Ansel

Our handsome boy Ansel crossed the Rainbow Bridge this morning.

He had shown up in our shrubbery about fifteen years ago, a skinny, shy ragamuffin of a cat who we would see only fleetingly before he ducked out of sight again.  We and other neighbors fed him off and on for about 18 months.  We decided to call him Ansel because of his black and white coloring, naming him after one of our favorite photographers, Ansel Adams.

We had discussed trapping him, at least to have him neutered, but assumed we'd have to release him back to the shrubbery because he seemed to be feral.  We worried about him all the time, especially when it was cold and rainy, wondering if he had a warm hidey hole somewhere.  And when the coyotes in the canyon would start yipping and howling at night, we'd wonder if it was Ansel they were pursuing.

We hadn't seen him for a while, but on Labor Day weekend in 2007 he turned up again, skinnier and more ragged than ever, but this time he had a big, gaping wound over his right eye.  We knew then that we had to trap him because even if he didn't die from the infected wound, he would probably lose the sight in that eye and be more vulnerable to cars, dogs and coyotes.

Shy and Wounded Canyon Cat

So, with the advice of the Feral Cat Coalition, the  local trap, neuter and release group, we put the Tomahawk cat trap we had bought months earlier out with a dish of food in it to try to trap him.  He was very interested in the food, but kept trying to go through the side of the trap to get to the food instead of going in by the door.  I finally had to resort to using a long thin stick to push the food to the front of the trap, then move it back to the other end when he finally followed it in through to door, then manually spring the trap when he was far enough inside.  He was definitely NOT HAPPY to be in the trap, and disliked cages, carriers or confined spaces forever after that.

But we had caught him and were able to get him to the vet to get the wound cleaned and stitched up, and get him neutered, too.  Because we thought he was feral and would have to be returned to the canyon shrubbery once he had recovered from the wound, the vet also clipped off the tip of his right ear to signify that he had been neutered so he would not have to be trapped again.  Since we had to continue to treat the head wound, we set up a big cage in our family room with the help of our friend Val Miller.  We had to let Ansel out to clean the cage and the second time that happened he strolled out, came over to me and jumped up in my lap and made himself at home--clearly not feral.

Ansel At Home

We found out later from a neighbor who was also our USPS mail carrier that Ansel had belonged to a woman who had since died, so we adopted him and he became an indoor kitty.  He quickly established himself as the Alpha cat in the household; he had to overcome the objections of Chutzpaw and the other male cats, but although Chuzpaw was bigger than he, Ansel had muscles and street smarts from his days as a canyon cat that helped him get the upper paw.  Ansel and Chutzpaw would launch themselves at each other, fur flying as they rolled on the floor in their mock battles for household supremacy; then they would sit up, lick their fur back into place and go about their business.

When we adopted two five month old kittens, Bailey and Jenna, a few years later, Ansel became their nursemaid and nanny, and he continued to protect them for the rest of his life.  Anybody who messed with his girls would soon have to deal with Ansel.

Jenna, Bailey and Ansel

He wasn't pleased when Princess Fairweather Daintypaws arrived in the house about two years ago; her agenda of achieving world domination through intimidation and outright conquest didn't sit right with him and he set about the task of teaching her some good manners and civilized behavior.  Part of the "civilizing" process included us taking the two of them for twice daily walks in the garden on harnesses and leashes for the last six months.  Both Ansel and Princess enjoyed the walks, although they usually each went their separate ways--for a while.  Then Ansel would show up wherever she was to check up on her and make sure she wasn't up to mischief.  Then he would go on his way to secure the perimeter of the property and maybe take a dirt bath to reassert his macho credentials.

Warm Pavement

Ooohhh, Love That Dirt Bath

Where Did She Go?  

He was a good cat, one of the best we've ever been privileged to have.