Feral cats get second chance in the Fredericksburg area through the efforts of the Rappahannock Humane Society. By By Carol Thomas Horton.

Date published: 3/5/2005

THEY LIVE in junk cars and abandoned buildings. They eat out of Dumpsters and drink from sewer pipes. They are scorned, shot at and exposed to the ravages of disease.

But they are not the victims of terrorist attacks or tsunamis. Stray cats are the victims of humans, who adopt and breed them as pets, then turn them out into the streets to die.

Thousands of feral cats struggle to survive each day in the Fredericksburg area. For them, there is no refuge camp, no army of rescue workers and no worldwide collection of life-saving funds. Only a handful of steadfast volunteers like Thea Verdak and Meghan Parker.

"A lot of people call to report stray cats, but they don't want to sponsor them," said Verdak, 56, president and founder of the Rappahannock Humane Society, an organization that has rescued hundreds of feral cats and relocated them to homes and farms.

"Many people feed the cats, but they don't want to spay and neuter them," she said.

Verdak and her 21-year-old assistant, Meghan Parker, begin and end each day with a feeding schedule. They drive from restaurants to schools, and from colleges to landfills--all common dumping grounds for unwanted pets. Fancy Feast and Cat Chow fill the dishes. Warm water splashes into the bowls.

The noise brings a scurry of activity. Tails pop up from behind boxes. Noses twitch from around corners. And when hunger finally overtakes fear, a dozen or more felines race for the food and chow down--one eye on their meal and one eye on their feeders.

Yet providing dinner is not the primary objective of the Rappahannock Humane Society. Its goal is to spay, neuter and relocate stray cats to safety.

"Lots of people see us trapping and feeding the cats and they want us to go away," said Verdak, whose long days often end after dark. "They don't understand what we are doing. They think trapping the cats is cruel."

Henri, however, would have died a gruesome death without trapping. His unspayed mother was dumped behind a restaurant on State Route 3 in Spotsylvania County, where he was born. Although she nursed Henri's tiny body and groomed his snow-white fur, his mother had no control over the bacteria and viruses crawling inside the Dumpster where she fed.

Date published: 3/5/2005