Phideaux', the 3-legged "free" kitten

“Some dogs are actually happier out here than they’d be in an apartment or a house.”

--Randy Grim, founder, Stray Rescue of St. Louis

I learned through bitter personal experience Randy Grim’s observation in “Travels With Casey” by Benoit Denizet-Lewis (review on “Be-Lied”) that some dogs (read that “pet” animals) are actually happier leading a feral lifestyle. When I was growing up, my mother refused to let us have pets. In those days, I longed for nothing greater than to leave home and adopt a basset hound! When my pet-adopting days began, I had no models for responsible pet adoption and ownership, and I learned many hard lessons during my education in responsible pet ownership. In those early days, I decided to adopt a kitten. Instead of going to a shelter where I would have to pay a fee, I answered a newspaper ad for “free kittens.”

When I got to the home, mother and kittens were in a small enclosure outside. Right then, I should have left kittenless. However, the common sense part of my brain did not kick in, and I left with a “free” kitten. I named the kitten “Phideaux’,” a Cajun rendering of “Fido,” with the accent on the second syllable. 

I kept Phideaux’ inside for days. He took up residence in whatever cranny he could find that allowed him to avoid my desperate attempts to bestow affection upon him. He never let me touch him if he could at all sidestep it. (With four paws, he was quite adept at “sidestepping.”) Finally, with much sighing and resignation, I let Phideaux’ outside, keeping food and water by the front door for him. He came every day and ate and hung out around the house. Effectively, he was feral when I adopted him and did his damnedest to remain feral.

One day, Phideaux’ did not come to eat. A few days passed, and of course, I worried. I feared I may never know what happened. Finally, Phideaux’ limped up dragging his left rear leg. He had gotten caught in an animal trap in the woods across the street.

I was very broke at the time but had access to the LSU Vet School. There, they amputated his leg and put him on antibiotics. Much to his chagrin, he had to stay inside long enough to finish his course of antibiotics and for the incision to heal. While I sorrowed over his lost leg, I hoped this trauma would cause him to bond with me, but sadly, I did not have a leg to stand on but he still had three!  Phideaux tolerated me taking care of him, but clearly he couldn’t wait to get back outside.

Meanwhile, I moved a few times and was always able to catch Phideaux’ and take him to my new abode. Finally, the time came to leave family housing in Hammond, Louisiana, for Carbondale, Illinois, to continue graduate studies. This time, Phideaux’ adamantly did not want to move. Finally, I caught him, but he managed to escape just as I loaded the last boxes to leave. On later visits, I heard that Phideaux’ was still hanging around the old apartment. At the end of one visit, I sat near the old apartment for hours, hoping to catch the wily feline and this time get him securely “home” to Carbondale. As I waited, a woman came by and refilled a cat food and a water bowl on the walk. She informed me that a nearby office had adopted “Jack.” On weekends, someone came by and put out food for him.

I sat for hours, but “Jack” never made an appearance. Finally, I acknowledged Phideaux’’s preference for feral living, living outside the box, and went to spend the night with friends before heading, Phideaux’-less, back to Carbondale.