Feral Cats

I had to capture a feral cat today and take the poor guy to the pound. I'm not sure how old this cat was, but I'm sure he wasn't more than three of four years old. I'd originally planned to grab him and take him to the vet for a checkup first. He has mats, which is to be expected for a long haired cat living outside. Also, one of his eyes was always squinting which gave him a Popeye look. I'm sure it was a battle scar of some sort.
When I grabbed him he tore the heck out of my arms, even though I'd taken the precaution of wearing leather gloves first. His teeth tore right through one of the fingers and grabbed me pretty good on my right hand. It was a struggle getting him into the carrying case, but I knew I'd only get one shot so kept at it. What a fight! He went in, and I went to examine the damage. Nothing too serious, but it's obvious that he really is a feral cat, or at least a cat who's been on his own long enough to go feral. There really isn't a chance to get a home for him. There's no way a vet could check him out to see if he's carrying anything either. I had hoped that a shave and some days of good food would make him presentable for homes, but it's not to be. He's a tough customer.
So I took him directly to the pound. It's sad and I'm bummed out. But there wasn't too much I could do about it. We have a neighbors cat who loves to sun himself on the patio, and the two of them would explore the yard together. I'm glad they get along, but it would only be a matter of time before the feral feline passed some disease on to the other cat. Grrr. There are many times I wish I could talk to cats more directly. I wish I could have explained to the feral guy the situation. Tell him to calm down and shape up!