Harley
I first saw Harley in late October or November 2011. I was walking back from the gym, when a beautiful tortoiseshell cat ran down Comstock Avenue and across Madison. Her tail was degloved. This is a horrible injury – the fur and much of the flesh is ripped off the tail, leaving raw bleeding flesh. I’m told it’s usually caused by a traffic accident, but I don’t know what happened to her. I had never seen her in the neighborhood before, and she was running as fast as she could. She might have come a long distance.
Naturally, my first thought was to get her to the vet. Of course, I wasn’t able to catch her. She ran until she came to a steep vertical cut in a hillside, and hid in the brush. I talked to her for a while. When I realized that she wasn’t going to let me get nearer, I put food out for her and left her in peace.
I brought food over each day. I thought her injury would lead to sepsis and death if not treated. I hoped to grab her when she weakened, and get her treated. Instead, her tail fell off. It blackened and died over a period of several weeks, but she was otherwise fine. Apparently, when the blood vessels are crushed, the tail dies, but infections do not spread and kill the cat. It looked horrible. Her tail blackened, and looked charred; if I hadn’t seen the original injury, I would have thought that someone had set her on fire.
With a steady food supply, she thrived. She also moved around the corner to my home and joined the Comstock Crew. I often pulled up in the parking lot behind the building where she was living. She came to know my car. And must have followed me home. Before settling in my yard, she made two intermediate moves. Each time she moved closer to my home and to a spot where she could observe me.
Eventually, Harley moved into a shelter next to my house. I still couldn’t get her to the vet. She would sit next to me. She could touch me, but she would snarl and strike if I touched her. She would go nowhere near a trap. (I wonder if she had been injured in a trap.)
Things were going well and I hoped to eventually find her a home. Then I had to move in 2014. My landlady died, and developers bought the house. The Comstock Crew had to break up. Harley was the only cat for whom I couldn’t find a home.
I moved Harley’s shelter and feeding station into a small wooded area behind her old home. The first few times that I went back, she was sitting on the porch, waiting for me to come out. She soon figured out that I was gone and stayed off the porch. She wasn’t welcome there any more, Stray cats do not fit the upscale image that was needed to attract rich college kids.
It’s five years later, and I still feed her at least three times a week. (It’s too difficult for me to get there daily.) She recognizes my car and sometimes comes to greet me. Other times, weeks will go by without seeing her. She always comes back healthy. I don’t think she wanders far. Neighbors say they see her frequently, and some feed her.
I met her a few blocks away once. I called her and she followed me back to her home. That’s an achievement with a stray cat. The cats that live with me usually ignore me when I call them.
For one academic year, she had a feline friend, Boo. A neutered male housecat who went outdoors, they ran around the neighborhood together. Unfortunately, he moved away when school ended. He was the only cat that she had ever befriended.
Five of our horrible winters have passed since I was forced to leave, and Harley is still going strong. I’m still trying to get her to come away with me, but for now Harley remains the last one standing of the Comstock Crew, and the one that got away.