Cats and Traps

The Sad Case of Woodward Hollow

I’m a trapper. I trap cats, get them neutered, and return them to wherever I got ‘em. It’s unethical, and generally unlawful to not return a cat to the place where it was trapped. Either the cat is owned by someone, or it’s feral, in which case it falls under the Virginia prohibition on relocating wildlife.

My group has been trapping in Woodward hollow for weeks. When the Woodwards see us coming, they bring as many of their cats inside as they can. Their cats are scrawny, and survive on scraps and dead animal carcasses that Mrs. Woodward dumps on the porch. The cats have to get by on what the dogs leave behind.

When we spay a cat, we keep her overnight to make sure she’s OK, then release her the next morning. I hadn’t done the hollow in a while, but last Friday I took two females back for release. Rather than get too close to these crazy people’s house, I parked in the cul-de-sac, and unloaded my two traps. When the doors were opened, the cats weren’t especially interested in leaving, but eventually they walked out into the street, but went no further. One cat, a pretty light gray lady, turned around to look into the other trap. Spotting a half full food dish, she went back, cleaned it out, then walked back into her original trap.

Having a cat walk back into its trap is very unusual. It’s most common for all released cats to run away immediately. Neither were so inclined. I coaxed them both out and put the traps back in the truck, expecting the cats to head on up their driveway. But they tried to follow me into the truck. The light gray one put her front legs around my right leg and looked up at me.

I talk to cats: “You need to go home now.” She wasn’t impressed. “You can’t come home with me. I have no place for you, and you belong to someone else.” She wouldn’t let go. I freed myself and brought out more cat food from the back seat. Both cats sucked it all down. One ran off, but the gray cat stayed, her front legs again wrapped around my leg.

Freeing myself, I headed for the cab; the gray cat followed. “They treat their cats like trash.” An older lady had stepped into the cul-de-sac. “That cat doesn’t want to go home,” she said. “I see. But they have to.” “They don’t know that.” “I have no other home for them.” The gray cat had wrapped her legs around my leg again; she was trying to climb my leg.

The lady shook her head and led the gray cat away, guiding her up the dirt driveway to her home. A few feet up the driveway the cat looked back at me, but the lady nudged her back in the direction of home.

Later on, I thought, shame on you. Shouldn’t have done it, but too late. Maybe. I told the story to another trapper. She’s hitting that place next week. Just maybe . . . Undoing sins of omission aren’t easy.