Moving With a Feral Cat Didn’t Go as Planned

If my new house collapses, blame Feral Fawcett

Kendra Sparkles
Catness

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Photo by Peter Lam CH on Unsplash

“Hand me the hockey stick,” I commanded, lying flat on the top shelf of the basement storage unit as it wobbled. Vincent steadied the shelves and handed me the stick, accidentally smacking my face. Luckily, I was wearing a safety helmet complete with a face shield, so I felt nothing.

I wondered if this was what my husband had in mind when he vowed to love me for better or worse as I adjusted my leather, bite-resistant gloves and gave him a thumbs up.

“Let’s do this,” I said, my voice muffled by the plastic safety shield.

Cautiously, I slid the stick between the concrete foundation and wooden floor joists in the basement of the home we had moved into only a week prior. The stick grazed the grey blob of fur balled up in the tight space, but Feral Fawcett didn’t budge. The terrified cat turned her head slowly, let out a weak hiss, and slumped back down.

We’d tried everything to coax her out but it wasn’t until I brought our dog downstairs — aka the love of her life — and she didn’t even attempt to crawl out of her hiding spot, that I knew Feral Fawcett was stuck.

“She’s not looking good,” I called down to Vincent, still holding onto the unsteady shelf for dear life…

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Kendra Sparkles
Catness

Busy mom taking life one diaper blowout at a time.