. Some years I get away without having to pay out, but this year it was an added expense in triplicate. The logistics took nearly a full day, requiring a few hours of driving, too.  I call it the Kitten Tax.

The appointment had been on the county animal shelter’s books for a few months as I snagged the coveted spots for their Trap, Neuter, Release clinic when it became evident that no one was interested in re-homing the three stooges that had been dumped in the farm’s driveway last summer. There’s a special place in hell for people who abandon unwanted kittens on the doorstep of a farm believing their services as adult cats will be useful.

Yes, having a barn cat or three is helpful with the rodent population inside the barn, but outside there’s plenty of other residents who help control vermin, such as owls and snakes. Having too many cats robs them of their dinners and thus, reduces their population. I’d rather have owls than barn cats. Owls don’t eat purchased food.

Until last summer, the feline population had been holding at four, but a mid-summer drop-off at the end of the driveway nearly doubled that number had not one succumbed to the triple-digit temperatures at the time.

At first I thought they were baby skunks as they scooted across the gravel in my headlights when I set out for market one Sunday morning. I would have preferred the skunks. When I took out the trash that evening they were no where in sight. Dodged that bullet, I thought to myself. The last thing I wanted was more barn cats. But two days later a frantic call from my neighbor alerted me to kittens in distress under the forsythia bush near the end of the driveway.

They were dirty, dehydrated, and hungry so coaxing them out of the landscaping with bits of leftover sandwich was easy. In their weakened state, three were easily scooped up. There was no helping the fourth one as Mother Nature’s undertakers had already begun their work.

Back to the house I went where they were all first bathed before settling them in a big pet crate with fresh water, food, and a litterbox in the dining room. No one wants an emaciated kitten with flea bite dermatitis and infected eyes so these guys would be in the infirmary in the meantime.

Last summer was bumper crop year for unwanted kittens. There were pleas for new homes from the local shelters and just about everyone I knew with a farm plastered cute little kitten faces all over social media. Free kittens!

Since cats reach sexual maturity around four months of age, in November I tried to procure a spot in a TNR program, otherwise my vet bill for the spaying of one female would be twice what I’d spend at the clinic for all three, the other two being males. Additionally, I’d also be charged in full for all vaccines, ear mite, and flea treatments.

I completely understand veterinary expenses for a beloved pet, but these were not here by my choice. This was someone else’s ignorance and willful irresponsibility. Why should farmers have to foot the bill? Honestly, I’d much rather be out farming. Instead, I’m rounding up an extra trap (for the TNR program cats must be taken in live traps), driving to the clinic at o’dark thirty first thing Monday morning and then back again in the afternoon to pick up the latest inductees into the Flat Ear Club. For those of you not familiar with feral cat speak, kitties sporting the tip of one ear clipped off have been spayed or neutered. It’s an easy method for identifying ones who don’t need to be handled or transported again.

We’re a month out from Valentine’s Day. It’s not a day of love for humans only. I’m hoping that by being responsible by spaying and neutering the latest batch the Universe will spare me this year from unwanted kittens dumped off at the end of the lane. At the very least, there will be no growling and yowling of lusty felines and the outcome of the call of nature.