Catboy - Eric Walters [26]
“But where are they all?” I asked. “It’s not like there are hundreds of junkyards.”
“Often they live in industrial sites like this, but also in abandoned houses and under bridges,” Sarah said.
“We also find them in fields, ravines and public spaces like parks,” Dr. Reynolds added. “Both the Scarborough Bluffs and the Leslie Street Spit are home to two very large colonies. Cats are perfect animals to create feral colonies.”
“Yes,” Doris said, “they multiply quickly and they’re very social. So they like to live in groups.”
“Plus, they are mobile, independent by nature, can catch or scrounge for food and, really, are only semi-domesticated even when they live with people,” Dr. Reynolds said.
“Nobody really owns a cat,” I said. Since Mr. Singh had first said that, I’d come to believe it.
“I’m glad you think that way,” Dr. Reynolds said. “So many people think that feral cats are lost house cats that only need a little affection and a scratch behind their ears.”
“With some of them, it would be a great way to lose a finger,” I said.
“But not all of them,” Doris said. “Some are just a few months away from being house cats and can be very gentle.”
“And others are very savage,” Dr. Reynolds said. “How many cats do you think are in this colony?”
“I know of forty-three cats and some kittens,” I said.
“Are you sure of those numbers?” Dr. Reynolds asked. “It’s difficult to distinguish individuals and get an accurate count of the residents.”
“I’m completely sure,” I said. “I know them, cat by cat.”
“My son spends a lot of time here,” my mother said. “He really cares for these cats.”
“We thought somebody had taken an interest in them,” Doris said. “These cats are in excellent shape.”
“You’ll notice the traps are empty,” Dr. Reynolds said. “These cats are healthy. Thick fur, well fed, perhaps a little bit too well fed. That one tabby is enormous!”
“That’s King,” I said.
“You’ve named them?” Dr. Reynolds asked.
“Not all of them. Just the most important ones,” I said.
“And he’s called King because he’s the dominant tomcat, right?” Dr. Reynolds asked.
“Him and another cat,” I said.
“There’s another cat as big as him?” Dr. Reynolds questioned.
“He’s not that big. He’s sort of long and athletic,” I said. “Does that sound strange, to call a cat athletic?”
“Not strange at all. All cats are athletes,” Dr. Reynolds said.
“But this one is even more than the others. He can really jump, and he’s a great hunter. He’s always catching things,” I said.
“Does he ever fight King for dominance?” Dr. Reynolds asked.
“I’ve never seen Hunter and King fight. They know the other is there, but Hunter stays out of King’s way.”
“That’s probably smart. King didn’t look like he was going to back down from you,” he said.
“I know. That’s why I had to toss the rock. I wasn’t trying to hit him, just scare him away.”
“You never get too close to him, do you?” my mother asked.
“Not close enough to scratch him behind the ears,” I said.
“It’s not you scratching him that I’m afraid of,” she said.
“Well, if he does, he’s received most of his inoculations today from the pills we put in the food he gobbled down.”
“That’s reassuring,” my mother said, although her words and tone of voice didn’t match.
As we were talking, some of the cats had returned, tempted by the food still on the ground.
“Let’s move a little farther away,” I said.
“We should get going,” Dr. Reynolds said. “These cats are fine, and we should leave before the security guard finds us.”
“It’s okay if he does. As long as I tell him you’re okay, then you’ll be fine.”
“That’s nice to hear. Most of the property owners don’t like us. They see us as encouraging something they don’t want to have in the first place,” Dr. Reynolds said.
“As long as you tell Mr. Singh you’re a friend of Taylor—that’s me—then you’ll be welcome here.”
“That’s great. Most owners don’t think of feral cats as any better than an infestation of rats,” Dr. Reynolds said.
“Mr. Singh isn’t the owner. He’s the head security guard.”
“Well, it’s good to have somebody on our side,” Dr. Reynolds said. “But