OK, cat people, I ... well actually we, i.e. Mother, the cats, and I, need
some guidance from the best cat thinkers on the planet.  I somehow feel this
is the moment to say "your mission, should you choose to accept it........"
because the situation is rather daunting, taking on aspects of *Mission
Impossible.*
   I'll begin by telling the whole story, since neither of us were doing
anything else anyway;-)
   About 3+ years ago, my 90 year old Mother opened the kitchen door to let
Rattler, our 15 year old arthritic dog, out to answer the call of nature.
She found a cat huddled against the door, trying to keep warm.  We had 14
inches of snow at the time, and the temperature was well below freezing.
Feeling sorry for the poor creature, she set out a can of tuna for it.  The
cat survived and was named Bootsie by Mother (you have to be a regular to
earn a name).  The following Spring, Bootsie rewarded us by having two
kittens, White Stocking, a Tom, and Miss Kitty.
   Along in there, somewhere, Mother happened to read the life expectancy
of feral cats was about 3 years.  Mother is a cat person in good standing,
however, and it really is a very large HOWEVER, I am terribly allergic to
cats.  I can't exactly say I have gone into anaphylactic shock because of
them, but once the doctor gave me a shot of adrenalin to keep me going.
Naturally, cats love me and will curl up on my coat for a nap, to the
exclusion of anywhere else, at any opportunity.  Accordingly, Mother has
never been able to have a cat for a pet and I must always be mindful of my
contacts with them.  That means washing my hands immediately after petting
one and never letting one get in my lap--unless I intend to change clothes
soon.  Cleaning and vacuuming a place where a cat has been on a regular
basis doesn't work, as, while I was away at school, Mother had a cat which
slept on a day bed.  Knowing of my allergy, she dilligently cleaned the area
for me to sleep there, upon my return from school.  Took about 20 minutes
before I was struggling to breath.  More's the pity as I really do think
cats are neat, but, for me, it's about like playing with a live grenade.
   Back to the cats.  Anyway, to give the feral cats a better chance at
survival, Mother started putting food out for them.  To help them survive
the Winter, I built *kitty condo's* for them by cutting openings in ice
chests and placing them in sheltered places around the outside of our house.
In case you're interested, I also got a car battery warmer which, placed
under a pan of water, kept our cats supplied with fresh water through the
cold.  At one time, we were going through 18 pounds of Meow mix every 10
days, such was the popularity of Mother's Kitty station.  Mother doted on
the cats, as you might expect, and regular visitors to our back yard would
get a name.  We had Big Gray, Tough Guy, Yellow Boy. Ring Tail, Little Gray,
Tabby Cat, Hobo Cat, and several others who would show up, as well as our
resident Bootsie, White Stocking, and Miss Kitty.
   Everybody's gone now, except for Bootsie, White Stocking, and Miss
Kitty, poisoned by our neighbor next door.  While we were having a new roof
put on our house, I happened to walk up my neighbor's drive to see how the
work was going.  I chanced to look down and discover two cans of cat food,
afloat with antifreeze.  As I had watched Hobo Cat die 3 days before, I was
not pleased and canceled a business deal with the sumbitch.  I also reported
it to the police, only to discover they could care less.
   Since then, the neighbor and I have been warring back and forth, he
calls the police to complain, I make him get his stuff off my property, etc.
I'm ahead in the count, incidentally, as I have put up two bird feeders and
a birdbath beside his driveway.  The first bird feeder I put up was
stolen...the police are completely baffled.  Anyway, birds come and feed,
then fly into his trees, or perch on the wires over his beloved vehicles;-)
I have an ace up my sleeve, his fence is a foot onto our property and, come
Winter--'bout Christmas time--I shall have my lawyer demand he move it.
Mother says I make a bad enemy.  In some cases, I'm inspired.
   Bootsie, White Stocking, and Miss Kitty, are tamed to the point they
will come, when I whistle to announce I have a treat of canned food for
them.  Depending on their attitude at the moment, they will either remain
aloof and stay a few feet away (who would have thought) or, in the
alternative, come rub against my legs and--lately--actually seem to seek
attention/petting.  Haven't heard anybody purr yet.  White Stocking can't
seem to decide whether and how much he wants  to be petted--or when, for
that matter.  Bootsie doesn't always show up when I whistle, but, when she
does, she's quite social.  Miss Kitty hangs with White Stocking and follows
his lead.  Sometimes she'll hang back with him, but, when she does come
near, she seems to revel at the human touch.  Today, White Stocking rolled
over on his back and seemed to like having his stomach scratched.
   I did manage to get enough official attention that the bastards have
apparently stopped poisioning the cars, but now they are trapping them.
I've retrieved White Stocking and Bootsie from the local animal shelter.
And, my supposition is that one trip through that experience is enough for
them.  My concern is, if he manages to trap one on the weekend, when the
shelter is closed, he drives off with it and we never see it again.
   Meanwhile, our cats discovered the doggie door--we may have to rename
that--in the kitchen, and come to visit every night.  They are becoming more
bold in their explorations of the house and Mother puts canned food out for
them every night.  They go through about 2 cans and, on one occasion, Miss
Kitty brought all 3 of the kittens (her two and Bootsie's one) into the
house.  Mother, incidentally, is house bound and has her bed downstairs.
Miss Kitty allowed the kittens to have the run of the downstairs for about
an hour, while she sat in the kitchen doorway and Mother sat up in bed,
watching the whole affair.  From time to time, Mother and Miss Kitty would
make eye contact.  My supposition about it is that she brought the kittens
in for show and tell, sort of like introducing them to the rest of the
pride...but what do I know.  They haven't been back for a return visit, en
mass, but there have been  kitten sightings inside from time to time.  Most
recent was about 9 AM today, when the black kitten (Bootsie's) tried to come
in the door twice, but declined as Mother was in the kitchen at the time.
   That pretty well covers everything I can think of to bring you up to
speed on our situation.
   Now for the problem.  We've bought a new house to get away from the
%#&*(@/%## next door (talk about dedication to cats).  Anyway, Mother is now
very concerned about how we will go about moving *our* cats away from this
unhealthy environment to our new home--about 3 blocks away.  Remember, they
ain't exactly tame and they absolutely can't be house pets...not while I'm
alive, anyway, if I wish to remain alive, that is.
   Mother thinks the thing to do is take them up to the new place and shut
them in the garage, with food and water, in hopes they will acclimate  to
their new home.  I don't think it will work as all they will see is the
inside of the garage, and be off like a shot when we let them out.
   I think our best hope at pulling it off is to wait until Winter, then
provide *warm* shelter, food and water, at the new place.  In one sense,
time is on our side since we will be hanging on to our old house until the
Spring.  So, should they scoot back to their old home, I can haul them back
to the new place.  PROVIDING I can catch them...over and over and over.
   Killing the sumbitch next door, while an attractive notion, is not a
viable option (drat).
   So, anybody got any experience at this sort of thing (sure you do)?  In
the alternative, what's your best thinking/experience.
   Now, hasn't this been fun ;-)
   Cheers,
Jack B  *USA*
PS--  I'll be planting Mulberry trees next to his drive this Fall.