Fern the Fearless Adventurer

About a year ago I was living in a granny flat in Annandale (granny flat = garden flat; this was both, as it was built in the back garden for P's mother to live in, while P & J and their two sons lived in the main house).

Photo: foreground to back, Blanche, Fern, Charlie, Rosy

I'd told P & J before I moved in that I had two cats, but actually had five for about half the time I lived there (only 8 months, sadly) - the two street kittens I'd rescued and planned to keep as my forever cats, and three other street kittens who I intended to rehome. I eventually took darling Charlie and beautiful Blanche to the Cat Protection Society where they lived for a month or two before being adopted (separately, to my sorrow).

I ended up keeping Blanche and Charlie's sister Fern, as well as their cousins Treasure and Rosy, because Fern is so like her mother Sandy, who befriended me when I was a catless cat lover and she was a street cat. Actually, that similarity was the first reason I thought about keeping Fern, rather than either of her siblings, but then it was mostly because she is so brave, friendly, inquisitive, good at climbing, determined to get into every bag, box, drawer and shelf, playful, confident, and fond of snuggling. In other words, I fell in love with her. Also, Fern is quite petite, even as an adult, so she's the 'point five' of my 2.5 fur-children :-)

As the saying "Curiosity killed the cat" indicates, many cats are keen to explore nooks and crannies. Fern takes this to extremes, not only climbing into boxes and drawers, but once hopping into the back of a delivery truck that was picking up a rented fridge from next door. Fortunately the driver noticed her before he closed up and drove off. Fern is also an excellent climber; again, a feature common to many cats - but she is good at climbing down, as well as up - a rare skill.

She does everything whole-heartedly: eating, play-fighting, climbing, hunting, snuggling with her family (feline and human), even sleeping. Most other cats I've known will respond if you stroke them while they're sleeping, either with a friendly "mrrrp?" or by glaring blearily at you. Fern just remains in her neatly curled up sleeping pose and ignores you. If she's on her way to something important, you can click your fingers or call her name to no avail; she just keeps marching straight on to her destination. She is however quite amenable to being called to come in at night (unlike her cousins), and even though she generally Does Not Like Being Picked Up, she'll allow me to carry her inside in the evening.

Fern also likes to sleep at regular times, the most important of which is from around 5 or 6pm to about 11pm or midnight. Then she'll get up, stretch, have a snack, wash her face, then tear around the house attacking rugs, toy mice, and any available human feet, before settling down again for some snoozing and napping.

So when she was Absent Without Official Leave from our current home one evening last week, I was concerned. Having brought the other two in and closed any points of egress at 6pm, I checked for Fern and called her from the front and back yards, with no response. Not a big deal at that point. By 8pm I was a bit worried, and walked around the cul-de-sac where we now live, calling her and checking under shrubs. I started writing this blog post at about 9pm, to stop myself from worrying. After all, the last time she went missing, in November last year, she did come home safely. Eventually.

I am an over-anxious cat-mum, quite often - I have a tendency to anxiety anyway (and do work on strategies to manage that), and I've seen several of Fern's street cat cousins killed on the road, and friends' cats have suffered various alarums and excursions, including a probable spider bite that caused temporary paralysis in one cat's back legs. So my worries were not completely unfounded. At 10pm I walked round to the next street to our north. My route there was via the connecting road, a very busy one, but Fern, if she were there, would've gone via back yards - much safer in terms of traffic, but full of possible dangers such as Sheds and Garages. I walked along the street, calling and pausing to hear any response, intruding onto properties where I could see closed garages or sheds, hoping no one would catch me, but ready with the "my darling cat is missing" explanation.

Last year's disappearance involved a garage only three houses away. That time, I'd last seen Fern at about 4pm, then gone to have a rest. When I brought the others indoors at 6pm, there was no sign of her. I wasn't worried, just thought she was having a good time climbing somewhere. Later that night I was starting to imagine dire things, and checked up the laneway that was my point of access to the granny flat. No sight or sound of my little girl, so I went back home to bed, but slept intermittently, waking to check if Fern was outside wanting to come in.

Photo: Looking across the lane from our old place to a barn (not the guilty garage)

Early the next morning I checked along the laneway again, and heard meowing in response to my calls. It was 5am, so there was no traffic in the lane, which made it easier to hear. I meowed back, and worked out that the sound was coming from behind a light green garage door. When I sat right up against the door, and peered through the small opening at one side, I could see Fern! My darling girl yelled louder when she saw me, and poked one paw into the gap between the concrete wall and the metal roller door, trying to reach me. I didn't think it fair to try waking the residents of the house at 5am, so I sat with Fern, trying to stick my hand through to pat her for reassurance. We managed to touch paw tip to finger tip, but that didn't help get her out, or let her know why I was there but not helping her escape.

She'd missed her evening meal, and probably didn't have access to water. I didn't know what to do about water, but went and got a small tin of tuna (my food, not cat food) and flicked little bits of it to her through the gap. She ate enthusiastically, and meowed at me some more. This roller-door was a side-to-side one, not the usual kind that rolls upwards to open, so when the door was closed, there was space all down one side to allow for the big roll of metal that it would curl into when opening.

Some tradesmen came to work on the driveway of the house next door at 7am, jackhammering up the concrete, starting at the laneway end, right near where Fern and I were. Fern fled in terror at the noise, and I went round to the front door of the green-garage-place to ask the owners if I could retrieve my cat from their garage. A man answered, and when I explained the situation, said he was a guest, and the owners weren't up yet. I went back to try and comfort Fern, who was losing her voice from yelling.

One of the owners, who I'll call UnCatLover, eventually appeared; she said she had to go to work soon so didn't have time to let me through their house and garden to look in the garage, but she'd have a look herself, and I could go back around the block to the laneway entrance to the garage where she'd let me know what she found. UnCatLover reported that there was no sight or sound of a cat, and the garage hadn't been opened since 5pm the previous afternoon, so if it'd been in there at all, it must've run out through the door into the garden while she was looking for it. So I went off calling and looking along the street, back home to see if Fern had reappeared, and along the laneway again - no sign of her.

Later that day I went back to the house to ask if I could look in the garage myself, in case Fern was still in there, and hiding when people she didn't know were hunting for her. UnCatLover's partner took me through the house to the garage, where I discovered just how much stuff there was inside - plenty of scope for a small, traumatised cat to hide. I poked around a bit, as did Helpful Man, but neither of us could see or hear Fern. I showed Helpful Man where Fern had been when I saw her from outside, and he could see traces of the tuna that I'd flicked to her, but he thought she'd probably got out when UnCatLover opened the door into the garden - despite the fact there were dogs in the garden at the time. I asked if I might leave some water in case she was still trapped there, and Helpful Man said okay.

Friends on Facebook had been giving me lots of moral support since I'd posted about Fern being AWOL, and those who lived near enough and had time available offered to come and help me search. After another night of worrying, and hugging Treasure and Rosy rather more than they appreciated, I was out early the next morning calling along the laneway, and particularly outside that light green garage door. To my amazement, I heard Fern again, and was able to see her briefly through the gap between the wall and the roller door - only briefly because work on the next door driveway started up again, and Fern disappeared.

I rang a friend who lived nearby and asked if she could come and help. Julie was very happy to, but explained she was at a friend's place, so it would take her a while to get to the laneway - and then the friend offered to come too. While I waited, there was a lull in the driveway work, and Fern reappeared. After touching paws with her, I ducked back home to get some tuna, partly because I thought she'd be hungry, and partly to entice her to stay within sight.

It was wonderful to have Julie's and her friend's support. When they came, I asked them both to look through the gap, and tell me what they could see, thinking that UnCatLover might be even more sceptical about Fern being there. And halleluja! They both saw her - Julie had met Fern before and recognised her; the friend just saw a small pale shape with big eyes. So I asked Friend (wish I could remember her name!) to stay at the garage door, so she'd see if Fern got out that way, while Julie and I went round to the front door. As expected, UnCatLover was very sceptical, but with me pleading and Julie assuring her that there was indeed a small cat in the garage, she allowed me to go through the house, through the garden, and into the garage (which had been tidied a bit since I was last there).

Julie and I clambered around through the boxes, woodworking materials, and rolls of shadecloth, calling Fern. No response. I looked in the drawers of a desk, into any box that wasn't firmly sealed, and under piles of papers. Helpful Man came to see if he could assist, and offered to open the roller door to see if Fern would run out into the lane. I asked him not to, because I was sure the noise of the door opening would alarm Fern, especially if she was in the corner near the gap where I'd seen her (since the tidy-up, I couldn't see or reach that place from inside the garage). Helpful Man also offered to move some more stuff so I could get to that corner, but looked a bit dubious about it - it would've been a major operation to clear a path I could use to get there. So I found a space where I could sit on the floor, while Helpful Man and Julie waited just outside the garden door, in case my usually brave Fern was hiding from everyone except me. And I sang, because I often sing to my cats - fortunately they don't seem to mind whether I sing in tune or not.

I sang "Ferny is my darling girl, I love her so, I hope she's safe" over and over, and eventually Fern emerged from within a pile of stuff that I'd searched through. I refrained from pouncing on her, but picked her up gently, and started walking towards the garden door. Fern was very distressed, and tried to get away, so I sat down with her and let go, just stroked her and kept singing to her. Then I said to Helpful Man that I'd need to go back through their house and round the block to my place so I could get a carry cage (should've thought of that before!), and he told me there was an ordinary door off to one side that would take me straight out into the laneway. So I hugged Fern a bit more, nicked out the side door nice and quietly, ran home to grab a carry cage (patted Rosy and Trezh, telling them their cousin would be home soon - they seemed unconcerned), and dashed back to the garage.

When I sat and called Fern this time she came straight away. She wasn't pleased to be stuffed into the carry cage, but I didn't give her an option. I carried her to the garden door so I could show Helpful Man, who was pleased to see Fern was okay, and UnCatLover, who was very surprised to see an actual cat being brought out of her garage. I thanked them both very much (hoping that UnCatLover would be the one to find any poo or wee that Fern might've left behind), and went home (via the side door and laneway), accompanied by Julie and Friend, cradling a wailing Fern in the carry cage.

Darling fearless Fern was very jumpy after that, startled by loud noises, wary of strangers instead of friendly, and much less keen on getting into boxes and cupboards - for several months, anyway. She gradually regained her confidence and was back to climbing up, on and into everything, smooching visitors, and exploring our next new neighbourhood.

So last week, when she reappeared at midnight on the same day that she'd gone AWOL, I was hugely relieved. Neither of us wants to go through Fern Being Trapped In A Garage again.

the chair in the park

I've just watched two eps of Bones on telly, one last night, one tonight, so I'm using a Bones-style title for this post.

I loved that the ep screened on Channel 7 tonight had a character called Harriet, who was in industrial espionage - Harriet the Spy :-D

so the chair was sitting under some lovely big gum trees (will get photo of them next time) in the park where I go to feed the street cats. there are a couple of park benches installed by the local council, but this was a dining chair, with nice red patterned fabric on the seat. it came in very handy when I decided that if Lenny wasn't going to come to the food, then I'd take the food to Lenny.




after going to the optometrist for a check-up, and buying groceries at the supermarket at the end of the street, I went back to my car to stash the groceries and pick up the catfood that I'd brought from home - 3 sachets and a tin of fish/meat/chicken, a box of dry food/biscuits, and several containers that had had muffins in them, which make good dishes for the food and milk.


Smoky was waiting under my car - I know she and the others of her family that are still around do recognise me as someone who will feed them and not hurt them, but that's the first time I've thought she recognised my car, presumably by smell. they know me by sight, and know my voice when I call 'puss, puss, puss', but my car looks just like every other little red Hyundai, so it must be the smell of my cats that Smoky recognised (if she did - it could've been coincidence, cos they do sit under other cars sometimes, and I'd parked near where they usually hang out).

oh, this was meant to be a shorter post! I do ramble on, sorry. hopefully either you skipped the previous paragraph, or you find speculations about animal intelligence/memory/senses as interesting as I do.

before I put food out for Smoky, I called 'puss, puss', hoping Sandy and the others would turn up. No one else showed, so I left Smoky eating and went to the house where Sandy had raised her kittens from 3 weeks to 7 weeks.
there used to be some very friendly Korean guys living there, who put food out for Sandy & her babies (but weren't too keen on any of the other street cats, and were a bit hostile to Lenny).



now there are different guys living there, who are generally unsympathetic to all the street cats, and very hostile to any that they find in their vegie garden, which they put a lot of work into.
Two of the guys were sitting in the backyard smoking & chatting; I greeted them and asked if there were any cats around, and they said no, quite emphatically, so I went back to the park.

I stood guard while Smoky ate, smiling at passers by, chatting with ones who seemed friendly, and wishing them a happy new year if they looked like they might be Chinese, Korean, or Vietnamese. After Smoky'd had most of a sachet, some dry food & milk, and was washing her face, I heard a tom caterwauling at the other end of the park, so I went calling, hoping it might be Lenny.



no sign of the tom, but Sandy appeared, meowing loudly back to me, so I was able to smooch with her and give her food too. after she'd eaten, and was washing her face, Tabby leapt over the fence from the front yard of the jungle house, so she, like her sisters, had most of a sachet, some dry food & some milk (and Sandy & Smoky had a bit more wet food, so they wouldn't try and steal Tabby's).



then I realised that Lenny was sitting on a wooden frame covered in shade cloth, in the backyard of the jungle house, overlooking the park. he was obviously keen to get some food, but too wary of me, and the frequent passers-by, to come down into the park. I put the last of the third sachet of wet food, and some dry food, into one of the muffin-tray lids, and, standing on tiptoes and hanging onto the fence for balance, managed to push it up onto the shadecloth a metre or so away from Lenny. he did retreat while I was doing that, but the lovely stinky fishy food drew him back, and once I'd backed off, he tucked in.


meanwhile, Sandy and I played and smooched, Tabby and Smoky sat and watched, and I chatted to passers-by. one woman stopped and took photos of them with her phone. another admired the cats, Smoky particularly, and I told her about their history. she said she'd like to adopt one, but only if they were friendly. I said that there was a young cat who was quite friendly, who I might be able to socialise enough that she could be adopted - I showed the woman a photo of Ember on my phone.

shortly after the woman continued on her way, I saw Ember, crossing the road from the jungle house, heading away from the park. I called, and she came (once she realised who I was) and I opened the tin catfood, thinking I probably would have to take some of it home, as Sandy & her sisters all seemed satisfied, and Lenny wasn't coming down to eat.



however, the sound of the tin opening, and the smell of the jellymeat, got everyone interested again, so I gave plenty to Ember, while doling out spoonfuls to Sandy, Smoky and Tabby, who did quite well at fitting in some more. Lenny came right to the edge of the shadecloth frame and looked so plaintive that I decided to give him some more dry & tinned food, and to try & give him some milk. that's when I spotted the upholstered chair sitting under the trees a little distance away.



I dished up portions of wet & dry food into three cups of a muffin tray and poured some milk into the fourth, made sure the chair was propped firmly against the fence, and clambered up carefully, putting my weight only on the edges of the chair-frame, as the seat itself seemed pretty dodgy. Lenny fled, but I put the muffin tray carefully in the area he'd been sitting in, then moved myself and the chair a good distance away. the four girls by now had finished eating, Ember tried to smooch with Sandy, who smacked her, and Smoky & Tabby decided to sit under or next to the chair.


it was so good to see Lenny cautiously approach the muffin tray and eat some more - he was so absorbed in scoffing food that I was able to take a couple of photos, and once he'd eaten, and I'd not made any attempt to grab him, he relaxed enough to come and sit right at the edge and observe Sandy and me playing chaseys with long twigs from the gum trees.