Cat Sanctuary Update: The Incredible Shrinkproof Serena

How is it possible not to know when your own pet cat has given birth? "Really, Pris. You know about feral barn cats, but not about Serena, who was born in your office and snuggled in your hand before she was a full day old?"



With Serena all kinds of things are possible.

Serena is Burr's daughter. Burr is a mixed breed, but he looks like a classic Stumpy Manx, a big fat cat with extra-long hind legs, a thick body shape, a big round head, and less than half a tail. This look is produced by a mutant gene that is lethal if kittens get two copies of it. I have wondered, too, about my American Short Hair cat family; our long-ago Queen Mogwai had a different mutant look, with extra-long hind legs, a slim body shape, and an extra-long tail, and I've wondered whether that gene might be one that mixes especially badly with the Manx gene. I recommend sterilization for all Manx cats on principle. Not that they aren't lovable animals--if anything they'd be ideal cats to rescue from a shelter, because shelter cats have to be sterilized in any case, and when Manx cats bond with a human they're great pets.

But Serena has a complete tail, not even a short one, and a graceful body shape with both pairs of legs in normal proportion; she doesn't show the effects of the lethal Manx gene. She's just a big fat cat, a spring kitten who's already taller, longer, and wider than many adult cats get, and still growing.

"Oh no," I said. "The January thaw was so warm for so long that that Manx cat got pregnant...she ought to have been spayed."

"That cat's not Manx! She's a special, social cat, and so will her kittens be. I want one," someone said.

"Well...I don't want to abort kittens, anyway," I said, "but Manx kittens suffer and die young."

"Not all of them--they couldn't. Not the ones whose parents look normal."

So Serena grew rounder and rounder in peace. She is already as big as her grandmother Irene, and Irene was a substantial-looking cat.

Unlike all spring kittens I've known who were pets, including Irene at that age, Serena politely declined to come indoors even on the coldest nights of her first winter. "I'll be fine," she nonverbally said. "Feel my extra-thick coat? I'm fine out in the cold."

Saturday afternoon was a fine warm sunny February-thaw day. Serena seemed nervous and irritable, possibly because kittens were due, I thought. For the first time in her life she slapped at me impatiently, turning her back on me, rather than playfully.slapping and running away...she's always liked playing tag. I noticed, too, a lot of evidence of visiting cats, all keeping out of sight. Sometimes father cats annoy mother cats right after kittens are born; sometimes they even attack the kittens. I went out a few times and told those visiting cats to go home.

Around midnight on Saturday night I heard cat battle cries. I went outside. Serena was not visible--snug in the nest she and Traveller built for themselves by pulling layers of fabric down over storage bins on the porch, I guessed. The other resident cats, Samantha and Traveller, and the occasional visitor Burr, were all glowering at someone up in the hedge. Another cat? Burr disapproved of Serena's sneaking out with the father of her kittens? Or was it a predator? Oh goodheavens, what was that on the step? Why, it was a newborn kitten--large, but still attached to the placenta, which it was trying pathetically to drag about. It looked just like the occasional visitor Tickle, who is Serena's first cousin once removed. Had it come out of Serena? It was big enough to be hers all right.

Risking wounds, I stuck my hand into Serena's nest. She was there all right. She was still round and slightly lumpy to the touch. She was purring, wrapping her big fluffy body around a tiny fluffball. Right. I turned back to the kitten on the step, which had slumped down beside its placenta. Figuring it couldn't possibly survive breaking its own umbilical cord, I fetched a pair of scissors and snipped. The kitten snuggled into my hand. I reached back into the nest. Serena sniffed it over and began licking its damp, thin coat as if she were willing to rear it after all. The other cat in the hedge yowled. Burr yowled louder.

"Burr," I said, "can you guys take your disagreement somewhere else? I'd like to get some sleep tonight."

Burr is nobody's pet, so his intelligence and good will continue to surprise me. He advanced on the hedge, yowling, "You heard what the human said! Get on down the road!" and the other cat apparently obeyed.

Sunday morning was still warm, though rainy, and Serena purred and invited me to look at the four tiny kittens in her nest. The big one who looked like Tickle had been cleaned and dried, but he (very obviously a he) was dead anyway. The four little ones, with their slim builds, long stringy tails, and tiny pink paws, looked as if none of them could possibly be Burr's and Serena's. Maybe they were Tickle's and Serena's, by the look of them. They were basically white kittens with black and grey spots, like Burr--but Burr and Serena would have had Manx-looking kittens, which these were not. They'd been groomed and fed all night, but their neatly trimmed umbilical cords hadn't even started to shrivel.

So, Serena found another mate, not her father or cousin? Nice. Then I took a good look at Serena.

She did not have the hollow, damp-flanked look of a cat who'd just given birth to kittens of her own. She was as round, slightly lumpy, fluffy, and dry as ever.

Cats don't always give birth to all of their kittens at once. Social cats, who rear kittens communally, can get into trouble by trying to nurse someone else's kittens before their own are due; Tickle's mother Heather lost her first litter that way. The lactation cycle terminates the pregnancy. The offspring of the too-kind mother cat come out before they're able even to drink milk on their own. They can be born alive, and the mother does her best for them, but they don't live long.

But there was nothing premature about the kitten with the placenta. It was almost twice the size of any of the tiny living kittens.

Cats seem to have at least some voluntary control of the birth process. Serena wouldn't be the first cat I'd seen give birth to multiple kittens on different days. Both mothers and kittens can survive that way, sometimes.

Later I went out and saw a cat who looked just like the four little fluffballs, dead, beside the road. Nobody I know has admitted having any idea where that cat came from. It was a long, lean, black-and-white cat with a long tail, apparently both hit by a car and gnawn by predators. It could have been the father of Serena's kittens.

It could have been the mother of kittens someone could have brought to Serena--but who? If it had been dumped near the Cat Sanctuary while giving birth, why wouldn't it have stayed with its own kittens? If its humans had delivered the kittens to the Cat Sanctuary, why hadn't they spoken to me about it, and how had the kittens got into Serena's little private den? Neither Burr nor Tickle is a normal tomcat, but would any tomcat, however social and intelligent, rescue a dead or dying cat's kitten--or kittens--and deliver them to a different mother cat?

Hearing that an invasive neighbor had stolen some cats from another local Cat Sanctuary (claiming they were "starving" while the human in charge was ill), and sent them to a Humane Society shelter, I'd indignantly told someone, "They should at least have brought those cats to me, rather than kill them!" I meant it. But people need to know that the way to bring animals to any kind of sanctuary, or even shelter, is to ask the human(s) in charge first; they might need to clear out a cage and bring in extra food; they might direct you to take the animals to a different location for foster care, or even directly to their Fur-Ever Home if they've had time to consult a prospective adopter. Even at a Cat Sanctuary no one should ever just dump a cat and run.

Meh. It seemed most likely that the kittens Serena was nursing were her own. Sometimes cats' muscles feel lumpy the day after they've given birth. Serena hadn't bulged nearly as much as a smaller, thinner cat would have bulged. Maybe she'd just done a better job of cleaning herself up, early Sunday morning, than a less resourceful and queenly cat could have done.

By Sunday night Serena was careful to wrap the curtains around her entrance to her nest; it was getting chilly. I asked her again if she'd consider moving back into the nest box of her kittenhood. She was in a mellower, more cuddly mood than she's been in since her eyes opened, and even snuggled a bit, but she didn't want to be indoors.

She wouldn't be the first cat I've seen express resentment of a human's trying to force her to do something in the interests of her kittens. Heather very deliberately refused to feed one litter; I've seen mother cats kill and eat their own kittens, too, if rearing them got to be too frustrating.

"You want to lie around and keep them warm day and night, do you?" I said, having no positive ideas what else could be done for the kittens.

"Of course! How not? Silly human. Feed me now so I can get back to them," Serena commanded, pointing to where the kibble was stored.

Monday was sunny and chilly. "Is she going to have kittens in March?" someone wondered, watching Serena come out for a meal. She still looked pregnant.

She still does. Monday night, Tuesday, Wednesday, and today have been freezing cold. Serena's hardly left the nest, but when she does, she still looks as pregnant as she did last week. At no time has she had that "waters-have-broken" look. She has consistently managed to look like a happy, devoted mother cat, and like a pregnant cat, at the same time.

Yes, I do know that this mystery would be easily solved if I just scooped up Serena and the kittens, stuffed them into the nest box, and watched further developments in the office room. I also know that the care of kittens is not a topic on which I care to lock horns with Serena. Some new mothers of their first litter would consider human opinions about what they ought to do. Serena is not that kind. She's a sweet, gentle pet, even affectionate in her way, but she has her own opinions and no noticeable fear of anything or anybody. Her kittens will be brought up her way or not at all.

By this time next week, the natural course of events should provide some further information as to which...kittens brought up Serena's way, or not at all.



And this is what Amazon suggested for a book to go with the thought "cat mystery"? Hah. If I knew that a human had sneaked into the Cat Sanctuary's yard and interfered with any cat's pregnancy, even the ever-so-capable Serena's, to this extent...

If you have to give up a cat, or kittens--even newborn kittens from a fatally injured mother--a (real) Cat Sanctuary, a rural place where animals can live somewhat natural lives, is a better place than a Humane Society sort of shelter where they're locked in cages in a warehouse while they wait to be sterilized or killed. But wherever you go, always  ask first!