shoot strays with BB guns or run them over. It helps to have a homeowner’s coop- eration, but trappers aren’t always so fortunate. “We’ve been made crazy cat ladies because we have to sneak into people’s yards to feed a cat,” Pruitt said. “Or sneak onto an apartment complex to trap these cats that need TNR.” This particular night, Morris, Deuel and fellow volunteer trapper Carolyn Lavender were given an ultimatum by the homeowner who’d been feeding the strays. If they wanted to trap cats, they had to stay off his property to do it. And if they wanted them hungry, too bad. At 8 p.m., he told the women, he’d be feeding the cats dinner. How to catch a cat Morris, Deuel and Lavender huddled together, peering at a box trap from a distance. Slowly, a cat walked toward a cup of food placed in the far end of the trap. The cat entered the the trap. Then — CLANG! — a metal door snapped shut behind the animal, triggered by the addition of the cat’s weight. Deuel walked over, placed a blanket over the trap and peered into the trap to examine the cat’s ears. They were unclipped — strays who have been fixed and released as part of a TNR program have clipped ears — so Deuel quickly moved the trap toward Morris’ car as the cat howled and scratched. One down. Food is a motivator when trapping strays, which is why it’s tough to catch cats when someone has been feeding the colony. Full cats won’t go in the traps, but hungry cats will. When homeowners are cooperative, Morris and others tell them to stop feeding colonies for 24 hours before traps are set. The box traps don’t always work, though, and the women eventually changed tactics. They turned to a drop trap. This device is simple — it’s essen- tially a box, propped up on one end by a stick with a string tied to it. It’s also expensive. A single drop trap costs between $100 and $130, which these women pay for out of their own pockets. A second cat soon ventured over to sniff at an offering of food. Morris pulled the rope, yanking out the box’s support and dropping the trap over the cat. Rushing over, the women placed their weight on the drop trap, hoping to avoid a flailing claw to the ankle. Deuel brought over a smaller cage called a transfer trap, placing it near an opening in the first trap and beckoning the cat into the new trap with a flashlight. Two down. Soon, the trio had snagged a third, raising a dilemma. The neighbor who’d contacted Morris had agreed to pay for only three cats to be spayed or neutered. But there was still time on the clock, and three cats barely make a dent in a colony of 30. The women all had the same question. Should they go for more? Getting a cat fixed isn’t cheap. It costs between $45 to $80 to get the procedure done in the Valley, which is an increase from approximately $25 just a couple years ago. “I can’t tell you the amount of money I’ve spent on my own,” Morris said. Battling the wind and illuminated by a full moon glowing behind them, Morris and Lavender both said they’d pay for one more, committing $45 each. “You’re gonna be broke like I am,” joked the 71-year-old Deuel, who ended her retirement due to the costs of cat trapping. “I used to pay for it myself out of pocket, but it’s gotten so expensive, and I just can’t afford to do it.” A lack of resources In the world of cat trapping, high costs and a lack of resources are a constant problem. As Phoenix’s feline population increases — and as its population control relies more heavily on unpaid volunteers — cat trappers find themselves burned out, unsupported and financially unstable. The drain of resources, caused in part by COVID-19, also impacts area veterinarians. “There are less clinics now than there were,” said Bob “The Cat Man” Snow, an 89-year-old former trapper who now coor- dinates cat foster homes in the Valley. “There’s less opportunity for people to get trapped cats spay-neutered than there used to be.” Nonprofits such as the volunteer-run ADLA try to help. Since the early ’90s, the ADLA has connected trappers and home- owners through its Spay Neuter Hotline, although it now prefers that residents contact its office using an online form. Whether by phone or online, ADLA provides homeowners with traps, connects them with volunteers and sets up vet appointments, which cost a recommended donation of $25 to $45 per cat. Yet since the pandemic, ADLA also has felt the strain of diminishing resources. The organization used to coordinate the spaying and neutering of 10,000 cats a year, but that number has decreased to 8,000 cats. Trappers are hoping for city support. Earlier this month, Deuel formed a group that plans to request $1 million in funding from the Phoenix City Council to support TNR training, to help fund spay and neuter clinics, and to pay veterinarians. “If we don’t do it soon, it’s going to (need to) be 3 million,” Deuel said. Pruitt, who focuses on cat educa- tion, also has sought city support. She’s used her three minutes of public comment several times during council meetings to talk about Phoenix’s cat problem and ask the city for education funding. City council spokesperson Adam Walz said the council does not have an ordinance regarding stray cats nor does it provide funding for population control. Maricopa County Animal Control and Care doesn’t do much, either. MCACC “cannot pick up stray or feral cats or address those feeding cats in their neighborhood,” according to its website. Instead, the agency direct resi- dents to ADLA’s Spay Neuter Hotline and the Arizona Humane Society. Other Phoenix communities have relied on donations to fund their own TNR programs. Grand Canyon University has a club called TNR for GCU, whose members trap, neuter and release the cats that reside in colonies on the university’s campus. In August, the club started a Change.org petition that received more than 1,000 signatures to protest what it claimed was the university’s proposed plan to deprive the cats of food and water in an effort to eliminate pigeons, which eat food left out for the cats. That petition is now closed. Club presi- dent Chris Walker said there was a “miscommunication” on the school’s part and that GCU “(doesn’t) plan on hindering our operations as long as we comply with the rules they have for us.” GCU did not respond to a request for comment. In downtown Phoenix’s Garfield district, the neighborhood organization has formed a committee — dubbed the “Garfield TNR Cat Wranglers” — to help combat the feral cat population there. The group has received $1,000 in donations, which has gone toward the TNR of about 20 cats in the neighborhood, said resident Raleigh Dombek. Those efforts are great — but they’re hardly enough. “Right now, all we doing is Doris and Elliot, two kittens trapped by Wendy Morris, Linda Deuel and Carolyn Lavender, now live with Lavender while she tames and fosters them. (Photo by Morgan Fischer) Wendy Morris, Carolyn Lavender and Linda Deuel stand over a drop trap with a cat inside. (Photo by Morgan Fischer) Cat Ladies from p 13 >> p 16
