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Authors: Bonham Richards

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BOOK: World without Cats
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Jane laughed. “What’s the Federal Com … oh … FCC is Feral Cat Coalition.”

“Sorry. Members just call it the FCC. Anyway, when the cats recovered from the operation, they’d be released in the area where they were captured.

“There are chapters in the USA and in Canada—other countries too. I’ll bet members would do anything they could to help beat FHF. Let me look into it.”

“Anneke, that’s great! I’ll tell Vera as soon as she rejoins the human race.”

Anneke chuckled. “You mean giving birth makes a woman inhuman? That sounds like something a man might say.”

 

Vera’s labor lasted seven hours. By day’s end, she and Noah were the parents of a healthy six-pound-three-ounce baby girl named Lilith. Noah kept moving about the bed snapping mother-and-child pictures. “Will you stop that?” cried Vera. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Noah put the phone in his pocket. “Years from now, you’ll treasure those photos,” Noah protested.

Vera nodded. “Yeah, I guess I will.” She stroked Lilith’s tiny cheek. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“You’re both beautiful. I think this may be the happiest day of my life.”

Vera took his hand. “Me too. I love you both so much.”

They remained thus, utterly at peace for a time as Lilith took her nourishment.

Later, after the nurse had taken the infant, Vera told Noah about Dorothy’s pledge of funds for the microsurgery equipment. “Now we have to locate some cats. That’s apt to be the biggest hurdle of all.”

“You’ve just given birth to our child, and all you have on your mind are the damned cats?”

Without humor, Vera looked him in the eye. “Lilith is not a problem. The extinction of domestic cats is unthinkable.”

 

 

As spring pushed winter out of the way, sparrows, wrens, finches, and other migratory birds returned to their summer quarters. In cities all over North America, men, women, and children had to cope with huge flocks. Nora Saunders of Boise, Idaho, loved the melodious call of the swarms of finches. But soon, the cacophonous chatter of sparrows in the thousands drowned out the finches.

It wasn’t long before birds became a nuisance—and then a menace. Sparrows, starlings, and finches nested everywhere, as did other species. Using a broom, Sam Landesman removed the twenty or so nests from under the eaves of his home in Newark. A few days later, they had been rebuilt. He counted at least ten different types of avians, several of which he didn’t recognize.

 

Of course, trees were another favorite nesting venue. Beth and Lonnie Rodman could only manage five hours of sleep a night as the feathered creatures fought into the late hours over prime nesting sites. The noise was intolerable to the Wisconsin couple. They tried earplugs, white noise generators, pillows—nothing helped.

 

In Chattanooga, Ed Mason, a man who had always had an affinity for wild birds, was awakened in the middle of the night by a noise in his attic. Carrying a flashlight, he climbed up, opened the hatch, and beamed the light in. Suddenly, there was a flurry of wings and feathers and screeching. Ed quickly closed the wood panel.
What the hell is going on?
He brushed feathers and dust from his pajamas and hair.
Reminds me of that old Hitchcock movie,
The Birds
.
He could still hear the fluttering and screeching noises from the attic.
Jeez, I hope those damn birds don’t start attacking people like in the movie.
The next day, he phoned a pest-control company. He was told that, owing to huge demand, he’d have to wait a week before they could send someone out. Ed moved to a hotel in town for the duration. When the exterminator finally came, he said that all over town, wherever attic vent openings weren’t properly screened, birds were getting in and building nests.

 

Rob Lichtman, violinist with the Santa Rosa Chamber Ensemble, was now in his seventh year of AIDS. The newest antiviral cocktail had proved to be a miracle drug for patients infected with HIV. While his partner, Zane, folded laundry in the dining room of their home in the Northern California town, Rob practiced his bowing for an upcoming performance of Beethoven’s third string quartet. All at once he gave out a guttural sound, fell to the floor, and began writhing uncontrollably.

“Robby! Robby!” cried Zane. He knelt and cupped Rob’s head in his hands. He grabbed a towel from the table and forced it between Rob’s teeth; he then dialed 911. When the EMTs arrived, they checked for vitals and transported Rob and Zane to the hospital. Later, the attending physician told the frightened Zane that he’d been encountering more and more cases of relatively rare bird-transmitted diseases such as psittacosis and cryptococcosis.

“Has Mr. Lichtman been diagnosed with AIDS, or is he under radiation treatment for cancer?” asked the doctor.

“Why, yes,” replied Zane. “Robby has AIDS. But it’s under control with vironixal.”

The doctor nodded. “I’m pretty certain Rob has a case of cryptococcosis. We’ll know for sure after the lab work. It’s a fungal disease that we find mostly in patients whose immune systems have been compromised. The fungus, actually a yeast, attacks the brain.”

“Oh my gosh!” Zane cried.

The physician put his hands on Zane’s shoulders. “With treatment, Rob will probably come out of this just fine.” He explained, “This isn’t an isolated case. The fungus is found in bird droppings, and, as you know, this is a big problem everywhere. We’re seeing epidemics of avian-transmitted diseases in major cities like Milwaukee, Providence, Portland, Knoxville and many others.”

 

 

23
 

June 2021

                         10,250,000

 

 

Jane arrived, just as a nurse was taking Lilith from Vera after a feeding. “Wait,” said Jane. “May I see the baby?”

“Why, of course,” answered the nurse, uncovering Lilith’s face.

“She’s got Dr. Chamberlin’s dark hair,” Jane noted good-naturedly, “but your face, Vera.”

“Yes, she’s got the Barnett high cheekbones. With the black hair, she looks Asian, doesn’t she?”

“Uh huh, I see that. Are you sure Noah’s the father?” Jane teased.

“Keep that up, and you’ll be out of a job,” Vera responded with humor.

“Where’s Dr. Chamberlin?”

“He went out for a bite in the hospital cafeteria.”

Jane pulled up a chair by the bed. “Do you remember Anneke Weiss, the computer science major? She was involved with those demonstrations against Dr. Chamberlin’s research a couple of years ago.”

“Of course I do,” Vera answered. “How could I forget her? Why?”

“I had lunch with her today and told her of your idea to locate feral cats. It turns out that Anneke is a member of a feral-cat rescue group. She’s going to try to get such groups to help with locating cats.”

“That’s wonderful, Jane, just wonderful! Thank you so much. And please thank Anneke for me. I was aware of the feral-cat organizations and was planning to contact some of them after Lilith was born. Of course, we’ll be looking for cats that haven’t had human contact or association with domestic cats.”

“Yes, I discussed that with Anneke. She understands and will emphasize the fact when she contacts the members. When you’re up to it, Anneke wants to talk with you about how to proceed further.”

 

For her part, Anneke sent e-mails to feral-cat activists on her mailing list, one hundred twenty-three in all. She explained the new strategy and wrote that the scientists sought feral cats that had never had contact FHF virus. Anneke suggested looking for cat colonies in out-of-the-way places, away from human habitations. She made it clear that no one was to approach the cats, let alone try to capture them. It was essential that the animals not have any exposure to FHF.

The next day, replies were arriving in Anneke’s inbox by the hundreds. She read each one and prepared a table that listed locations, number of cats in the colony, and any remarks offered by the sender.

Her mail described feral-cat colonies all over the planet. Some flourished on farmland in the central United States and Canada, some on islands in the Great Lakes. There were ferals throughout Australia and on many of its islands. Others nested in the foothills of the Alps, on uninhabited islands in the Pacific, on Catalina Island off the Southern California coast, and on the fringes of the Gobi Desert. Many of the communications mentioned feral-cat populations that clearly had had human or other feline contact, such as the wild cats inhabiting the London Dockyards in the UK. However, most of those populations had already succumbed to FHF. Anneke did not include the survivors in her catalog, because the cats were likely already infected with the virus. Not all of the e-mail was supportive. A man in Toronto knew of several feral-cat colonies in rural areas of Ontario but had no intention of telling the world where they were. He didn’t want to have them exposed to FHF.

 

“I’d like to hire a nanny,” Vera declared. “I’ve got to get started locating cats for our test. I need someone to take on as much of Lilith’s care as possible.”

“I’ll be here,” said Noah. “Not to worry.”

“No, I want to hire a nanny, Noah. We can afford it.”

Doris, a nanny-cum-housekeeper, arrived a few days later.
Finally, I can relax,
Vera thought.
Jane’s looking after the clinic business. Kal can handle any emergencies …

I’m going to take a nap,” she said to Doris.

“You go right ahead, ma’am; Lilith will be fine.”

 

Vera was awakened by the ring of her phone; it was Jane informing the vet that Anneke wanted to discuss her search for feral cat populations. “Sure, tell her to come over,” Vera replied. “I want to keep the momentum. Every day, more cats are dying.”

Anneke arrived late that afternoon and showed Vera the list she had compiled, now displaying 237 annotated entries. “That’s just wonderful!” cried the vet.

Lilith was so startled by the outburst that she separated herself from her source of nourishment and began to cry loudly. “Oops,” Vera said. “I guess I need to keep my emotions under control.” She quickly quieted the infant, and Lilith resumed nursing. The two women went over the list and highlighted the most promising colonies. Vera shook her head with concern. “Now we have to find a way to capture cats without contaminating them, and we need to set up a lab where we can house cats and perform the surgery. I don’t see how we’re going to accomplish all that.” She put her head in her hands. “And the money. My God! This is going to cost a fortune.”

“You know, don’t you,” offered Anneke, “there are thousands of people who would contribute money to bring the cats back.” Vera raised her head and stared open-mouthed at the young woman. “That’s right,” continued Anneke, “there are already several charities collecting donations for cats. Perhaps you could start one too.”

Vera rose, set Lilith down and hugged Anneke. “You are so helpful, I …”

Money … it’s always about money.
She phoned her accountant who, when he learned of the new baby, agreed to come out to the house that evening.

 

Lyle Kane, rosy-cheeked and plump, toted a laptop in one hand and an attaché case in the other. Vera welcomed him in.

“I’ve got Form 1023 right here,” said Kane. “I’ll enter the information while we talk. By the time I leave, it’ll be ready to print out. Let’s start with the name of the charity. What do you want to call it?”

Vera pondered a moment. “How about ‘Feline Phoenix’?”

Kane nodded. “Sounds good. It’s easy on the ear. But the phoenix is a bird, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s a symbol of resurrection. It’s appropriate.”

“So be it. Feline Phoenix it is.”

“You’ll need a board of directors. Have you given that any thought?”

Vera shook her head. “Oh, heavens! I really don’t want to be bothered with that stuff.”

“Look, Vera, that’s part of the process of establishing a nonprofit. Can’t you get some of your friends involved? Then you can get them to prepare bylaws and choose officers. Think about it. If there weren’t standards, anyone could declare themselves a tax-free corporation. Fraud would be rampant.”

“Yes, I guess you’re right.”

“Will Feline Phoenix pass funds or services to any other organizations?”

Vera shrugged. “What kind of organizations?”

“Other charities, vet schools … think a moment.”

“Oh. I could do that?”

“Sure,” Kane replied, “as long as such organizations advance your stated purpose.”

“Even an entity of the federal government?”

Kane frowned. “For example …”

“Don’t laugh,” Vera replied, “but I was thinking the CDC, should they get involved.”

It took Kane only an hour to gather the information. “I’ll have my secretary prepare the necessary papers. You should be good to go by Thursday.”

BOOK: World without Cats
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