My Feral Child

Feral Children are by definition more animal than human.  They have been isolated, confined, and deprived human contact.  I adopted one of these children.  She was more wolf or cat than child.  She was suspicious, and hungry.  She was dirty, and most interestingly, she liked to walk on all fours and make cat or dog noises that I would defy anyone to tell apart from a real cat or dog.

One stormy night, we went out to dinner.  I kept hearing a cat's cry in the back seat, but I ignored it as she was so good at making the sound of a cat.  We went into dinner, and when we came out the storm was raging.  A cat's cry was loud now and piercing.  Still in doubt, I asked her to stop.  Then, I saw she wasn't making the sound.

"Is there a cat in the trunk?"

She nodded,and opened the back seat to release the terrified animal.  My window was cracked, and the poor cat flew out the window across the hood of our car, and was never seen again.

She spoke little, and ate by licking her food.  She did not know how to use a fork or a bathroom.  She at four knew more foul words than normal words, and didn't know how to climb up and down stairs, or what an escalator was.  It terrified her.  Life with her was  series of learning experiences that most children would take as uneventful.  Nothing with her was uneventful.

She questioned everything suspiciously, and took everything said to her literally.  She was terrified of having her picture taken. She thought the people in the picture weren't alive, so therefore, they must be dead, and she didn't want to be dead.  Now, I can't get her to stop taking pictures.

Another instance, was when she watched me iron her clothes.  She'd never seen an iron.  So she'd stand with her little nose pressed against the ironing board and stare.  I'd tell her she needed to back away.

She'd ask, 'What are you doing?" 

I told her ironing your clothes.  Again, the screams came.  What now?  She thought I was going to iron the clothes with her still in them.

When she'd get an "owie"  she'd go to the dog and have him lick it.

She didn't know what brillo was and got in trouble in school for flushing all the toilets, turning on all the water, using all the soap, and using all the paper products.  If she had to use the restroom, she'd merely pull some poor child under the stall and throw her out.

Then, came the phone calls from the school.  At the time she was a foster child, and I was beside myself.  I handled problems at home but what to do at school.  So, I called DHS they just laughed and told me they'd handle it.  They ordered the school to hire someone to take her to the bathroom and supervise her.  She had never had a bathroom  before, and it fascinated her, and as for waiting her turn, she never had a tun, so didn't understand that concept either.

There were so many stories that I'm planning on writing a book with her of her life and journey with me.

Today she is a lovely 14 year old but she still has feral tendencies.  She likes to roam at night.  We have to keep the house alarmed, and cameras, and the local police, and neighbors watch for her.  She hasn't gone out in a few months, but she remains in love with the wild nights.

She told me when asked why she did this:  "I love the night."