TNR Handbook - Neighborhood Cats

Foreword
The Neighborhood Cats TNR Handbook
“If we keep ‘em in a cage, at least they’ll be safe.”
This has been the reasoning of numerous well meaning cat
rescuers in the past. Surely the operative words here are
“at least” for we would have to admit that, for an animal or
a young child or any of us, a lot more than safety is
required if anything resembling a normal, healthy life is
our goal. Happily, there is a better way, a veritable winwin
situation. For feral cats, TNR (Trap-Neuter-Return) is
the answer.
My own concept of feral cats was limited by the
glimpses I had caught of them over the years. Pitiful, thin
creatures with runny eyes and weeping sores. Most of them were sick or lame,
scurrying along the alleys or underneath the cars parked at the curb. My heart broke
but what could I do if the cats wouldn’t even let me come close.
It was Bryan Kortis who explained TNR to me and showed me my first managed
feral cat colony. Late on a midwinter afternoon when the temperature was below
freezing with ice underfoot and a promise of more snow tomorrow, Bryan led me
through a maze of Upper West Side alleys and courtyards, around rows of garbage
cans and under rusty fire escapes. I had steeled my mind and emotions for the pitiful
sight I knew I was about to witness. Was I ever in for a surprise!
We rounded the last corner into a small courtyard. To my left the space was
enclosed by a three-foot stone wall topped by an enormous chain link fence. I
scarcely had time to turn to my right where four large Styrofoam boxes were held up
off the ground by stacks of bricks, because one second after we rounded that corner, a
series of furry bodies exploded out of those boxes, hit the pavement, streaked for the
fence, flew up, cleared the top, hit the ground running on the other side and
disappeared into the twilight of the alleys beyond. In the four or five seconds that
they had been visible, I had seen bright eyes, rich, thick furs, rippling muscles and a
feat of athletic prowess I had never imagined possible for a cat. My heart leapt for
joy.
“They’re beautiful,” I cried. “They’re healthy and clean and strong.”
“They’re a managed colony,” Bryan replied. He led me over to the Styrofoam
boxes. “These are insulated shelters. They cost about twenty-five dollars each. Stick
your hand inside. Don’t worry, the cats have all gone.”
I peeled the glove off my icy fingers and reached through the little round door in
the side. The box was like an oven!
Now, with this handbook, anyone can manage a feral colony. Everybody’s ferals
can be strong and happy and proud. The book is beautifully organized; the
instructions are crystal clear and logical.
May your path be as full of wonder and laughter as mine has been ever since that
winter evening when I discovered the intriguing world of feral cats.
Anitra Frazier (author, The New Natural Cat)
October, 2004
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