a Porch too Far.

This is Porch Cat. She is an orange and white tabby that adopted Seth and I six months ago. The first time I saw her she was asleep in the dirt filled planters on our front porch. We called her Porch Cat and the name stuck. She was endearing, her tail would vibrate when she got excited, she kept the mice away, and she was cute. Sitting on the back porch watching Porch Cat hunt bugs was a good way to spend a lazy afternoon.

But I’d compare Porch Cat to a vampire. Not only because of her ravenous thirst for blood but because once you invite a vampire into your home they will come inside whenever they feel like it. Cats are masters of manipulation and, one cold December morn, I invited Porch Cat into the basement.

Porch Cat started peeing on the floor within the hour. I got her a litter box to pee in but it didn’t work. It was time for her to go back outside. But Porch Cat wouldn’t stay outside; she wanted to live inside the house. Everyday was a battle to keep her from running between my legs and into the house. One day she sat by our back door and oozed puss from an open wound. I couldn’t deny her treatment, I cleaned her up with hydrogen peroxide, saline, and antibacterial gel. I gave her some kibble and she ran away. The wound didn’t affect her ability to eat or want food; I assumed she would be ok. She was ok except for the bald patch she developed on her cheek. Porch Cat left us alone for awhile and lived in the chicken coop.

One night, about two weeks ago, there was a loud smash, flapping, and fucking cat noises coming from our living room. Porch Cat had broken into the house and was trying to murder both of the pet birds. She knocked over the finch’s cage and the finch went flying through the dark room, crashing into everything. Seth turned on the light and saw my finch on the floor, tired from his spastic flight, and he saw Porch Cat sticking her paw into the cockatiel’s cage. That was enough, I had enough. We broke up with Porch Cat and stopped leaving food out for her.

It was a hard two weeks of training. No eye contact, no giving into feline manipulation, no food. But she got the point. Finally, Porch learned to stop breaking into our house. Now I’ll leave food for her by the garage so she doesn’t associate our home with food. The other day I gave her some bologna. As you can tell from the photo, she’s happy to be fed again.