BY MORGAN FISCHER T he sun was slowly setting one September evening in the Green Gables neighborhood of central Phoenix as Wendy Morris popped the trunk of her silver PT Cruiser. One by one, she unloaded seven or eight long metal animal traps, the bottom of each lined with news- paper. Over the next few hours, Morris hoped to fill those traps with cats. This is a near-nightly ritual for Morris. Clad in gray cargo shorts, a maroon cropped tank top and Birkenstock sandals, she ventures out each evening, setting traps and waiting for stray cats to take the bait. The Valley’s urban landscape offers plenty of prey — too much, really — but Morris isn’t trolling neighborhoods like a small game hunter. She’s here to save the cats from themselves. A United Healthcare analyst by day, Morris has dedicated herself to attacking Phoenix’s stray cat problem. For two decades, she’s roamed old neighborhoods, trailer parks and business centers to keep the cat population from spiraling out of control. When a cat colony takes over a block, homeowners dial her number. Unlike a cat, Morris almost always comes when called. Morris is one of several intrepid indi- viduals — most of them women — who take it upon themselves to rein in the city’s stray cat population. They scour social media to find people in need of their services. Concerned residents track them down by word of mouth. When a cat colony balloons out of control, Morris and her counterparts are summoned like superheroes, ready to do what they can to stem the feline tide. These vigilantes are not grim reapers. Morris and others perform trap-neuter- release — Morris’ rear license plate reads “SPAYUM,” while a decorative plate on the front of her car says “TNR” — which essen- tially is population control by way of abduction. Night after night, Morris and her compatriots will scoop up as many strays as possible, take them to a veteri- narian to get spayed or neutered, and then return them to the area in which they were found. Sterilize enough cats in a colony, and eventually the colony dies out. These cat trappers don’t get rich doing this — in many cases, they lose money — but they’re in tremendously high demand. Morris’ schedule is packed full of trapping jobs at least a month in advance. To put it mildly, Phoenix’s stray cat problem is only getting worse. “We are absolutely in a cat crisis right now,” said Missy Pruitt, the founder of the cat education group The Arizona AdvoCATS. “This has been the worst year for cats.” Exact numbers are hard to nail down, but Pruitt guesses Maricopa County likely has about 500,000 to one million outdoor cats roaming its streets. In 2014, the Arizona Humane Society estimated that the county had only 250,000 outdoor cats. The problem is biological. “Cats just breed so efficiently,” said Stephanie Nichols-Young, the executive director of the Animal Defense League of Arizona, which has helped spay and neuter 170,000 cats since 2009. Cats can get pregnant when they’re as young as four months old and can deliver up to four litters per year, each consisting of four to six kittens. By the time a cat is two and a half years old, it can have birthed as many as 48 kittens. The problem also is human, Pruitt and others say. Too many people feed stray cats without bothering to get them fixed, resulting in more kittens and more cats in the colony. Unprepared pet owners abandon their kittens — un-spayed and un-neutered — putting more strays into the community. Eventually, the population crests to the point that Facebook and Nextdoor fill up with pleas for help. The cycle continues until — in a PT Cruiser with a “SPAYUM” license plate — help finally arrives. On a mission On this particular night in Green Gables, Morris had a goal: She and Linda Deuel, another volunteer cat trapper of 30 years, aimed to capture two kittens. Morris and Deuel approached a home they’d visited just a week earlier. The first time, they’d successfully trapped two kittens, but the homeowner had released them while Morris tried to find the kittens a foster home. Now, the duo was trying again. This location posed a challenge. The cat colony, consisting of about 30 unsterilized animals, had taken up residence on the property of a man who feeds them. But the man was uninterested in cooperating with Morris to get the cats spayed or neutered. Unfortunately, this isn’t uncommon. Some people harbor personal beliefs against fixing animals, feeling that doing so takes away a tomcat’s “manhood.” Others don’t want to shoulder the expense or, because the cats belong to nobody, don’t believe it’s their responsibility. Without sterilization, Morris said, a cat colony can go from 30 animals to a hundred quickly. Few live pleasant lives. Kittens often die at birth or have complica- tions. Alone on Phoenix’s streets, these kittens are left unvaccinated, uncared for and sick. They’re targets for predators such as coyotes. An indoor cat can live up to 20 years, but an outdoor cat may last only two or three. People are the main culprits in this cat repopulation loop, Deuel said. A home- owner may get a kitten for the family and “everything’s nice while the kitten is cute and little” until it grows up and the family doesn’t want it anymore. “It ends up outside, unfixed and having babies,” Deuel said. “That’s the biggest cause of cat overpopulation.” Cat colonies also can cause issues between neighbors. For every homeowner who is more than happy to feed all the kitties that come to the door, there are many more who can’t stand the sight of another stray. It’s often those residents who call trappers such as Morris and Deuel. The woman who summoned Morris to this home actually lived next door. An owner of two indoor cats, she was tired of finding cat poop and dead birds all over her property. Other Phoenix residents aren’t so cat-friendly, the women say — instead of calling a trapper, they From left to right, Wendy Morris, Carolyn Lavender and Linda Deuel transfer the two trapped kittens to crates. (Photo by Morgan Fischer) Meet the women tackling Phoenix’s stray feline problem. >> p 14
