Fostering feral kittens requires some patience and Gerber baby food chicken. I started the fostering process with a local non-profit. The big reward is to see the wild babies slowly decide to become domesticated, learning to trust humans for the first time. I find their progression fascinating, especially given that cats individually decide to become tame. Dogs want to be tamed, but according to the feral kitten experts, cats determine their fates for themselves. I’m less of a foster parent than a sales rep for the human race. Some kittens are an easier sell than others. The younger, the better of course, but helping them heal from their unexpected capture, a life of deprivation, and their instincts as both prey and predator takes some serious time commitment. I find that animals can sense all sorts of emotions, even ones that I may not be aware of in myself. Anyone who has participated in horse therapy knows that if you want to know how well you are, step into the ring with some therapy horses and watch. Their reactions mirror your emotions in a way that I find moving and eerie at the same time. Learn more here Equine Therapy for Human Trauma But as I am fostering these little ones, I am reminded of my healing development. Those of us who suffer from trauma need to study ourselves as carefully as I monitor these kittens. I had to learn my triggers and rhythms to help myself move away from feral behaviors. Animals are not the only ones with highly developed survival instincts. And just like the foster kittens, my innate survival responses can severely inhibit my healing. Foster Kitten Trauma Lesson 1: Basic needs come first. When fostering kittens, food comes first. From the first moment they come into my home, I make sure their little bellies are full of food. I can’t feed them too much at once, but I feed them up to five times a day. Often, they have tummies full of dirt and leaves, the go-to foods for starving babies. For some, a good meal is all it takes to convince them I am on the side of angels. For the majority, however, it is just a pre-requisite to socialization. They can’t even begin a relationship until they feel a little better. Radagast, my little 10-week kitten, shook while he ate. And he was so used to deprivation. He would only eat if I fed him on a spoon. He didn’t think the food in the bowl was for him. He hid behind the litter box and peered up at me. If I held out a spoon with food, he wolfed it down, afraid I would take it away. As a college instructor as well as a minister, I realize that if one of my students or clients do not have their basic needs met, we can accomplish nothing. This list includes food, sleep, shelter, and pain relief. I am no different. I require regular sleep, or I am good for nothing. I currently am the possessor of seven bulging discs. When my back goes out, or I get a headache, I get sidelined. Emotional pain has the same effect as physical pain. Children from food-insecure homes can’t learn. Children whose parents abuse them in any way are often stunted academically, mentally, or physically. If you are trying to heal, make sure you start with basic needs. Fostering Lesson 2: The mind and body operate together. I honestly thought for quite a long time that I could reason my way out of trauma. If I just took a good hard look at what happened, that would be enough heal. But just like my kittens, healing from trauma takes the participation of both body and mind. Most feral kitties have little or no experience with touch, particularly human touch. Mamas take care of their babies, but hunting means little ones are left alone. That only increases as they get older and become weaned. Human hands can terrify young cats, and I never initially approach them without some thick gloves. Even as I am writing this, Reepicheep is watching me. He is a little older- maybe twelve to fourteen weeks. Touch terrified him at first. Day three, and he will now eat directly from my fingers. To pet him, I use a Swiffer dowsed in cat calming pheromone. Today is the first day he relaxed enough to yawn in front of me. As I stroke him gently, tension is leaving his body, and the soft Swiffer is teaching his busy little feline mind that touch is pretty good. Maybe I will be able to stroke him with my hands in another day or so. We, humans, are no different. Healing from trauma requires that we intentionally relax our bodies. Taking tender care of our bodies translates into relearning how to feel good in the mind. Receiving genuine affection resets those neural pathways. One quick observation of this is that pets often do the same for us. I see people learn to receive love from animals before they can receive it from other humans. Fostering Lesson #3: The absence of good things is often harder to heal than the presence of the bad ones. Feral kittens do not know how to play. The metaphor, playful as a kitten, does not describe a young cat in the wild. They spend every waking moment searching for food or hiding from predators. I admit I was shocked when I first realized this. I had a basket full of kitten toys at the ready for my little wild charges. They had no interest in them. Instead, my small feral cats hunkered down behind their beds in their cages and watched me. They didn’t even spare a glance for the feather wand or the catnip-filled mouse. Enough food in their tummies, some serious bonding time, and socialization gives them the freedom to begin to play. And kittens pick it up quickly. I wish humans did, too. Some return to abusive relationships or addictive coping mechanisms over and over. Cycles are challenging to interrupt. If we don’t know what love feels like, then we don’t know it when we see it. We do not have the neural pathways that tell us what is good and what isn’t. The whole point of a happy childhood is to pass on the ability to give the next generation the tools for happiness. If all we have are blaming tools or anger, or addiction, or denial, then the pure lack of good things leaves no neural map to follow. We all have some level of trauma to contend with. But just as kittens can come through it with maybe just a few quirks, we can come through it without too many triggers. Of course, we take longer to heal, and our minds are more complicated. But just like the kittens, we can learn to feel safe. We can reorient ourselves to healthy interactions, and begin to draw a map that leads to joy. But just like feral kittens, we can’t do it without a little help. As an Amazon Affiliate, I receive a small commission off purchases at no cost to you. Surviving Mass Trauma