The PaKaHouse Cattery Blog

“Bobcat Love”

This is an article that I wrote for the Feline Conservation Federations Mar/Apr 2008 Issue:

Where do I begin? I can still feel the humming of my beater car through the seat as I drove down the endless highway. The wind was smashing through my window and burning my eyes. Of course, my air conditioner was broken. I had a slight ache in my eardrums because the music coming from my stereo system was trying to drown out the howling of the wind that was trying to cool me down. It was the longest trip I had ever taken, and yet the seventeen hour venture to N.O.A.H. Feline Conservation Center had a silver lining. It was only the start of what would become a life-long journey.

Two and a half years later, Kisa (pronounced key-shuh) sleeps on her wooden shelf in her 400 square foot enclosure, oblivious to the snow scattering around her. When I watch her resting peacefully like this, I often try to remember the similar, positive times of her growing up in our home. But most of the time I am consumed with laughter at the negative, yet hilarious moments we have had with her. If I walk away with one thing, at least it will be that when recalling past moments, the not so good times can always be laughed at later in life. For instance, when she was five months old and decided that the towel just used to clean some raw chicken was going to be hers. She strutted around the house dragging it between her legs, but the moment we would approach her to snatch it away, she would cry and growl as if to say “finders keepers”. Or the time Kisa tried scooping the fish out of our aquarium. We quickly learned that bobcats and aquariums don’t mix. Or maybe the numerous times Kisa greeted strangers by sneaking up behind them, springing up and whacking them in the head, and then running off. I remember when Kisa decided my mothers head was going to be her next victim. It just so happened that my mother was on a very important phone call. Or maybe the time Ksia concluded that standing on the balcony rail, reaching out across the foyer, and batting at the chandelier was great entertainment. Although at the moment her antics were a pain in our side, today I can chuckle while reminiscing about such times.

Kisa grew up just like any other household animal. In fact, she might have received more attention then the average pet. I live with my parents while attending college, so that made it slightly easier to raise her because the attention we gave her was dispersed from all of us: my mother, father, brother, sister and me. She had her times when she had full run of the house and times when she was put away for her “naps”. Of course, she hated those times and never slept a wink. On days I knew I was going to be away and no one else would be home to let her have some run-around time, she made a special trip to Aunt Suzy’s house, where she would get some extra love from her and her family, and romp around with the dogs and cats there. My Aunt Suzy had a special place in her heart for wild cats, and I appreciate every moment that she spent with her. I hope that she realizes how grateful I am for that.

One thing is certain: time flies. And here I am sitting outside her enclosure. Although the freezing wind is chilling me to the bone, I cannot help but be still and just soak up every moment I have to watch her. I get chills up and down my spine, not because of the bitter cold sweeping around me, but because of the thought that there are people out there this very instant trying to destroy animals like these. They are trying to destroy how great it feels to see Kisa whistle to me with excitement when I approach her, or how great the brush of her fur feels across my cheek.

What about the people that come to meet Kisa for the first time? For a person who has never before seen a wild cat up close, and run their fingers along her coat, that is the essence of what private conservationist should be striving for. In that brief moment of contact, that person is not only touching the fur of the wild cat, but is touching nature as a whole.

Have you ever thought that maybe it is the disconnection between people and nature that is causing the world to uproar? Perhaps we need to realize that those moments are very important and need to be cherished a little more. Without Kisa being able to share her life with me, those people would never know what it is like to hear and feel the vibration of a bobcat purr. They would never witness the devotion that I have towards her as her caretaker and be inspired to take their own step toward private conservation.

Every question that they ask is so important, just as every answer they receive. And ultimately, if Kisa was not here sharing her life with mine, then the honest questions that are being asked by these earnest people would not be getting their crucial answers. After all, why would I need to know the answers to these questions? I never need to know that even though bobcats are not an endangered species, their hardships in the wild are so tremendous that you wonder how they even survive. Take for instance the bobcats living in the far northern hemisphere. Battling the extremes of the bitter winter, they fight every second against the snow and ice to muster up enough energy to seek out and catch their prey for their daily survival. I never needed to know about the bobcats in the southern parts of our country, endlessly seeking out a drop of water to wet their tongue in the drought that is taking place. Or what about the species in general, continuously searching for undisturbed land to make their home, but never finding it because of our own growing population that is continuously degrading their habitat?

Before my bobcat came into my life, the answers to these questions were simply nonessential. But now, when people experience first-hand the charm of a wildcat and fire out their questions, I can rest knowing that my answers are not only the key to a great start in education, but as well as the beginnings of conservation as a whole. Whether we are educators, propagators, or simply private conservationists,. it is up to us to ensure that every species of these great cats continue to survive.

So how does one summarize two and a half years of life with a certain being? I believe that the answer is simple: you don’t. And as Kisa peacefully sleeps on her wooden shelf in her enclosure, I think of how futile it would be to try and compress all of those precious moments into one. For me, I can’t describe how thankful I am to have one day stumbled upon an old, tattered book with a short story of a little girl who had a pet ocelot, which sparked my interests, and has now led me to this point in my journey with such a magnificent animal. And do I say “led me to the END of my journey”? No, because the journey has just started.

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