First to steal my heart.

Mamma had 3 kittens in the Spring of 2019.  The little gray one died.  The black one, whom I called Ink (Incubo means "nightmare" in Italian) was fierce in her protection of her food.  Those little murder mitts would flash and slash in an instant.  

The third kitten, another gray tabby stripe, was extra fluffy.  So, I called him "Scruffy," as he seemed ever so slightly unkempt.  He was friendly and learned his name quickly.  Very soon, he was schmoozing my ankles and I could pet him at will. 

 

Scruff had goopy eyes, sometimes so bad that one or the other eye would be glued shut with yellow or greenish gunk.  The vet gave me the name of an antibiotic eye drop.  The first time I tried to treat him, I scooped Scruff up and wrapped him quickly in a towel.  He was not happy and squirmed to get free.  However, at about 4 months of age, I could handle it.  First I wiped the eyes, then administered the drops and wiped again.  All this with one hand!! When I released him, he ran like lightning out the cortile door. I thought he would never forgive me.

Lo and behold, the next day, as I went out with food and looked for him, he approached me with his BIG GREEN eyes wide open!  Well, look at you!  As if he understood what had happened, he thereafter allowed me to put the drops in his eyes with no problem whatsoever.  All I had to do was lift his little head and squirt and he would happily go back to eating.

My heart ached for this cat.  I worried about him constantly, especially if I could not find him (which was rare, he usually stayed close by.)  However, my husband remained adamant about never having a cat again.  

When we embarked on our "neutering" frenzy in January, 2020...Scruffy was high on the list.  Titi was settled in her new home life.  One evening, a local predatory male cat, a large orange cat with a nasty disposition, came around to start trouble.  Even with doors and windows shut for the winter cold, the sounds of cats screeching outside was disturbing and I worried that Scruff, getting older now, would wind up getting into a horrible fight with the "monster" cat.

Upon hearing one more blood curdling screech, my husband went outside and marched right back in with Scuff in tow.  !!!!!!!  A cage was hurriedly prepared and in he went.  How would he react?  Would he wail for freedom?  Try to escape?  Keep us up all night demanding to be let out again?

No, not at all.  He acted like he was completely exhausted.  He ate and drank and slept and slept and slept.  He never made a sound.  

He, too, had a terrible case of worms, so off I went to the farmacia for more medicine.

His appointment with the doctor went well.  I was able to get him into a carrier and once home, he stumbled back into his cage.  He didn't even WANT to come out.  One time I tried to coax him out to explore the house a little a bit.  He closed the door to his cage himself!!!  "Nope, no thanks.  I'm good.  Sleepy, though.  See ya later."  

Eventually, after watching Missy Titi come and go, he ventured out of his cage and discovered his new world.  He didn't seem to mind having chairs and beds and other soft places to rest.  He clearly delighted in getting fed three times a day and having clean, fresh water. 

Over time, he has become calmer and more affectionate.  He was graduated to a large, three shelf cage with a hammock.  As things got....more complicated, he and Titi shared the cage.  At this point, they both only eat in the cage and use the "restroom."  Otherwise, they have free reign all day and night.

Scruff, my beautiful, fluffy boy.  He is a very sweet cat and never would have been able to make it outside, but I will tell you more about that later.

Numero Uno

 In January, 2020 we embarked on an effort to spay and neuter as many cats as we could.  While trying to figure out who to start with, a new little face appeared among the crowd.

She was about 8-9 months old, had no problems with the other street cats and marched right into our enclosed courtyard one day when I opened the door for suppertime.  A pretty little tortoise shell kitty.  

Mamma Nera had had her litter about 8-9 months before and one of the kittens of that litter had been a tortie.  But we lost sight of that kitten and presumed that she had died.  Could someone have taken her in and then changed their minds?  It was hard to say, but her ease with all the street cats was odd, to say the least.  She had no fear of my dog, Harry, either.

She immediately began schmoozing ankles and wanting to have pets.  

Another "expedient" name was assigned, we called her T.S. because...Tortoise Shell.  I also liked that it reminded me of T.S. Elliot, the author.  T.S. got shortened to Tee often enough. 

I don't know why, but this girl broke the ice in my husband's heart.  Having had a houseful of ancient cats some years back, he was adamant about never, ever...ever, ever, ever....having another.  So, when he started talking about getting a cage ready for her and a pan, and  food bowl, I was nothing short of flabbergasted.

And she wanted in very badly.  

She was scooped up in arms and carried to the back room where we used Harry's large crate (that was used to transport him by airplane from the US to Italy) as her "shelter."  She seemed quite pleased with the arrangement.

Because of her age, I was getting concerned about her "going into heat" so an appointment with the vet was made as quickly as possible. 

Tee had one BIG problem, though.  Terrible, terrible liquid diarrhea.  The house would become consumed by such a dreadful smell.  Sometimes it happened in the wee small hours.  One of us would have to get up and change it immediately because the odor was so horrendous. Maybe that was why she was chucked back into the streets.

On our way to the vet for her appointment, we passed a store with friendly owners who love both cats and dogs.  The wife wanted to see who was in the carrier, and what was her name?  I said "Tee" and she said, "Oh, Titi!!"  Titi has stuck to this day, although she has many other names, as do they all. 

Besides getting spayed, I got her medicine for worms, the likely cause of the diarrhea.  It took two doses, two weeks apart, but things got slowly more tolerable.  She recovered from her surgery like a little champ, although she did NOT like having her tummy sprayed with cold antibiotic. And gradually, with more normal bowels, she was given more freedom within the house.

She became quite fond of stealing Harry's beds whenever he wasn't in one.

Besides the medicine for worms, I also found a type of food to "promote digestive health."  Between the two, within a couple of months, Missy Tee had normal poop and started growing and becoming the little Queen of the household. 

She explored every nook, every window, every chair....however, she continued to prefer to be in the safety of her kennel at night.  But her solitary cat days didn't last for long.

Introduction

I am an American living in Italy.  I arrived just over two years ago.  My beloved dog arrived the very  next day.  

He was the subject of two children's books I wrote.  He had a blog and a Facebook page.  The blog has been suspended because Harry Spotter has terminal disease.  I have not yet decided what to do about his FB page.

Harry is a "cat friendly" dog.  The truth is, he is just an all around, sweet, friendly soul.  I have never heard him growl in his entire life. 

Soon after arriving, it was noticed that there are many...too many...street cats.  In this smallish hill town, there is no program for spaying and neutering, or for adoption.  An idea sprang up in my mind to try and establish a program, but in the meantime, I was determined to help as many cats as possible.

Luckily, our neighbors across the street are animal lovers.  They even have a house cat of their own, a pretty calico.  My friend offered to help by driving us to and from the veterinarian, since it is a bit of a walk.

By my first Spring here, one cat had had three little kittens.  My heart ached.  Other than puppies, what is possibly cuter than tiny kittens? Two were gray tabbies, like Mamma, and one was all black.  

Since I had begun feeding the ferals outside, we began to assign them names, of sorts, just to be able to differentiate who the heck we were talking about.  So, there was, obviously, Mamma.  One kitten had had a terrible injury to one eye.  I could not tell if it was life threatening, and they would not let me near....so, that kitten became "Pirate," the black one became "Incubo" ("Nightmare" in Italian) because she was so fierce in claiming her food, and the third, because of his extra fluffy fur and chowder face, became "Scruff."

With time, food and a bit of a routine, they came to trust me and let me pet them.  One day, I was able to scoop Pirate up and we (my husband and I) walked to the vet.  The prognosis was not good.  This little kitten was not going to make it.  In fact, she was already not interested in eating so much.  She spent the evening on the mat in our enclosed courtyard, looking out at the piazzetta as the sun slowly set.  After that, I never saw her again.

Ink and Scruff and Mamma came each day.  I obtained antibiotic drops for Scruffy's goopy eyes.  Scooped him up and wrapped a towel around him and treated his eyes.  After that, he let me do it even while he was busy eating!!

Throughout that first summer cats came every late afternoon.  The little family was consistent, but others showed up and then sometimes didn't.  At times, I had 8 cats to feed.  There was "Sib"...who I think was from Mamma's previous litter, and another full grown black cat, and a little gray one with a strange face ("Funky") and a grown male, all gray.  "Mr. Gray"...yes, sorry, not very original, just expedient.  And there was an unwelcome interloper, the "Orange Creep"...who would show up and start fights and terrorize all the others.  

In July, the full grown black cat had a litter of three.  So, she was now "Mamma Nera"...and the kittens were a tortoise shell, a gray kitten and one black and white.  Mamma N, when they were ready, brought her kittens to the restaurant each evening, too. This was becoming overwhelming. 

Somewhere during this time we bought a trap and a cage and tried to plan on how to arrange the trapping, transport and recuperation of these cats.  In the meantime, gaining trust was the goal. 

We lost track of the tortoise kitten, the gray one had four white paws, so "Calzini" ("Socks") was christened, and the black and white one wailed, literally echoing through the courtyard, when I showed up with a tray of food.  He also tried to climb up my legs and was very aggressive.  I called him "Demon."  

Fall turned into winter, 2019 came to a close and in January, 2020, we went on a neutering frenzy.  By this time, my husband, who had been staunchly against bringing a cat inside, decided we had room for THREE!  Scruffy, who came when I called him, schmoozed my ankles, purred and let me pet him, had already won my heart.  I could not wait to bring him inside!

But, there was an unexpected surprise.  A beautiful tortoise shell, not full grown, showed up out of nowhere.  She walked right into the courtyard, and ingratiated herself with the other cats.  And, she loved Harry. She was not afraid of us, or the dog...and she was affectionate.  This was very strange.  Was this the  kitten we had lost track of?  Perhaps someone had taken her in and then changed their minds? She was NOT acting like your typical feral cat.  We called her "T.S." for obvious reasons.  That got shortened to "Tee."  I wanted to save Scruff, but this cat was not accustomed to being in the street and she wanted in badly.  

And then came a pandemic.

So, this is where I will end the introduction and begin to introduce "the clowns" one by one.  It all started with Tee.