Becoming Stan

 Happy Halloween!

Many posts ago I mentioned a book I received as a gift from my sister, Be More Cat. The title once again resonated with me recently during a discussion I was having with my feral feline friend Stan. To recap… Stan has been more than a welcomed visitor to this property for over four years. For about two years the lovely Docken took care of Stan when he visited mostly in the morning for some sleep and breakfast. She bought him a table for the patio and gave him two little houses, side by side on the table. He had a bed and blankets and as I recall he started using it pretty quickly. After breakfast he would generally take off to parts unknown. He still takes off for parts unknown but the obvious difference is… he does it a lot less frequently and he often comes when called, either by shaking a container of dry cat food or simply shouting out his name. Cats have an incredible sense of hearing, better than dogs and they can hear sounds four to five times farther away than humans can.

For approximately the last two years I started taking care of Stan, best I can. Remember, Stan is feral. Yes, food plays an important role. Docken still buys and donates lots of food for Stan and I let him know about it.

fe·ral

/ˈferəl,ˈfirəl/

adjective

(especially of an animal) in a wild state, especially after escape from captivity or domestication."a feral cat".

After two years, I have only had Stan barely touch the tip of my outstretched index finger with his nose on a few occasions. He’s generally cautious and controls my distance from him carefully. On another level, Stan trusts me. He’s comfortable with me to a degree he probably hasn’t felt with another human and it warms my heart. While he was trusting of Docken too, the difference now is… Stan hangs out with me. Stan looks for me and waits for me. In his own way and beyond anything he had here before, for the most part, this is Stan’s home. Yeah, the food, I know, the food… same with a pet dog though.

Getting back to my recent conversation with Stan and we have at least a short conversation everyday, sometimes a few times a day. Yes, it’s mostly one sided. Most mornings he’s just waiting for me to go inside so he can eat his breakfast but he does listen and he does respond with body language and blinking eyes. While I’m basically cordial with people, brief but polite, for the most part… I don’t like people all that much. Think about friends, think about really good friends who you can count on, heck throw in some of your family. These people are few and far between. Now think of something like Facebook (excuse me, Meta). Quit Facebook (and you should), quit Instagram (and you should), quit Twitter (because it makes you stupid), quit LinkedIn (because everybody lies) and watch, most of your “friends” will melt away forever. Anyway, Stan is feral, he avoids humans, he doesn’t trust them and the older I get the more I appreciate that. With help from Covid along with a really toxic sociopolitical climate, I’m a lot like my sweet colleague Stan.

Feral—used to describe an animal (such as a cat or dog) that has escaped and become wild.

I’m in the process of escaping. Hear me growl.

Black Cat by Gentle Giant, Please substitute he/his for she/her, thank you.