Some people love babies. Some people love dinosaurs. I was born a cat person.
This was tragic, as my older brother “had a cat allergy.” For many years, I had to be content playing with my plush toys and ceramic figurines or befriending other people’s pets. My Aunt Penny’s calico Columbine was a favorite (she was named after the flower before 1999), as well as my friend Vanessa’s skittish Sissy. Still, I longed for a cat of my own.
When I was in middle school, my brother left Idaho for college, and my parents were out of excuses. We saw an ad in the newspaper for free kittens and went to the home of a certified Cat Lady. This little old woman fed all the neighborhood strays and let them birth litter after litter in the stacks of cardboard boxes in her garage. As we watched dozens of ferals skirmish for the handfuls of kibbles she tossed on the cement floor, I noticed a tiny tabby abandoned in a box, mewing pitifully, unable to join the frenzy (where she likely would have been killed). We took the doomed kitten home, discovering she was not only weak but injured, with an infected gash hidden under her chin. She healed well but was weaned too early and never became what you could call domestic. She was born into Lord of the Flies and never left the island psychologically.
I didn’t care. I finally had a kitty, and I loved her fiercely. (And don’t worry about my brother. He was “cured” of his “cat allergy” by the time he came home for holiday break. A Christmas miracle, I’m sure.) I hugged her, and she scratched me. I fed her, and she bit me. Decades later, I still carry scars on my hands from my violent, beloved Froggy Bee.
That’s the thing with cats. We love them, but they can make our lives difficult. Just now, as I sat down to write this, Andy (one my three indoor cats) raced around the house several times, leapt up into the shelves above my computer, looked me in the eye, and — as I shouted “NO NO STOP NO” — defiantly wedged his robust body between two plants, knocking a rabbit foot fern down onto my desk then darting into the other room. I had to scour dirt from my keyboard and re-pot the poor fern.
As any gardener knows, they can cause as much chaos in the yard as in the house. They will dig up your seedlings, muss up your flowers, and poop on your carrots. This is not just gross but potentially dangerous if the cat is carrying toxoplasmosis or other diseases. How can we stop them?
The question comes up regularly on NextDoor, Facebook groups, and gardening forums. It starts with people helpfully suggesting putting up chicken wire. It continues into a vitriolic debate about letting cats be outside at all. And it ends with someone insisting, foam-mouthed, that it’s FINE and, in fact, GOOD to slaughter your neighbor’s pet on your property and then throw its corpse at their front door to teach them to get a civilized pet, like a dog or an iguana, until a mod finally closes comments. Two months later, the whole ordeal repeats itself verbatim.
So it goes on the internet. Meanwhile, the alley cats keep defecating in your lovely kitchen garden. Let’s figure out how to stop them without starting a civil war online or on your street!
WHAT DOESN’T WORK
Everyone has some folk cure for pooping cats. Much of it is ineffective or excessive. Don’t waste your energy on these stinkers:
DIY sprays — Do cats dislike cloves, apple cider vinegar, lemons, cayenne, coffee or eucalyptus? Sure, some cats, sometimes. My big orange boy Vash will run from any room where you eat an orange. But my other two housecats fear no citrus. Still, in the past, I have tried to wield the power of scent to scare off small prowlers. I tried spraying vinegar and spiced water around the edges of my raised beds. The smell lasted for, like, eight minutes. I’m sure felines could detect it longer, but it was hardly concentrated enough to deter any determined animal. Homemade sprays and spices can also harm animals. Any passing wildlife can get the irritant on their paws and then transfer it to their eyes. This is an unnecessary cruelty to them with no lasting benefit to you.
Motion-activated lights — Cats aren’t weak vampires. You can’t destroy them with artificial sunlight.
Motion-activated sprinklers — Okay, so this one really may deter some pests. But sprinkling water on your dainty vegetables at a random volume and frequency is asking for water distress and potential fungal issues. You’d have to ensure the water wasn’t regularly landing on the leaves (remember, always water at the base of the plant, not from above). Most of us don’t have the spare change to install a security sprinkler system anyway, and surely those who do could better use the funds for anything else.
Mulch — I’ve tried thick wood chips with lots of pinecones and sticks mixed in. The cats take it as a challenge. A litter box with enrichment would also help. Maybe deep rock mulch would help, but who shifts that around yearly to amend the soil and plant stuff? Not I.
Murder — With my full authority as a Master Gardener, a cat lover, and a gardening columnist, I command and beseech thee: do not commit murder over a carrot. Don’t kill a stray cat. Don’t kill your neighbor for letting their pet roam free. And don’t get yourself killed when that neighbor finds Fluffy slain and comes for vengeance. You have less bloody options!
WHAT CAN WORK
Barriers — The simplest and most obvious option is to create a barrier over your plants or around your garden plot or raised bed. Anything that prevents a cat from reaching the area or covers unplanted soil will do.
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