Mati the Cat Trapper

Tuesday March 31

Four years ago my uncle Dave shared his plan with me for his will at my grandmother’s funeral. We bonded over our mutual love for cats, and he came up with an idea. He asked me if when his time came, I would take care of his cats, as well as inherit his house so they wouldn’t have to break their routine. My uncle was in good health back then and I agreed thinking he was a very kind and generous man, but Dave was also somewhat of a cat snob. He showed me pictures of his three Persian cats; Sophia, Rose, and Blanche. They were three goofy looking girls, each one was a different color; orange, black, and white. So, while I’ve known about his will for awhile now, it was still very surprising when I got the call early this morning from my aunt Mary, Dave’s sister, saying uncle Dave had suffered a heart attack during the night. She was sobbing on the phone, but said my uncle was serious about writing me into the will as the guardian of his now four cats; he had bought an Egyptian Mau last Christmas and named her Bastet. I asked my aunt who was taking care of the cats until I arrived and she said she would be going over there. She sent over all their vet records with specific instructions my uncle left behind for me including their feeding times, preferences, feeding locations, favorite toys, daily routines, and even how to take apart the electronic water fountain to clean it. Bastet was apparently very shy. The Golden Girls stayed primarily on the first floor while Bastet stayed on the second. There was also another responsibility never mentioned to me by anyone that was sort of snuck in there by my uncle. It described an outdoor cat colony of about a dozen cats he was feeding in the backyard.

I made the decision to break my lease and pack up what little I had of my life in Maine.

Monday April 6

I arrived last night. It was a mid century suburban home in the middle of Wisconsin that I now called home. I was greeted at the door by the three goofballs and fed them dinner. I did not see Bastet, but I still fed the location my uncle described. This morning I did the exact same thing except, well, I still hadn’t seen Bastet, but I noticed the food I put in her dish last night was gone. I went out the back door to look for this outdoor colony I read about and there were six cats waiting for me in the backyard. And when I walked around to the front there were another four. Some of the cats were kittens, so I knew if I didn’t do anything there would soon be a dozen more. I drove to a local coffee shop called The Nook and searched on my phone for ‘outdoor cat colonies’ and found someone operating locally named Mati “The Cat Trapper” although he looked more like a Swedish detective in his photos. Mati was a tall blonde man in a gold trench coat, brown plaid pants, and a white turtleneck. His demeanor and appearance was rather handsome, and his eyes had enthusiasm. There were several testimonies and videos of Mati trapping cats and even a certificate he earned for cat colony management. There was a listing for his services that started with “All cats are spayed/neutered and returned to field unless their behavior is assessed to be adoptable” and underneath it was a form to fill out requesting Trap/Neuter/Return. The first question asked how many cats I had seen in the colony with a description of them. I filled it out with everything I had seen this morning.

Three brown tigers

Four grey tabbies

Two white tabbies

And a siamese

Where did I see the cats.

Mainly in the backyard, by the trees, and some in the front yard. 

Who currently feeds them.

Nobody. My uncle was feeding them before he passed away last week.

I got a reply within the hour to select a Tuesday. I chose the soonest availability, tomorrow, and I received instructions on how to prepare on the night before the trapping. The main point was to not set out food for any of the cats and Mati would arrive at seven in the morning, trap the cats, and transport them to the clinic to be spayed and neutered, then they would then be returned later that day. 

I went to bed thinking that nobody would show up.

Tuesday April 8

It was ten minutes to seven am when a purple van pulled up to the house and parked on the street. The driver door flung open, and the same man from the website stepped onto the street, he was even dressed in the same gold trench coat and plaid pants from his photos. It was apparently too warm for the turtleneck. Mati took a few steps around to survey the area before he walked up the driveway, pushed back his hair, and reached his hand out to shake my hand but instead pointed down the side of the house.

“I see the siamese,” he said, excitedly. “I thought you were kidding about that one.”

I wanted to ask him why I would be kidding but he changed the topic and asked if there were any indoor cats he should look out for and I answered no, there were three Persians and an Egyptian Mau that were strictly indoor and Mati’s eyes lit up, “An Egyptian Mau?” He shook his head and refocused. “Who’s been feeding them since your uncle passed?”

“Nobody that I know of.”

“There’s always another feeder. I’ll walk over to your neighbors and see if they’re around.” He stuck his hands in his coat pockets and strolled down the road towards my new neighbors. I thought about going with, but instead I went inside to make us some coffee. Mati returned ten minutes later and took a cup. 

“What did you find out?” I asked.

“It’s not great,” he started saying while taking a big sip. “Two neighbors already fed them this morning.”

“I didn’t know there was anybody doing that.”

“There was even a bowl of dry food by the trees in your front lawn. You didn’t do that?”

“No.”

“Then someone was here last night. I convinced Mrs. Oaks to pick up the bowls so at least we have a chance. Good news is they agreed to let me set traps on their property. I think we’ll hit gold today I already see two cats watching us talk.”

Mati finished his coffee and unlatched the back door of his van revealing fifteen live traps. He picked up two and lined them with newspaper and with one each hand walked around the side of the house. He set and baited the ends with wet cat food and covered the top with a towel. He repeated this six times; he left two traps on the side, four in the backyard, two in the front, and four that were at Mrs. Oaks. I thought we would have to wait hours but it was less than fifteen minutes later Mati was loading two cats into the van. Then he scurried to the backyard and crouched behind some bushes, his eyes locked on two kittens sniffing around a trap. They tried reaching through the steel openings, but when that failed, circled around to the front and entered its jaws together. I couldn’t see the kittens after that. Mati was still crouched, immobile. He waited in this position for nearly five minutes until finally, snap. I stepped outside to see the kittens and Mati hoisted the trap up to show off his catch.

“Two kittens. They look friendly and clean, too. Got the siamese and a brown tiger before these guys.”

With four cats secured in the van, Mati came back inside for more coffee. “And you tried telling me there was nobody feeding them.”

“I didn’t know. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah, if you want to check next door. They’re around back by the door where she feeds them.”

A week ago I never imagined myself trespassing my neighbors lawn in Wisconsin to check on live traps for cats but I admit it was fun. Before I could get to the end of the lawn, the window slid up, and I was stopped by a squirrelly older woman with curlers in her hair. “Are you with Mati?” Mrs. Oaks asked.

“Yes, well, I’m your neighbor, too. I just moved in next door.”

“Oh, you’re David’s niece,” she said. “It’s a shame what happened. I saw your uncle just last week out in the yard feeding the cats. I’m so glad you’re doing something about them having more kittens, though. Mati explained everything. By the way, there’s a brown tabby in the trap back there. I was wondering if you could tell Mati I’d like to adopt him after he’s fixed.”

I was surprised, there were actually two cats waiting for me. When I got back to the van with the two traps, Mati had four new cats. I told him Mrs. Oaks seemed really nice and wanted to adopt the brown tabby. He examined the cat and gently handed it back to me.

“She called him a brown tabby?”

“Yes.”

“Nice Mrs. Oaks was trying to trick you.”

“How so?”

“You see those spots?”

“Yes.”

“She was hoping to inherit your uncle’s Egyptian Mau.”