Written by Megan Whittington – @fivepeasinapodsa
Photos by Megan Whittington and Nicole Smith
Parker was born into a feral colony at The Pavilion Shopping Centre around the 26th of February 2020. Strangely enough, I was born just a few hundred metres away at the Westville Hospital. It seems as if our paths were always meant to collide.
I’ve loved cats since as far back as I could remember and have always had an extra-special fondness for calicoes. Before my older sister passed away, she had the most stunning calico cat called Callie. Callie used to sit on her shoulders and was my sister’s pride and joy – I couldn’t wait to have my own special calico cat! In 2019, my wish was fulfilled when I adopted Paisley with my partner, Nicole Smith. This was my first introduction to the rescue world, and little did I know I’d soon be fully immersed in it.
A mere year later, we had three of our own cats and had fostered countless kittens. Just one more, I thought. Four was a nice round number. Another calico, long-haired this time like our old family cat, Shumba, would be perfect. It was kitten season, and I put the word out that should any kittens fitting the bill be found, they could come to me. I even went on a few trapping stakeouts myself – a new and extremely rewarding experience.
Alas, it seemed like it wasn’t meant to be, and I ended up seeing a kitten on Facebook with the saddest eyes ever. A slightly older feral kitten, Princeton, as we were to name him, was in Pretoria, and the connection was instant. Nicole, who was in Joburg at the time, managed to get him into her care just before the first lockdown. We soon noticed that he wasn’t like other cats. He was a little slower and also very sickly. We were so glad we had him! But, this isn’t his story…
Just a few days later, I got the message. A feisty little fluffy calico had been trapped along with the rest of her litter. Nicole and Princeton were in Joburg, and I just had one little foster kitten with me in Durban, so I offered to foster her. I got the heads up that the people who’d spotted them were going to adopt one of the kittens, and this pretty little calico seemed like the obvious choice. No problem, I thought, I already have my fourth cat. I love working with feral kittens, so I’ll just help this little one on to her forever home.
Within a day, this tiny bundle of fluff and fire was in my care. She had snuffles, and although she was only about seven weeks old, she was the fieriest little feral I’d seen in my year of rescue work. She launched herself to attack my hands whenever I tried to handle her. She had an unbelievably defiant look in her eyes, and her intelligence allowed her to stay two steps ahead of me. I named her Karma, hoping it would bring some positivity into her outlook on this new life.
What ultimately worked with her was the hoodie method. I put a hoodie on backwards and stuck her in the hood, carrying her around with me at all times. I got to work on her coat, which was in awful condition, and we bonded over daily grooming sessions. When that first purr came, it was like rain after a hot day. Feelings of relief, joy, and contentment washed over me. The purr meant she was going to have a chance at a great life. She was going to be loved and accept that love. There’s no better feeling than that breakthrough moment when working with a particularly stubborn feral kitten.
Our days together changed from fear to fun as we played, cuddled, and explored. Her eyes were filled with curiosity and excitement. She was ready for her forever. Only, as it turned out, the people who’d found the litter had just adopted one of Karma’s brothers. And the other family I had in mind had just adopted another kitten too… Could this perhaps be fate playing its hand? Or maybe even Karma?
For the next few days, I struggled with what to do. We’d just adopted a beautiful kitten. Karma was pretty and fluffy and would find a home easily. Would it be selfish of us to keep two beautiful kittens?
But ultimately, looking into her eyes, I knew that I’d always regret not keeping her if she were to be adopted by another family. She was her true self with me. It was so much more than her colour and coat; it was her essence and the way she mirrored me. I felt a special bond; she was staying.
We renamed her Parker – all our cats have names starting with “P” – and it suits her to a tee. As the months went by, and Princeton was able to travel down and join us, Parker just bloomed.
Today, she’s her true self only with me and Nicole. She purrs loudly and boldly, jumps onto our legs for head strokes, and enjoys kisses and cuddles. She remains suspicious of all other humans and just tolerates the other cats. She’s a complicated cat, but she’s happy and so loved. Karma definitely worked her magic.
