After picking up sickly Angela on December 10th, Kenric and I made a point to always look for and feed her only remaining sibling. We don’t know what happened to the other two, and we never figured out which cat is their mother. We had named them Michael-Angelo, but after Angelo turned out to be Angela, we started calling Michael in French – Michel in case he turns out to be a Michelle which she did.

Michel was wild, defensive, and a loner. He hissed and growled even when we tried to give him food, and he growled even louder as he ate. The only other cat that he seemed to get along with was a young adult grey tabby. After we fed the two of them at the front of the cathedral, we usually spent time with the Behind-the-Cathedral colony. Soon, Michel started joining us there for more food, but he did not like the cats there, and the feeling was mutual.

I pitied him because he would hide in a corner behind the gate and watch the others play. We knew he wanted to join in, but he scratched at Kenric every time Kenric stretched out his hands towards him. Since Kenric is severely allergic to cats, he stopped. But nothing scares Mr. Morrison. He would let Michel claw at his closed fist, even drawing blood. The more times Michel clawed at him, the more he was convinced that she was warming up to him. He sees Michel as a girl. We started seeing her as a girl too, and she became Michelle to us.

Michelle’s growls became angry meows

“Look! Look! She wants to play!” “Look! She’s not so angry now.” It’s true, in the span of about 30 minutes, Mr. Morrison had turned Michelle’s growls down to angry meows. “She’s not using her claws now.” It was great to know that Michelle could get used to human touches. She was still smacking at his hand, but no more claws.

Gradually, she became more sociable with humans and with other cats, and she started running to greet us. She loved playing with the rolled-up aluminum foil ball Kenric made for her. She’s just an awesome cat. Still, that didn’t make her any easier to trap. She was smart and wouldn’t get close. When we returned from Belgrade on January 11th, the vet was getting ready to leave for vacation. We took the opportunity to go to Berat, Albania for four nights to pick up the things we left at the hotel since late October.

Michelle was being hunted

Once we returned, we tried grabbing her whenever she was close enough to chuck her into a carrier, but she was too quick. Without a trap, it was hopeless. When traps were available again for loan, around February 6th, the tomcats were already in full prowling mode. Mating season was upon us. We were glad that all the female cats in the colonies outside our apartment and behind the Cathedral were spayed. I would not be able to sleep knowing that any of our girls were being hunted and impregnated.

The night of February 5th, Kenric went to feed the cats alone. He didn’t see Michelle even though he circled the Cathedral a few times looking and calling for her. He did see a few new cats near stacked tables but they were not hungry.

I went with him the following evening with two traps. No sign of Michelle. We split up to look and met up behind the Cathedral again. We decided that she must have been locked inside the courtyard of the Bishop’s residence. Kenric said the same few cats from the night before were growling behind the gate near the front of the Cathedral.

She finally made a run for it and jumped through the gate, but immediately went to hide under the covered ice-cream stand. Kenric and I were only able to fend off two of the tomcats. The third, a yellow-and-white one, chased her under the tarp cover. Michelle screamed. She was angry and scared. We tried our best to trap the two outside or at least distract them with some food. They only wanted to go under the tarp. They wanted nothing else and they feared nothing.

We left in tears

Suddenly, Michelle ran back through the gate and hid under the same chair. The three tomcats immediately had her surrounded in every direction again. We pleaded with Michelle for a long time to try and run to us but she couldn’t. She did her best to fight off every advance. I didn’t know how long she could keep going. She must have had to fight them off the night before too. It started raining again. We left in tears. Since Michelle was such an independent and feisty loner, I knew she was extremely angry to be rendered so helpless. My heart broke for her. We cursed ourselves for not trying harder to catch her before then.

We also cursed ourselves for not having a carrier or trap with us the two times we saw that yellow-and-white cat. When Dragan of Pizzeria Sara found out in December that we were serious about sterilizing every homeless cat in town, he pointed out the yellow-and-white cat to us. He said that cat was aggressive and sick, and would be a good one to neuter. The next time we saw that cat again in February, he had a big wound on his thigh and was even sicker, but we didn’t have a carrier or trap with us.

We slept very little that night

Seeing three tomcats surrounding Michelle, it dawned on us that when most of the female cats in town are spayed, all the tomcats will end up converging on the few remaining unspayed females. But Michelle was still so young, so tiny. I called the tomcats many names, but deep down I knew, had they been neutered, they too would be one of our mellow “Good Boys” who would leave the ladies alone during this and every future mating season. We slept very little that night.

The next morning, we brought every kind of bait we had to set the traps. Michelle wasn’t at the front of the Cathedral. Behind the Cathedral, the yellow-and-white cat, whom we later named Lenny, was walking aimlessly and hungry. He looked miserable. It took us just a few minutes to trap him. He looked pitiful in the trap, but I knew his life would get better.

Watching us were two mute guys who have seen us a few times. Every time they saw us feeding the cats, they gave us two thumbs-ups, but we couldn’t understand anything else they signed. I’m sure they understood even less of what I tried to sign. Come to think of it, it’s not too different from how we communicated with some of the older locals who don’t speak English. I hope these two guys at least figured out that when I made the scissors-cutting motion with my index and middle finger, I meant neutering the cat and not giving him a haircut. The one with curly black hair was especially happy seeing the cat in the trap. He let out a cheer and gave me an even bigger smile.

Captured

In the meantime, Michelle had appeared. I didn’t dare imagine her night. She was hungry. Kenric lured her further down the street so that there weren’t six other cats trying to run into the trap for the tasty bait. He came back a few minutes later with a relieved look on his face. I started crying. The mute guys were confused and waved goodbye.

To be trusted, especially by animals, is an indescribable honor.

She learns quickly

Michelle and her good friend, the grey tabby friend we named Chase, had a lot of fun sneaking up on and “Chase-ing” pigeons. A skill that should come in really handy now. Sometimes, they walked us home until the next cat’s territory. One night, at a different square, Michelle was intrigued when she saw Chase drinking from the tap at the fountain, something he does often. She learned quickly. Then, we had to wait for the both of them to finish drinking before we could turn off the tap. If you are wondering what it’s like, it’s like holding the door open for cats.

Kenric and I sorely miss this very special girl. When Danijela sent me a photo of her a few days ago, I almost asked, “Can I talk to her?” These two beautiful spayed sisters are our masterpiece because the worst that could happen to them is no longer possible. They may not be a Michelangelo, but they are Michelle-Angela and they’re having their own Renaissance.

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