I’m sorry. You asked for ideas to keep the cats from entering yards and areas where they are not wanted. I had already written my previous note and was just editing it before I sent it and forgot to add this. My mind is in a bit of turmoil this morning. You are already aware that I ordered the squirt bottles that work very well at repelling cats, dogs, raccoons and squirrels, and that I intend to give one each to Phyllis and Betty with two in reserve for the future. I have also ordered stainless steel referee/emergency whistles as these will scare the hell out of any animal not familiar with them, or a burglar for that matter, and they can be used to call for help in case of an accident or emergency as per Phyllis’s incident when she fell and could not get up or attract attention. I likewise intend to provide these to my neighbors. After the animals experience a few shots from the water bottles and a few blasts on the whistles I do not believe they will intentionally enter the areas where they encounter these again.
Terry, thanks for the reply. It was not my intent to delve into city law or VHS policies. I just wanted to point out to one neighbor the impact their actions were having on another neighbor. It seems that feeding the cats draws them to a certain place and like all wild animals they then wander within that area. It is when those animals become a nuisance that I get concerned. Any suggestions/help you can offer that would allow you to enjoy the animals while at the same time allowing other residents to enjoy their property is appreciated.
Thanks
Terry Keil, President
OHWC
Megabozo [harold@haroldsroom.net]
Hi. I am in the middle of composing a personal note to you (and the board) which touches on these things. I will send it shortly.
Megabozo [harold@haroldsroom.net]
Good morning Terry:
I wanted to drop you a personal note this morning thanking you and the rest of the board for your patience and all you have said or done in trying to help us deal with the cat situation. You know as well as I that we have done everything we can possibly do to keep the cats from wandering, which is why we feed them. We don’t want them scrounging around all over the commons looking for food. Most of the time they are within my view, or I know where they are and what they are doing. The tiny percentage of the time they wander off deeper into the woods or into the street and head south I cannot control. They are very intelligent, and very curious. They are also afraid of most humans, and if approached they will run. They are not aggressive in any way, shape or form. Lisa and I have spent a great deal of time working with them so that they consider our patio area as their safe haven and remain here as much as possible, or return here when they feel threatened. We also stopped putting the cat food outside and stopped feeding it to the raccoons quite some time ago, because I did not want to further exacerbate the problem. We now feed the cats in the sunroom every morning so as not to have carnivore food outside, and the only foods I put out now for the birds and animals are items that carnivores will not eat: sunflower seed, bananas, grapes, blueberries, strawberries, melon, stale bread and the like. There are no carnivore attractants in our ground pans or our feeders. I would also like to mention that on five separate occasions I have personally seen these cats run off other feral cats that were trying to move into the area, cats which had not been sterilized or inoculated, so VHS was correct in that if these cats were not here to chase the new arrivals away we’d be starting from scratch with unsafe animals that would roam much farther. Nature abhors a vacuum, and the food chain slot will be filled by something, and in all likelihood it will be other feral cats. I am truly sorry for the inconvenience, but I wanted to assure you that we have done and will continue to do all we can to minimize this, and that we have followed the law to the letter as best we can per the interpretations and instructions we were given. I am also sorry for the tone of my reply yesterday, but I thought it best that the formal reply to the board missive be restricted to facts, possible solutions for others I have found to be effective, and pertinent aspects of the law regarding community cats. It is not our intention to buck the board, or cause any problems. We strictly want to do what we feel is the right thing to do for these animals, and be law-abiding citizens.
Greetings and salutations, all. I won’t go into great detail here. I will simply copy an e-mail I received, and my reply. I will stress that I have no problem with the HOA. They are simply doing their job. My problem lies with the pettiness of others. If I get the chance I may comment more later. The e-mails are as follow:
Oak Hill Woods Board [oakhillwoods@yahoo.com]
Terry, we have again received complaints of cats from neighbors living around your condo. They have been found on back porch furniture and running into a garage whose door was open. If these cats are pets, then I ask that you maintain them in compliance with Article XVIII section G of the Associations Declaration. If these are wild animals I would ask that you refrain from feeding them as this draws them to the area. I know that you have taken steps to discourage these cats from causing problems within the complex, but it appears these efforts have not resolved all issues.
Thanks
Terry Keil, President
OHWC
Megabozo [harold@haroldsroom.net]
Dear Terry:
The cats were processed at VHS as TNR community cats as per city ordinance, so we do not own them. They come and go as they please at their discretion. I have forwarded your e-mail to VHS for their take regarding the rights of these cats to roam free within city limits, ie our common areas, and to verify the community cat description as “fed by one or more neighbors.” That would be us and the Smiths. It is my understanding city ordinance supersedes HOA rules and requests, as I believe I may have mentioned when I informed the board as to my intentions regarding these cats last fall, and why I proceeded the way I did because I did not want to break the law, but I will advise the accuracy of this when I hear back from VHS. They have been advising me as to what to do about the cats from day one, and I have followed their directions explicitly. You might want to check with our HOA lawyer regarding the cats’ rights and status: city ordinance vs HOA rules and requests et al. Send me the opinion and I will forward it to VHS and my attorney for response. In the interim, I have ordered four adjustable nozzle spray bottles which I have found to be highly effective in chasing the cats away from places we do not want them to be. Pretty damned simple. If a person has an IQ over 75 they should be able to handle it. Shoot them five or six times and they never come back. I will hand deliver these to my two neighbors to the south upon arrival Monday, and gladly give the other two to anyone who might request one. I have one sitting next to my chair at this moment. “I never leave home without it.” I fear this is as much as I can do. I have reached my limit on expenditures in processing the cats so they are sterile and safe, and trying to placate certain people. All of the animal deterrents I have installed will remain active, but I cannot prevent the cats, raccoons, foxes, coyotes or deer from going through the woods or into the streets to bypass them. They will not pass southward through our front or back yards, but that is the limit of my control. If anyone else wants to keep animals from the woods or the streets from entering their yards, I would highly recommend the motion activated sprinkler deterrents. The animals all fear them. We are using 304 SST clad hoses for those to try to prevent them from rupturing in the sunlight and summer heat. You can’t use them in the winter lest they freeze, but if you use them in conjunction with the electronic ultrasound models, especially the adjustable frequency models, it is just like Pavlov’s Dogs: The ultrasonic goes off and, “OH NO! THE HISSING, CLICKING COLD WATER SPRAYER IS NEXT!” The sprinklers are safely tucked away in the garage, but they run anyway.
I will be back in touch when I hear from VHS. Please feel free to forward this as necessary, and if you do run this past our lawyer, please forward his opinion for response.
Harold is doing famously. He and the cats have a mutual respect, and I will kick their butts if they mess with him, or rather shoot them with the water bottle. They know that, but they do love to watch him sometimes, with no hostile intent. They get intrigued when he eats or bathes. Then they drink the water out of his “hot tub.” Not I. I know what is likely in there. Regarding his diet, I am very pleased and do not see him getting any meal worms in the near future. The cherry on top of this cake is a banana. I have known Harold for six years, and he has never even tasted banana before when offered. Today he ate a sizeable chunk off of a one inch piece, and after he took his swim he came back in and finished it off, along with some watermelon and a taste of a piece of nectarine. Nope. As long as this keeps up there will be no occurrence of “sauages” magically appearing in his bowl. I am not going to ruin a good thing. Gotta run now. I have a date with a paddle.
As promised, here is the highly stressed and agitated Harold clambering madly to get out of his horribly confining pool. I didn’t look for the old pictures. This is from five minutes ago. Please disregard the small package floating in the end. Harold asked me to request that. “Pay no attention to the man behind the (shower) curtain,” he said. I expect there will be more of those floaters shortly.
Harold is settling back in nicely. He has approved the current design of his compound, is greatly enjoying his music, and his appetite is first rate (he loves Memoirs Of A Geisha while lounging in his tub and dining). He used to be addicted to his sausages and toast (meal worms and stone ground wheat bread), but since he got back he has had tomato, a wee bit of “toast,” boiled egg white, boiled chicken, tuna in spring water, and a bit of blueberry. He has never cared for grapes. The other turtles love them. I am thinking he may not get any “sausages” for quite a while. I much prefer that his diet be as varied as possible. I intend to give him some earthworms soon, which he disdained after getting hooked on the “sausages.” “What??? Eat THOSE? They’re slimy and gritty!” He and the cats are getting along great. The only thing I worry about with them is that they will steal his tuna and chicken if he doesn’t eat it right away. They’ll suck it right down because his portions are only about the size of my pinky nail. Well, I guess it will serve him right. At any rate, I’ll be back to keep you up to date. Photos of his horrible life at home follow. I’m sorry I didn’t take one while he was wading and lounging in his big pool (MY TUB) yesterday. I will rectify that soon, I promise. I’ll look in my files because I know there are some in there. You’ll have to see it to believe it.
Ruby woke me this morning, a Sunday, shortly after six, and at six-thirty she told me to get my tail up. I felt that I really needed to do so, even though it was Sunday, and I did. I went into my usual routine, so first to the bathroom I went to clean and refill my pipe, and take care of “essential bidness.” Stripey Cat has taken to lolling in my bathroom doorway, rolling on her back, looking at me upside down and acting generally goofy. She loves to mess with me, but still won’t let me touch her. The other cats all wandered in, one after the other, all wanting a few pets, and wanting to know when I’d be done and would get on to the most important part of my morning routine: breakfast for kitties. I gave my pipe a last puff, finished my “bidness” and headed for the kitchen with Stripey Cat bouncing and skipping in front of me. I got the coffee started, went to the pantry and grabbed a can of flaked chicken in gravy, put it on the counter with the blue plastic stirring spoon, went to the sunroom and put three scoops of kibble in the clear plastic feeding pan, and then headed back to the kitchen with six cats in tow. I set the pan down by the chicken in gravy, grabbed the can and popped the lid. Immediately my three assistant chefs were on the counter: Pretty Face, Tiny Terry and Jackson. They waited semi-patiently as I scooped the goodies out of the can onto the kibble, then each snatched a sample bite to make sure it was okay. Stripey Cat had joined us by then, supervising from the bar, to which she gained access via bar stool as Jackson had taught her. The other two can make the jump from the floor. I started spinning the pan and pushing spoonfuls of kibble on top of the goodies to keep the boys from testing any more, and then started to scoop and mix all the while spinning the pan. When satisfied I laid the spoon on the counter and reached for the pan. Stripey Cat spun and left the bar as I picked it up. I said, “Let’s go girls.” Bootsie and Shy, who were at my feet, immediately trotted around the end of the counter in front of me, and I watched the three ladies haul ass for the sunroom. I heard three thuds behind me and knew the boys were off of the counter and on the way. I set the bowl down, and as they began to eat I grabbed their water/milk bowl and went back to the kitchen to clean and refill both sections of that. Next I went out for Lisa’s paper, then filled my coffee cup, retired to the sunroom and woke up my computer and the sound system. My initial morning tasks were completed.
I sat there for a few moments sipping my coffee and puffing on my pipe, and then I decided it was cool enough to open the door for a while, so I rose from my chair, went to the door and slid it wide. I stood there looking out into the woods, and then down toward my neighbors’ house to my left. Out of the corner of my right eye I noticed a brown lump with yellow patterns in the grass at the edge of the woods between our houses. I turned. A turtle was watching me. I remembered that I had left some sliced tomato on the counter that I intended to put out for the turtles, so I went to the kitchen and retrieved it. I very calmly and smoothly walked out hoping I wouldn’t startle the turtle, placed the paper plate on the ground near the waterhole, then turned and went straight back to the house sat down and started watching. He continued to sit right where I first saw him, head up, looking toward the plate. He and I sat watching for a very long while: he the plate, I him. The cats were finishing up their breakfast, and Shy came to the door to join me, but when she saw the turtle she walked out and over to him to take a better look. The cats don’t bother turtles. They were used to Harold being in the sunroom when they were tiny, and had seen turtles in the feeding area all summer after Harold left, so they are very, very familiar with them. They do like to look at them though, and as the others finished they went out on the patio, sat down and watched their sister inspect her find. The turtle drew his limbs and head partially into his shell, but sat there looking right back at Shy. Once her curiosity was satisfied she meandered off into the woods and went to the scratching tree. The others followed her into the woods, and the turtle was forgotten as they began to chase each other round and about and up the trees and the cat and squirrel gym. The turtle extended his legs and head and resumed his previous watching position, still rooted to the spot in which I had first seen him. He stayed there for a long, long time, maybe thirty minutes or so, looking at the plate with the tomatoes, then he came forward about ten feet and stopped again. He sat there for a while, and then he started moving again, angling toward the undergrowth at the edge of the woods in the feeding area underneath and around the birdbath. He disappeared into the foliage, and I watched his progress towards the plate by watching the plants shake. Then I saw his head poke out from between the leaves, and he sat still again for at least ten minutes just looking around to make sure the coast was clear. He finally emerged, went to the plate, pulled a slice of tomato off and began to munch.
I thought he might be “The Watcher,” a regular who comes often and is very familiar with me and my habits. He positioned himself beyond the plate directly facing the patio door as he worked on the slice of tomato, never letting his eyes leave it for more than a few seconds. I sat very still so as not to cause him to bolt for the bushes. He took his time, biting and chomping and looking up at the door. He finally finished his slice and turned to face the watering hole, then headed toward it. He ambled up to it, then slid slightly down the edge, leaned down and began to drink. Again he took his time, slowly sucking water, raising his head to look at the door, then down for more water.
It appeared he was finished and was starting to turn away when he slipped, and into the tiny pond he went. I just laughed. Turtles bathe in it all the time, but they seldom fall in. Once in, he decided to stay for a while. He paddled around a bit, then turned to face the door again and sat there and soaked. As is evident I had snapped a few pics, and I grabbed my phone again and went out to the edge of the patio. Usually when they see me coming turtles leave the tiny pond quickly, but he just sat there and watched me as I took photos of him.
I said to him, “I’m not coming out there. You’re good.” He remained still. I turned and came back into the sunroom and returned to my chair. He stayed in the pond and began to paddle around again. At this point I heard a noise in the kitchen. Lisa was up and pouring her coffee. “Lisa,” I said, “if you come right now you can see a turtle in the pond.” She had not yet seen any of our shelled friends this year. This was only the second I had seen so far. “Hurry,” I said, ‘or you’re going to miss him.”
“A turtle!” she said. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” She grabbed her coffee cup, joined me in the sunroom and slid into her chair. “How long has he been here?”
“About an hour now,” I replied. “He already met the cats, ate a slice of tomato, got a drink and fell into the pond. He’s been paddling around in there for a while. I was afraid he might be about finished and would leave before you got to see him.”
“He’s pretty,” she replied. “He kind of looks like Harold.”
“Yes he does,” I answered, “but his coloring is a little darker I think. Harold’s is a lighter yellow. His is more orange.”
We sipped our coffee and continued to watch him. After a few minutes he began to scrabble his way out of the pond, bracing his front feet on the edge and heaving upward. He hung there for a bit kicking forward with his rear legs trying to gain a foothold.
“I was going to check him after he was done with his bath,” I replied.
That’s something I usually do when I see turtles in the feeding area. When they are finished I go out, pick them up and look them over to be sure they aren’t injured, and to see if I recognize them, or, if not, to get a good look at their coloring and patterns so I’ll recognize them next time. I rose from my seat and out to the pond I went. I picked him up. He drew back into his shell a bit, but did not pull all of the way in and close tightly. Instead he curled his armored forearms and peered at me from between them. “He sure looks like Harold,” Lisa said.
I flipped him over to check his plastron. “No,” I said. “His belly is darker than Harold’s…” It was then I saw the crack in his plastron, angling from the center of the hinge to the left front edge where two of his toenails showed through the crack. My jaw dropped. “Oh my God!” I said. “Oh my God.”
“What is it?” Lisa asked. “Is he hurt?”
“Lisa. I think it is Harold. I’m almost positive it’s Harold.”
“No! You’re kidding! It’s Harold?!”
I turned him upright. As I did he extended his head and looked me dead in the eye. With his head fully exposed I could see the asymmetrical patterns, the telltale sign. All of the turtles who live around us have symmetrical patterns. All of them. If you have read the first chapter of Harold’s Room you know that Harold is not a Hoosier and was rescued over two hours away from where we live, and his pattern really has no pattern. It is more like random splatters from a piece of modern art. “LISA! IT’S HIM! IT’S HAROLD!”
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Let me see! Let me see!” Out the door she came. She looked at him. He turned his head and looked at her. She reached out and touched one of his front legs, both of which were now dangling. He did not flinch. He did not retract. He just looked at her. “HAROLD! You’re home!”
The three of us came into the house. I sat him on the floor, and instead of running for the door as most turtles do, he began to wander around. He headed for the lower windows over by the speaker system, then turned and looked at me. “Daddy,” Lisa said, “I think your boy wants some music.” I had not started the music yet because Lisa was still asleep, but now I obliged.
“I think we’ll start with some nice, quiet morning music,” I said. “Let’s see if he likes Buckethead. He’s never heard Bucket. Hmmm. Should we go with Rooms Of Illusions, or A Real Diamond In The Rough? Harold likes it rough, so I think we’ll go with that.” I started the album, and, just as if he had never left, Harold moved over to the window about eighteen inches from the Jellyfish speaker, settled in, and he began to listen. He likes Buckethead.
“Well,” I said, “now I wonder if he came back because he missed us, or because he missed his music?”
“A little of both I expect,” Lisa replied.
“I hope so,” I answered. After Buckethead was over I played his favorite song for him. Midway through it he moved closer to the speaker system. When it was over he looked at me. He has done that many times before, so I knew what it meant. I restarted the song, louder. His head came all of the way out, completely extended with his nose pointed upward. This is what I refer to as his listening position, what he does when he hears something he really, really likes. This song he really, really likes. It ended. He looked at me again. “One more time, Buddy. One more time. Lisa, we’re going to turn it way up now. He really wants to hear it. Is that okay?”
“Anything he wants. Today Harold can have anything he wants,” she said. And so, once again, Don Henley began belting out Everything Is Different Now, for the third time. We like that song too. It is on our wedding disc.
The rest of the day has been spent retrieving his turtle hut, food and water bowls, and his “hot tub” from the garage, cleaning, rearranging the plant tables, re-establishing Harold’s Enclave, and listening to music with Harold. Our Prodigal Son has returned. Harold is home. Instead of referring to it as the sunroom as we have for the past several months, we can once again say with all honesty, “We are sitting in Harold’s Room.”
