Cowbell joined our home five years ago. She has always been a feral cat. At only a few weeks old, I took her from my sister's porch while she was eating a chipmunk. She didn't immediately adjust well to Mr. Nibbles or life indoors. She used to steal our dinner right off the plate, get stuck in Kleenex boxes, and jump from above the tallest cabinets. After several weeks she settled into her new home, and slept in our bed from that point onward.
Fastforward five years and four kids later and we simply do not have a place for Cowbell in our home. Our furniture and carpet upstairs has been destroyed. She constantly sought attention by smothering and clawing babies.
We kicked her and Mr. Nibbles out and officially made them outdoor cats last month. We still fed them daily. Cowbell constantly snuck back in the house and our vehicles. This unknowingly led to her ultimate eviction.
Last Thursday I picked Jackson up from preschool as usual. I immediately knew something wasn't right when I saw his face. He asked me to hold him and was acting whiny. As soon as I picked him up it was obvious he had pooped. When I sat him down in his carseat so I could grab the diaper bag, the most vile liquid seeped up his back and down his legs. At this point we were both covered in poop. While ushering him back into the school building, another teacher shrieked "Oh my God. A cat just came out of your van!" I glanced back to see Cowbell running through the parking lot, and impulsively exclaimed, "Nope. That's not mine." I stripped Jackson down and used half a pack of wipes to scrub him clean. A teacher found a 4T shirt and pants to drape on Jackson.
We left with one more outfit and one less cat.
Good luck and good riddance, Cowbell.