Ian,

They say that a cat born in the wild is impossible to tame or domesticate, whether they are bonafide wild cats, or from litters borne in the wild of a stray mother cat that once lived with humans. (I refuse to say "owned by people." Nobody "owns" a cat, if you catch my drift.) At any rate, the Mrs. and I have successfully domesticated three "wild" cats through the years. All three became very affectionate, docile, and laid back.

One poor soul was scavenging for a meal in our dustbin one evening. He was nothing but skin and bones, absolutely filthy, smelly, and extremely skittish in the presence of human people. (Cats are people, too.) He was a longhair, but you could still see his ribs. It was really heartbreaking to think of him out there in the night with no warm kitty bed to sleep on. (Yes, I'm soft when it comes to our animal friends.) We started leaving him a bowl of food outside on the doorstep. We'd watch through the window as he would creep out of the shrubs and scarf down the food. Soon, we were able to open the door a crack and speak to him while he enjoyed his meal. My wife started calling him Fergus (Fergie) because of his thick reddish fur.

Late one bitter cold night, we were awakend by the rattling of the metal mail flap on the door. My wife was convinced it was Fergie, trying to get our attention. I thought it was the wind. But, sure enough, I opened the door, and in he walked. Our two cat pals, Tigua and Jamie, were not at all pleased, so we let him stay in the foyer with the door closed to keep them separated. Next morning he was yowling to get let out. This went on for several months, and he was beginning to look much more heatlthy. He'd cleaned himself up, his coat was filling out, and he had this big, thick mane, rather like a Maine Coon. By this time, he was allowing me to pick him up and cuddle him, but only momentarily. Then, one night, he didn't appear. We were only a little concerned, and didn't give it much thought. Next morning, my wife woke me up, shouting for me to come and see Fergie. What a state he was in. The whole side of his face was bloody. He'd been outside the door when she went to bring in the milk. I gathered him up, put him in a transport kennel, and took him to our vet. The blood turned out to be from an abscess on the side of his face that had burst. The vet fixed him up, gave him all his shots, and refused to take payment from me. He offered to keep Fergie at his office until we could find him a good home, since our two boys would not stand for an intruder. The Cat Protection League found him a nice loving family who took him in. They were even considerate enough to call us up and offer to let us come see him after he'd settle in. What a magnificent boy he turned out to be! A beatiful, big red tom, just as laid back as he could be.

We don't really know if Fergie had been abandoned, or if he was actually born wild. We suspect the former, since this was in a U.S. Navy housing complex in Brechin, Scotland. Navy families were notorious for acquiring pets while they were there, and then leaving them behind when they transferred. But, this story goes to show that "wild" cats can be tamed. Hope this gives you the incentive to persevere. Best of luck. Happy Christmas.

Gusty