There’s a saying about ferals which goes “Just because you can’t touch them, doesn’t mean you can’t love them” and that phrase can rightly be applied to my Tigar macka (her name means Tiger cat). Unapproachable and uncatchable, she’s
been living with me for more than 16 years and yet, up to these days, she still has remained the very definition of distrustful cautiousness.
There’s really not much I could say about her. She appeared in front of
the building I lived in as a half-grown kitten, maybe six or seven months old, extremely wary, vigilant and always on guard. Although she never befriended any of my kitties and wasn’t social at all, she kept coming and was always around, in their close proximity,
perhaps just taking comfort in being near her own kind. Nevertheless, when the time had come for her to be spayed, I had no other choice but to trap her in order to take her to the vet’s, where she was given general anesthesia through the bars and taken out
only when she was already in a deep sleep. No one was willing to take a risk - had she been awake, she would’ve most certainly fought with all her might and nothing would’ve stopped her from escaping.
Our next close
encounter took place many years later, when we were all getting ready to move to the shelter. I somehow succeeded in luring her into a big crate in my garage and it was probably the last time she was within my reach; as soon as she got out she disappeared into
the yard, not to be touched ever again. She does approach me at feeding time, but maintains a safe distance and keeps a watchful eye on every move I make…
She is in great shape and looks a lot younger than her age, but photos always fail
to show her real self, as she feels uncomfortable in the presence of humans. Viewed from afar, she is a beautiful little cat, a gorgeous tabby with stunningly bright emerald eyes, an independent and solitary creature retaining and enjoying her freedom. She
doesn’t need anyone to find joy in her life; she set her boundaries a long time ago and the least I can do is respect them.
been living with me for more than 16 years and yet, up to these days, she still has remained the very definition of distrustful cautiousness.
There’s really not much I could say about her. She appeared in front of
the building I lived in as a half-grown kitten, maybe six or seven months old, extremely wary, vigilant and always on guard. Although she never befriended any of my kitties and wasn’t social at all, she kept coming and was always around, in their close proximity,
perhaps just taking comfort in being near her own kind. Nevertheless, when the time had come for her to be spayed, I had no other choice but to trap her in order to take her to the vet’s, where she was given general anesthesia through the bars and taken out
only when she was already in a deep sleep. No one was willing to take a risk - had she been awake, she would’ve most certainly fought with all her might and nothing would’ve stopped her from escaping.
Our next close
encounter took place many years later, when we were all getting ready to move to the shelter. I somehow succeeded in luring her into a big crate in my garage and it was probably the last time she was within my reach; as soon as she got out she disappeared into
the yard, not to be touched ever again. She does approach me at feeding time, but maintains a safe distance and keeps a watchful eye on every move I make…
She is in great shape and looks a lot younger than her age, but photos always fail
to show her real self, as she feels uncomfortable in the presence of humans. Viewed from afar, she is a beautiful little cat, a gorgeous tabby with stunningly bright emerald eyes, an independent and solitary creature retaining and enjoying her freedom. She
doesn’t need anyone to find joy in her life; she set her boundaries a long time ago and the least I can do is respect them.