THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

Of course! It seems like a simple question, but as is often the case, our big, complicated brains allow us to add nuance to the answer. I’ve gone on record as arguing that yes indeed, mammals like dogs and horses can be happy, how could they not be? Feeling good is a way for the body to tell the brain (as if they were separate, forgive me for this simplistic duality) that it is in an environment that is safe and healthy. The neuro-hormones associated with happiness, like dopamine and oxytocin are shared by all mammals, and expressive mammals like dogs have the same facial expressions as we do when we are happy ourselves. I write about this in the book For the Love of a Dog and show examples in the DVD of the same name.

However, I was reminded that the question has more depth than “can a dog feel happy?” while reading  the book Mental Health and Well-being in Animals, edited by Frank McMillan. It is an excellent book for anyone interested in the mental life of animals, with chapters by Pam Reid, Marian Dawkins (on suffering, always an extremely thoughtful writer), Mark Bekoff, Suzanne Hetts, Temple Grandin, Jaak Panskepp, Bernie Rolland, and on and on. A truly impressive collection of knowledgeable, thoughtful people.

McMillan himself wrote the chapter titled “Do Animals Experience True Happiness?” In it, he reminds us that the concept of “happy” has two meanings: 1) a temporary mood or short term experience (joy, enthusiasm, pleasure) and 2) a long-term state associated with, in his words, “one’s evaluative overview of life.” In other words, there is a difference between being happy the moment you discovered you won a prize, and whether you’d describe your life as a happy one. “We just want you to be happy, dear,” coming from your parents isn’t asking that you have a few seconds of pleasure from a chocolate chip cookie, but rather enjoy a long-term state of satisfaction and contentment with life overall.

McMillan suggests that we use the term “happy” for the short-term state and “happiness” for the long-term one. It’s the “happy life” aspect of happiness that causes people to question whether animals can experience happiness. All biologists I know agree that mammals can experience short term pleasure, but some argue that animals like dogs are not able to evaluate and make judgements about their lives. McMillan writes an extremely thoughtful and thought-provoking article about this issue, arguing in part that animals exhibit many of the same needs that people have in order to achieve long-term happiness (such as control over their environment, a sense of achievement, and comparisons with others).

These are important and interesting arguments, and McMillan ends the article with an anecdote of a Beagle named Billy, whose relentless enthusiasm makes it impossible not to describe him as an animal who experiences happiness. Billy’s case brings us the concept of “set point,” or the well recognized tendency of individuals to have a base level of happiness (or lack thereof) that may be influenced by short term events, but not for long. I’d add that given what we now know about neurobiology and behavior, much of a person’s emotional approach to life is a question of how their brains function, based both on genetics and experience. Thus, it seems to me that “happiness” is not just a matter of cognitive judgements about one’s life, but also about one’s brain function and physiology. Our dogs may not make the same kind of judgements about their lives as we do (Oh, if only I’d…. when I was younger!), but it does seem reasonable that individual mammals have the same set of biological factors that influence whether we are generally cheerful or not as we go through out days. I’ve known so many dogs I’d call truly happy, others I’d categorize as experiencing “happy” times but not true happiness.  You?  Willie, by the way, seems to tilt between extreme joy and extreme anxiety on a daily basis.  What about your dogs? (And you… would you describe yourself as a “happy person?” Do you think that influences your dog(s)?)

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Holy moly, there is a lot going on. The wolf controversy continues to take lots of my time (about to do an interview on it now, testifying next week at the NRB in Eau Claire) and I have lots of evening talks to prepare for. In addition, fall in the country is wonderful and, well …, full. There are apples to pick & process for my annual apple/wild plum butter sauce, tons of gardening to do (just ordered a few tons of mulch, oh my), barns to clean out, windows to wash, garages to clean, trees to trim, thistles to kill, and on and on. And now, cats to get final vaccinations for . . .

Introducing the next, and hopefully VERY long, chapter in life on the farm. As many of you know, after a feral cat had kittens in my barn I had hopes of taming her and keeping one her kittens as barn cats. She had other plans, being a truly wild animal, and after I had her spayed, she attempted to lure her kitten away from the barn and into the woods. One can hardly blame her; after all, from her perspective, I stole her kittens (probably ate them for all she knew), trapped and tortured her and then expected her to stay? I wish I knew where she was, but am glad that she is spayed and won’t be having more litters.

That left me with no cats on the farm at all, and when the cats away…. Yup, the mice will play. Worse, the rats were not just increasing, they were beginning to hold conventions. I expected to walk into the barn and find them holding little cell phones and video cameras. I could write an entire article on rats, and how much I adore domestic ones as pets, and how much I dislike having to rid the barn of them. I’ll summarize by saying that the last time I pretended there were no rats in the barn they ended up in my house. It’s one thing to have a pet rat. It’s another altogether to see a wild one run across your kitchen floor and discover the gaping holes they’d chewed in your cabinets. (And to hear your friends suggest that they might never visit again.)

As often happens, the  universe provided: Right after Xena the feral cat disappeared and Calico had found a wonderful new home, I learned that neighbors had a momma cat who showed up in their shed half dead, starved and pregnant. She eventually had 7 healthy kittens, thanks to the care and concern my friends showered upon her. Momma was clearly raised around people, she was super friendly and sought out people to rub against. When I contacted them they had one kitten left and also needed to find a home for momma. And so, here they are, momma Nellie (bottom) and kitten Polly, who are now settled into Redstart Farm, I hope for many, many years to come. They came with horrific diarrhea but I think we have that turned around. Nellie continues to gain weight and Polly is growing like a weed. Polly (both cats are polydactyl) is all white but her eyes are green and she does not appear to be deaf. She might have some health challenges in the future (all white cats are more susceptible to skin cancer) but I’ll give her the absolute best life I can. And how many barn cats have a cat tree in the hay mow?

Here’s one of fall’s most reliable predictors: the wild sunflowers in bloom in front of the barn. It is always bittersweet to see them.

But it is cool (yeah!) and raining today (even better) and we get to be home this weekend. Willie and I will work sheep a little, but I’m afraid his shoulder is regressing. He was visibly limping last week, so we’re back to exercise restrictions and lots of PT exercises. I  honestly don’t know if he’s going to be able to do the physical work to be able to compete in trials–driving a big course takes lots of ‘short stopping’ and stress on his injured ligaments. (His tendon was surgically repaired, but no such possibility for the medial ligaments that were torn.) We’ll see, I’m taking a long term, philosophic approach, and remind myself every day that Willie still can work sheep at the farm, and that’s more important to him than anything else. He’s entered in one more trial and a sheepdog clinic in mid October, we’ll see how he’s doing. He doesn’t know about any of this and is happy it’s cool and that Jim and I are home and he gets to work sheep a little bit. Life is good.

Happy Day! The first kitten just went to her new home. OJ, the little orange and white female, is going to a good friend and yoga coach, Scott Anderson and his wife Collette. They both adore cats and have moved heaven and earth for them if the need arises (think the feline version of Willie’s surgery and year long rehab). I am still all oxytocin-y about the whole thing. Here’s Scott and the little girl right before they went home:

In hopes it is helpful to others, here are some things I’ve done (so far anyway, this adventure is far from over) and some things I’ve learned along the way:

CAPTURING: It was clear early on that taming the kittens so that they let me catch them in the barn was not going to happen. If you want to start socializing kittens when they are within their defined period of socialization (3 to 7 wks, although that doesn’t mean you can’t do it later) you most likely need to capture them with some kind of trapping method. Lots of folks on FB told me they had had luck with trad’l live traps, but there is a danger that the door could slam on one kitten while following another who is already inside. I also hated the idea of a very young kitten trapped in 100 degree weather for up to 8 hours, so I used the low tech, tried and true method of building a trap (a huge old dog crate), attaching a string to the door, and conditioning the kittens to come inside when I was sitting about 15 feet (20?) feet away. The plus side here is that once the kittens are trapped you know it, and can handle it right away. You also know what you’re trapping: I didn’t want mom yet until I had the kittens, nor a raccoon (possible), a rat (possible), or a weasel (fill in the blanks).

The downside is obvious: you have to sit outside forever waiting for the kittens to venture inside. (Try your hardest to avoid a record setting heat wave that means it is still 95 degrees at 9 o’clock at night.) I used chicken as a lure, first tossed it within 5 feet of the kittens and then withdrew, gradually moved it closer to the crate and eventually inside. I left food inside twice a day for 3 days before I tried to pull the door shut.  I tried to make the timing predictable. Although I carefully tested pulling the door shut (note the comment on FB about someone who pulled the string but the door didn’t close well enough) it STILL didn’t work the first time I pulled it shut with 2 kittens inside. The string got hung up on a bungi cord and the kittens easily slipped out. That actually turned out to be a good thing: they weren’t that frightened and came right back in and this time the system worked. There also weren’t other kittens out who could see what happened; one of my criteria was to get all the kittens in the area into the crate before pulling the door shut. I didn’t want one kitten outside seeing what happened and avoiding the crate from then on.

On Wednesday night two kittens showed up and after teasing me (one in, one almost in… other in, one almost in….) both finally went into the crate and I pulled the line in like a fisherman with my heart pounding. Success! I covered the crate and carried it, kittens scrambling and yowling, into the house. The next morning, yesterday, I caught 2 more. No sign of the 5th, but I have high hopes he is still with him mom. I’ll start again this weekend trying to trap them.

TAMING: I don’t use that term lightly.  Feral kittens are basically wild animals who have the potential of being afraid of people their entire lives. But if they come in early enough, and I am confident that these have, they can be socialized to people in relatively little time. Here’s what I’ve done, and some very helpful things I’ve learned along the way from people more expert than I in taming wild kittens:

WHERE SHOULD YOU PUT THEM? The answer is simple: In a small space. I put them in the downstairs bathroom, a pretty small room where they immediately took refuge behind the toilet. That’s fine. They are easily caught or fed there, and there’s no chance they’ll be able to run away. The last thing you want is to chase them and teach them that they were right to be afraid of you in the first place. If you don’t have a small room, use a crate.

TOGETHER OR ALONE? Until now the kittens have all been together, but it seemed to me that they’d socialize faster if a human was their only social companion. Kelly Sorensen, feral kitten socializer of Dane County Friends of Ferals extraordinaire, agreed. So Jim brought home another litter box, and after we took the photos below we moved the two ginger boys to an upstairs bathroom and keep Calico girl by herself downstairs. I might separate the boys too, but that does make time with each of them more complicated. It’s all a trade off of what’s best for them, how much time you have and the logistics of life.

FEEDING: Food should come from you and you alone. I came into the room about 5 times a day with food (okay, I’m fessing up, my productivity has taken a dive, no question). I entered trilling like a queen cat returning to her litter with food. FYI, it took me 4 years to learn how to trill–I’ll try to make a recording of it and put it on YouTube next week. I have no idea if it had any effect on the kittens, but it does serve to condition them to expect something good when you enter. Here’s a great tip I learned today from Kelly: Instead of putting the food down on the floor, with the idea of bringing it closer and closer to you (which I’ve done with some success), it goes much faster if you put the food at the end of a long spoon and let the kittens lick it off. I found I could get my hand within a foot of them with no hissing from Brave (aka Hissy-Boy, more on him later!) Don’t worry if they are too frightened to eat the first night, that is a common side effect of cortisol production and is expected. I wasn’t worried that the first 2 didn’t eat that night, but was glad to see them eat the next morning. Whenever I left I did not leave food in the room for them: Again: YOU = FOOD and are the sole source of it, don’t let them eat when you’re not at least in the room. If you are getting worried that they haven’t eaten, Kelly suggested putting the food on the end of the spoon and leaving it there, thus getting them used to eating from a spoon. In a day or two you can pick up the spoon and let them eat off of it while you hold it. Smart.

HANDLING: Here’s what I wasn’t sure about, given that my work with cats has almost all been with socialized, older companion animals who either don’t use the litter box or are aggressive to cats or people: How much should one force an interaction? Should you wait and lure them closer and let them come to you? That’s often your best bet with adult dogs and cats. But not in this case, says Kelly, don’t hesitate to reach in and pick them up. Picking them up by the scruff (if they are still young) is best, using the method that their mom uses and that results in a relaxed posture and no desperate scrambling to grab onto something with their nails. Be sure to use leather gloves at first, some kittens, including Brave, will bite and scratch before you can get a good grip. I like to swaddle them with a towel so that their 4 paws are wrapped in such a way you don’t have to worry about getting scratched. Then their little heads are sticking out and you can feed, pet and get them used to you. I loved that even yesterday, on day one, Calico raised her chin when I rubbed it, as if she liked it. Yesterday I found that some would readily swallow goat milk from a dropper, others were too nervous to do so. But hold them against you if you can, for up to a half hour or so, even carrying them around in a sling if you have one. The more they get used to being held and carried around the faster they will socialize. I’ll be spending lots of time catching up on my reading with a kitten in my lap. (Allergies? Did someone mention allergies? La La La, I can’t hear you!)

VEIL YOUR EYES: I almost forgot to add this very important point, one of my favorite aspects of feline communication. Cats avoid direct eye contact (much like unfamiliar dogs) and sometimes do “Look  Aways.” But cats also simply shut their eyelids, slowly and purposefully, while continuing to look in the other’s direction. I have used that for years with adult cats: as soon as the make eye contact I slowly lower my eye lids. We think it’s a friendly way of saying “I mean you no harm,” something like extending your weapon hand to “shake” to prove you have no axe or knife in it! Be sure to do this whenever your kitten makes eye contact with you. Calico is looking at my face often now, and I make a big show of slowly closing my eyes. (It’s sort of fun!)

HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE? Ah, there’s no answer to that question, because the answer is in the details. What are their genetics? How inherently shy are they? How much time do you have to spend with them? I’ve heard everything from 3 days to 3 weeks. One thing you can predict: the hissiest, growliest one will be the first to tame and the quiet, shy one in the corner the last. It makes sense when Kelly explains what she thinks is going on: all the kittens are frightened, but the hisser is the one brave enough to act on his fears. “YOU! He says. “YOU ARE BEING WARNED! I HAVE WEAPONS!” Brave hissed so much yesterday that I started laughing at him. He’s much much better today, but I have to give him credit for being the one to step up to the plate and try to defend himself.

HERE’S WHO IS LEFT: I’m hoping Calico and her mom will become my barn cats, so that I still get to have a cat, just not in the house, and that the three boys find wonderful homes. Whether it is inside or out is a complex issue, one that is best considered in a blog focused on just that issue. Friends of Ferals has agreed to foster them because of my allergies (thank you Dan Johnson! What a guy….), but the kittens will be here until early next week. Anybody, uh… want a kitten? [By the way, they look MUCH bigger in these photos than they do in person! They weigh about 1.50 to 1.6 lbs right now, truly tiny.)

I mentioned it last week, but another good source of information is Alley Cat Allies and on a related topic, Pet Detective Matt Elvin’s website is a great source for information about a lost cat.

HERE’S ‘CALICO’ (Sorry, I’ve got dibs!)

HERE’S ‘BRAVE‘ (Note the flattened ears! At least he wasn’t hissing!)       

AND HERE’S ‘NOT BRAVE’ Help, he deserves another name, yes? Any ideas? Better yet, homes? 

There’s good news, and there’s bad news. But the bad news is good news. Sort of. And the good news, well… it remains to be seen how it will be cataloged when the chapter is completed.

I’ll get the first news out of the way now, because its hard for me to write about. Those of you who know me well know that I love cats. I’ve had at least one cat ever since I’ve been an almost adult, for over 46 years. One of the best cats I’ve ever had is Sushi, the cat I got 11 years ago at the Dane County Humane Society. Sushi is fine, don’t worry, I’m not working up to tell you that she’s died. As a matter of fact, she’s never been happier. She’s just not at Redstart Farm.

Long story short: I’m allergic to cats. A lot. So much so that when I went to the humane society to look for a cat I held prospects up against my face and waited to see if my eyes would redden, my lungs would close and I’d break out into hives. That’s what happened with my first three choices. Sushi was the only cat who didn’t elicit that extreme a response. And so home she came, a young stray who liked to be in the same room as me but hated being touched. We worked on that, and after a few years Sushi became a cuddly lap cat, who hunted the barn religiously but loved nothing more than to be in your lap when inside. She slept in bed with me in winter, on my lap in the evenings and purred and rubbed her way even further into my heart.

As she became increasingly cuddly, my allergies became increasing worse. I will not bore you with what I have done to turn my allergies around. I’ll just say, it’s a lot.  (Nor will I even discuss that fact that my allergist says I’m allergic to dogs. “La La La” I say, with my hands covering my ears. But yes, I’m working on that too, but both dogs and cats appear to be just too much for my system.)

The worst consequence of my cat allergy has been asthma, which got so bad it made walking up my own hill difficult unto itself. After years and years of western and adjunctive, alternative medicine, I asked dear friends to take Sushi for a week so that I could have the house deep cleaned to see if it would help my lungs. It helped. Not 100%, but the difference was notable. But here’s what was far more significant: For the first time in years, I wasn’t feeling guilty because I couldn’t let Sushi in the bedroom anymore. I didn’t have to say, ten times a day, “I’m sorry Sushi” as I picked her up and put her out of my lap. I had known it was hard on both Sushi and me, but as is often the case, I didn’t realize how hard it was until things changed.

After a week, I went to my dear friends with some more cat food and to visit Sushi. I’d had almost daily reports, and she clearly was in heaven. She slept in bed with her new humans at night, made friends with the dogs (she loves dogs, and these ones won’t herd her), and carefully, slowly, was allowed outside into a perfect environment for an indoor/outdoor cat. The house is a good third of a mile from any road, and it’s off the road that’s off the road that’s off the road from my house, if that makes any sense. (If it doesn’t, just read “safe from cars.”) There’s woods and fields and comfy laps to cuddle in. They adore her, and she adores them. When I went to visit after a week I knew I should ask them to keep her. Eyes brimming with tears, I began to ask, but Gary, cat lover and already Sushi’s best friend, said “You don’t even have to ask.”

It broke my heart, and it was the right thing to do. Sushi has never been happier. (On my first visit she actually avoided me. The message was clear: Do NOT remove me from this perfect place. Thankfully she no longer worries I’ll move her and comes up to say hi.) Her new humans, Beth and Gary, are the best new family for her imaginable. They move heaven and earth for their animals, and wrap their lives around their pets. Sushi is a very, very lucky cat, and I will always be grateful to Beth and Gary for giving her a new  home. Predictably, for days I felt like someone had died. I grieved for Sushi and for my old life, cried a lot, and kept reminding myself how much happier Sushi is now that she can cuddle again. (I thought Willie would be happier too, but he actually became more hyper after Sushi left. Very interesting response, I have to say. He’s settled down now, thanks in part to his acupuncturist.)

The Cycle of Life: Two days after Sushi left I saw a tiny, dark cat run into the barn. I thought it might be the stray male that neighbors have told me about. I’d never seen it before, not surprisingly. Sushi had no interest in opening up the farm as a feline bed and breakfast, and would have aggressively kept other cats out.  A month after I saw the little cat I was feeding the sheep on the back side of the barn and saw a fuzzy little tail disappear down a hole. I’ve seen far too many tails lately in the barn: after Sushi left the rodent population seemed to explode. But this tail had hair on it, light orange hair at that.  Sure enough, a few hours later a tiny, little kitten face appeared under the barn’s old cement foundation. That night I only saw the one, and had no idea whether it had been dropped off (a common occurrence in the country), moved by mom from another location or what.

The next morning there were two. Then three. And four. And finally, about a week later, I can attest that there appear to be five kittens in total, probably just about 4 weeks old.  I’ve never seen all 5 at the same time, but there appears to be 3 oranges, one orange and white, and one calico (Mom is a tortie). I’ve seen mom a few times now; once she almost ran into me as I walked around the corner, her mouth stuffed with a large rodent as she exited the barn.

Here are 2 not very good photos of the kittens. I’d have taken more, but the noise of the shutter bothers them, and I’m working hard to habituate them to my presence. (Look carefully and you’ll see a second orange kitten behind the first in the photo on the right.)

Right now I have a large dog crate set out now beside where you see the kittens, door affixed open, for them to get used to. Soon I’ll start putting food inside. My goal is to use the crate to trap the kittens before they are too old to socialize. Kitten socialization is earlier than dogs, it’s estimated to be about 3 to 7 weeks of age. Alley Cat Allies, an excellent resource for anyone with feral cats or kittens in their yard, recommends keeping kittens with their mother if you possibly can until 6 weeks of age. On the other hand, my Facebook page is full advice to trap them right away, lest they become impossible to socialize to people.  It’s all a trade off, one can argue either side, from “Catch them yesterday” to “Wait until they are older.” I’m going one day at a time, balancing that oh-so-important time with their mother and getting them around people before they are too hard to tame.

Daily now I am spending time beside them as they play and explore a few feet from the barn and their hidey hole. Last night I began tossing them chicken — clearly their first introduction to solid food based on their attempts to gum the pieces — and it is already helping them habituate to my approach. This morning I was able to stand within 2 or 3 feet of two of them (the orange ones are the boldest by far) while they watched me attempt to toss chicken pieces close to them. (A video of my lack of aim would go viral. I got 1 out of 5 pieces of chicken anywhere near them. Sigh.)

Soon I’ll start putting food inside the dog crate, in hopes that I can catch them inside eventually. Yes, there are live traps, and lots of folks have used small ones on kittens, but I’d much rather use this method (sit outside dog crate with a string on the door and pull it shut once the kittens are inside) than take the risk of a live trap. The door to a live trap slams shut when an animal stands on a plate in the back of the trap, and the danger with a litter is having one kitten killed by the door as the other kitten sets off the trap. I may end up taking the risk, but only if I have no other choice.  Right now I’m going day by day, slowly teaching the kittens that I’m nothing to fear when I appear behind the barn.

It’s doubtful though that they will become tame enough for me to pick up, so I’ll probably have to use some form of safe trap to catch them. Once the kittens are caught I will set out a live trap for mom. If I’m successful (I am already feeding her in the area where I’ll try to trap her, and will set out the trap there tonight for her to get used to), I’ll have her spayed. My wildlife ecologist friends will be displeased to hear that I’ll bring her back to the farm and let her out in the barn. She is excessively shy and wary, and I think she would spend the rest of her life hiding in a basement if someone tried to make her a house pet. And who knows; perhaps she’ll eventually decide that people aren’t monsters after all. I’ll keep you posted on all this; I’ll write a more instructive blog post next week about what to do about lost or feral cats and kittens. But for now, time to go…. gotta go spend some time with the kittens again.

MEANWHILE, ON THE REST OF THE FARM: The primary news is that it is hateful weather. 97 predicted today, humid and still and just plain awful. We haven’t had rain in forever; my pasture is a disaster and I’m feeding hay twice a day now. It’s too hot to work Willie, for the sake of all 3 species. The poor sheep are miserable, I feel so sorry for them. Jim set up a fan in the barn which helps them immensely, and they spend much of the day in a stupor in front of it now. Even sitting outside with the kittens is tough for a border collie like me; it’s not too bad in the evening when it’s shaded, but early in the morning it’s in full sun and I just can’t spend too long there or I wilt. I sit out at night in a chair so I can spend longer beside the kittens, but in the sun I toss them food for approaching, or I turn around and withdraw if they even lean forward toward me.  Both should be good reinforcers, so I have hopes I can make a lot of progress in spite of the heat…. Cross your paws for them, they are damnably cute and of course I’ve become attached to them already.

So, here we are: I had to say goodbye to one cat, and now I have 6. Life is one amazing adventure, isn’t it? And what about you… ever tamed or trapped feral kittens?