18 years ago, in October of 2005, I adopted Alexander the Great from the VA Siamese Rescue. Yesterday, I had to make the difficult decision to let him go, to free his sweet soul from his old and failing body.
I wanted to write to thank you for everything you have done for cats over the years. Alex was truly one of the sweetest cats I’ve ever known, and I am so grateful to you for making it possible for me to adopt him and spend the last 18 years loving him. He grew into a confident cat, but he always maintained the sweetest and most laid back demeanor.
You and your team gave him his name because you wanted this sweet but shy guy to grow up into a strong brave cat. I couldn’t bear to change his name, because I had nothing better to offer, so “Alex” stuck. And it worked. He grew up to be a strong, confident, and adventurous cat. Many friends said he was like a puppy, because he would greet people at the door and follow people around the house. When I started taking him on adventures beyond his own back yard about 6 years ago, he was a welcome participant. And I loved it, because that meant he could go with me on my travels. He was truly one of a kind, and I hope he sends me another sweet kitty soul to fill his big adventurous paw prints.
Thank you again, for facilitating a perfect match for me and Alex 18 years ago. My heart is aching today, but I will be forever grateful to have had him fill my life with joy for so long. Thank you again for touching so many lives with your commitment to caring for rescue cats.
The papers I carried with me were longer than my tail. Descended from Seti I and Queen Tuya, well known by all, I sauntered into the Rescue Center waving my heritage high like an American Flag. Yeah, I know, they say there’s no such thing as finding a purebred in Rescue, but I was hell bent on disproving that theory.
The Director held open the door. You’re in Bank 2, Row 1, Cage 3. Need a paw up?
I looked at her disdainfully. Any Meezer with my family’s history of long lanky legs certainly didn’t need any help hopping up to a higher place. After all, we came from a higher place and responded to a higher calling. We were, after all, very Royal meezers.
The door clanged shut behind me. “Ummm, excuse me. HelloOOOO out there!!! Get back here please! Someone has slept in this Millie bed previously – I can smell them! Look, I’m paying good money for this place! I’d like some CLEAN bedding please!”
“It’s allllllright. Now quiet down. Dinner is at 5, breakfast at 7. Group playtime during the day, if you play nicely, evenings are individual cage time. It’s evening now, so get some shut eye, big day tomorrow when you’ll see the other cats.” And with that, she exited the room, scrubs swishing gently.
“Huh? Hey, bud, how do I request my chicken liver? There is room service in this third class hotel, right?” I extended my paw as far as I could through the cage bars and waived it in the direction of my neighbor.
“Yea right,” said Reuben. “Hear that Rosie? This guy thinks he’s going to get chicken liver. Geez. What do you think this is, the Ritz?”
“Well I did request first class accommodations from my reservationist. I’m sure there’s some mistake. Let me show you my papers, and you’ll see what I mean….”
“Aaaah, don’t bother chump. Don’t matter none anywho. You’re walking on the dark side here. Now if you don’t mind, time for some shut eye.” And with that, I heard a thunk followed by some fairly snarfly breathing sounds.
Hmmmph. This place had a lot to learn about royalty. Obviously I had my work cut out for me.
After a long night on what turned out to be a quite comfortable bed (despite having to keep my nose in a wrinkle so I didn’t smell the rugrats), I was awakened by the sounds of breakfast. Aha, here we go, I thought, here comes the Sevruga. “Oh dear, I’m sorry, that’s not what I ordered. And where’s my crystal dish? Everyone knows that the Setis only eat from the finest crystal. Would you have a word with the chef please and let him know that Ramesses is asking?” And Reuben, what is it with you and the snortling? For goodness sakes blow your nose, you sound like a complete inbred, it’s disgusting.”
“Listen, Prince Here & There,” snarfled Reuben. “You’re obviously got a thing or two to learn about Rescue. Your fancy diploma won’t do you any good here. We’re all in the same boat – left a bad situation and looking for a better one. Take Rosie for instance. Can’t look a human bean in the eye without breaking out in hives. Highly allergic to most of them, forced to leave her family because they were so irritating. And then there’s Phoebe. Lived in a family with tiny beans who had no idea how to use the litterbox and messed themselves all the time. What a stink, completely unacceptable for those of us who like to be clean. Needs a family already toilet trained. And Muffy. Her family redecorated. Everything wooden, not a thing left to scratch on. What did they expect her to do? So we packed our bags. Hit the road. And here we are, looking to better our situation.”
Harrumph. Not applicable at all. I came from a purrfect home with well trained beans. Very clean. Always flushed. Not an issue amongst them. No reason I couldn’t stay. I’m sure this is just temporary, after all, I was quite an investment.
Dublin gave a smirk. Perfect, huh? Then what’cha doing here anyway? Sounds a little hoakey to me, bud.
Rosie looked at me with those gentle, blue eyes. It’s alright, guy, don’t worry. They’re very good at finding the right home.
And so the days became weeks and the weeks, months. Reuben, Rosie, and even Dublin found their new families, but I remained at the Center. Not to worry, it was the slow time of the year, they said. And then, one Saturday……
They were nothing like I envisioned. A crinkle-ball face with grey scruff attached to a tiny little bean in pigtails came trotting towards me. “Oooh, let’s get this one, pappy, pullleeese!” Dangling like a ragdoll, I closed my eyes to a smell that was an interesting combination of fresh cut hay, tobacco, and early morning grits. A far cry from Sevruga, but it had a home-like smell to it.
I batted at the pigtails to squeals of delight. Small beans? What was the problem? I certainly didn’t have one. Wonder why my first family thought I would?
They didn’t come by their nicknames “The Foghorns” without good reason. Ivan and Skipper had moved to the ports of Seattle, accepting positions as first mates on Omar’s fishing boat, the Fat Cat. From the time they got their ‘seal-legs’ at point of adoption, they’d start every day before the sun, headed out to sea with a shopping list that changed with the tides. Ivan would stand starboard and Skipper port, their whiskers glistening with salt spray as their noses twitched in anticipation. Ivan was the serious one, methodical in his approach, navigating by sound, smell and pure gut feeling. Skipper navigated by pure gut alone, sneaking snippets of bait when he thought Omar wasn’t looking.
By mid morning, when the majority of the world was looking at their watches to see if it was lunch time yet, the Fat Cat would be trolling into port, nets overflowing with the day’s catch. If they were lucky, vacationers out for their mid-morning stroll could hear the Foghorns relay the success of the morning. Wheelbarrows of salmon would make their way from the port to the fish market at Pike’s, where they’d be prepped for the crowds that flooded the Market to see what was fresh.
I was tickled at the thought of spending a full day with the boys, and my taste buds tingled at the thought of fresh salmon right from the ocean. It had been years since I’d visited with them, and I was looking forward to seeing them as full fledged shipmates aboard the Fat Cat.
Predawn came early – barely the faintest hint of light tickling the docks as I made my way to the boat. One would have expected everyone to be fast asleep, but the pier was bustling with activity as everyone readied their boats for the day. My ears perked up as whispers of the best locations were shared between crew members in a hush discernible only to the best trained ears. I made my way down to the end of the pier as instructed, scanning the decks for a recognizable face. It wasn’t long before a familiar sounding foghorn attached to quite a stout body greeted me. “Ahoy, matey! And welcome aboard!” Skipper came padding forward, all 18 pounds of him, his toothless grin stretching from ear to ear. “Hop skip, not a moment to be lost.” I clambered on board, nodding ever so slightly to Ivan who was busy surveying the equipment. “Right,” said Skipper. “Over here’s the bait. I’m in charge of the bait. Got to make sure it’s fresh. Anchovies and herring, that’s my favorite. Works great. Tastes great. Everyone’s happy.” And his head disappeared inside the bucket. “Yup, this’ll do, we’re all set” said he, smacking his lips, a suspicious looking silvery tail disappearing quickly. “I think we’re ready.”
Without another word, we were off. Ivan obviously had a plan, and he wasn’t to be swayed. He kept keen eyes on the horizon, sounding his foghorn as schools were spotted, barking orders to Skipper whose mouth remained suspiciously full. Having been a number of years since I’d sailed on a boat, I found it took the majority of my concentration to stay balanced, and it wasn’t long before I wondered whether I’d become the first ‘emerald point’ Siamese. Luckily, the weather cooperated, the ocean remained somewhat calm, and I didn’t toss my cat chow.
The morning was a success. The boys had it down to a science, and while it wasn’t any mystery how Skipper had become so portly, it did seem strange that there was enough bait left over to catch the amount of salmon we did. It was barely mid-morning when we swung back toward land, heading at quite a clip towards the market. “Got to be ready for the lunch crowd,” Ivan explained, “that’s where the action is.” I nodded in agreement, hoping whatever action there was at lunch was followed by a good, long siesta.
Yours Truly,
Howard Beakman (For more sealfaring stories, follow my blog)
It was a year and a half ago when I left home to stay at ‘camp’, or so they called it. And camp out I did, in a cage, for seven months. Seven long months trusting it would be alright – and because I trusted, I waited, and I expected. I expected that the commitment that had been made to me would be honored. Yes, I had food and water, and yes, I had a roof over my head. It would be alright, they kept telling me. Someone would come back for me someday.
Well they didn’t. And just as well because obviously someone hadn’t explained to them about decency and responsibility. And so I lost that home, and spent seven months of caged life, and then came to the Rescue.
I can’t find my Dad …..
Here they know decency. And responsibility. Kindness and warm hearts and snuggles abound. And a commitment is made to each and every cat that enters the program – to do the very best by that cat that they can do. But these Rescue folks are up against tremendous odds. Because not only do they have to work to provide for the present and the future, but they work to overcome the past. These folks work to repair the damage done by countless other folks who don’t give a second thought to leaving us by a dumpster, closing us in the basement, kicking us down the stairs, or abandoning us in a kennel for seven months. The psychological damage can be overwhelming. The physical damage debilitating. The emotional scars long term.
Oh Dad, where are you…….
Some of us bounce back. Some of us, given the time and the patience, can conquer the demons – we can learn to trust again, to believe that we will have food and water, that we will be protected, that we are worthy of love. And with proper attention and care, some of us can also overcome the long term damage to our physical beings. And some of us can’t. Some of us will still bite, or swat, or pee inappropriately (mea culpa). Some of us will refuse to eat and some of us will eat until there’s no end in sight. And some of us, no matter what kind of intervention is taken, will lose the battle.
Dad?
The nice Rescue lady tells me there’s a new family for me, we just have to find them. While I look forward to that, I still wonder about Dad. I sure hope he’s okay, because I’ll miss him.
It was 1997 – Siamese Rescue still just a passing thought. Whiskers of all sorts were joining the ranks of those who had moved from old to new house: felines Beeky, Broadway, and Triscuit; woofers Solomon, Scout and Benji. Right after the move came felines Opi, Suki and Duke plus woofers Smutty and Pepper. And not to let a few acres go to waste, along came cottontail Flopsy, Nibbles and Gobbler, the Nubians, and quackers Donald and Jemima (who were short on whiskers but made up for it in feathers).
The woofers needed some work on sibling relationships, and it wasn’t long until Scout ate Flopsy and Pepper ate Donald and Jemima. Solomon munched on a foster child which bought him a ticket to ride; Nibbles and Gobbler escaped one too many times, earning them two seats in the back of a VW bug as they headed to a new home. Meowm worked hard to keep her numbers up – she knew that X + 1 was always better than just plain X. After Suki (strong seal diva female) and Duke (soft dim chocolate goof) failed to fill her need for a smart but snuggly soulmate, Sapphire, Mamagayo, Whitney, Coffee, Blue, Taraatini, Jasmine and Blupert all auditioned for the job. Let me tell you, that upstairs Geezer Ward was a little tight on pillow space. It was a good thing most everyone was a sealpoint; Hubby1 never caught on that when he was home, everyone went by the same name – Meowm’s attempt to whitewash how many of us were actually in the house.
If I were to ask Meowm what the most difficult lesson of rescue was, there would be no doubt as to her reply – while every cat deserves a chance, and in an ideal world there’s a place for everyone, when faced with a limited number of rescue spots, one has to invite cats in that can be adopted back out. This was a fluid number depending on a lot of different things – how many fosters there were, how many adopters were asking, what the bake sales were like, what time of year it was, and so on and so forth. It was muddling my brain to listen to all the criteria that had to be considered every step of the way. And there’s no doubt, Meowm’s heart got the best of her early on. As a consequence, some of us Geezer Ward residents had to find alternate arrangements when the facilities were occupied.
You’ve read about Sapphire (Episode 1) – the one who stayed simply because Meowm hadn’t made it clear to her owner that rehoming was gong to happen. Mamagayo (lucky #13) was ‘older than the wind’, and obviously someone that age had only one last move in her – to the upstairs heated bed. Whitney was next – Hubby1 fell in love with her and he had been such a sport, Meowm had to say yes. (While he did have second thoughts when she peed on him in bed on Valentine’s Day, by then it was too late.) Then there was Coffee who won the ‘most muddled’ award (and came the closest so far to soulmate material); the Blues Brothers – Blue (who was a seal) and Blupert (a blue) (don’t ask me how they secured those names or a spot, but they did); Jasmine (a medical curiousity that never got figured out) and Taraatini – such a crabby seal diva she refused to budge. A good thing that by this point the Rescue Center had been built, because if two is company, 13 was definitely a crowd.
As if this wasn’t enough, Meowm followed some crazy lady’s online advice and signed up to rescue an Italian Greyhound. (HELLO Meowm, did you even READ that they are close to impossible to house train?) She figured the wait list was long and it would be months before she had to say something to Hubby1. But it was her lucky week and within two days she was bumped to the top of the list (rescue experience and all that (HA!)) and before Hubby1 had even been informed not one but two Iggys showed up on her doorstep. Does it surprise anyone to learn there was not a spot left for Hubby1?
By the time Y2000 rolled around, Meowm had roped in some amazingly good Beans – Beans who would not only be adopters but who would morph into all different cogs of the wheels of Siamese Rescue. Fosters, transporters, interviewers, crafters and many others brought their compassion and skills to Team Meezer. A Team that – despite many mishaps yet to be told – would become a family of friends, a community of cat lovers, a history worth repeating – pooling their resources together to save Siamese.
I, for one, remain furever grateful.
Yours truly,
Howard Beakman (follow me and my adventures by subscribing to this blog!)
Sapphire, looking purrfectly at home, was not going anywhere
While there are some cats who have learned, overtime, that humans are awful and scary and therefore may be proactively aggressive with you, typically you see a cat bite or nip in reaction to something you are doing, or not doing – bringing some of the onus back to the owner.
Some of the more common reasons cats nip:
We have taught them to do this by our own behavior
They are frightened
They are seeking attention, albeit inappropriately
They are overstimulated
They are vying for Top Cat Position
They are declawed*
As a kitten, many people (and sorry, guys, but a heavy portion of the blame may fall on you) have actually taught the cat to pounce on hands. Think about the all-too-common scenarios – the kitten is on the bed, and you are wiggling your fingers (or toes) under the sheet, encouraging the cat to pounce. Alternatively, there is no sheet or blanket, and you are using your fingers to tempt the kitten to play. A pouncing kitten is often followed by a full hand-on grab around the belly, perhaps rocking or jiggling the kitten back and forth as a tease. While this behavior may seem like harmless fun, and yes, many of us did it for years, what we are teaching the cat via this behavior is that hands and fingers are toys. When that kitten goes from a 2 pound jumping bean to 10 pounds of solid muscle, it’s no longer funny – yet too often, we were the ones who taught the cat to behave this way. From the beginning, never ever use your hands as play toys – always use a cat toy as you encourage the very normal kitten behaviors of pouncing, chewing and ‘bunny kicking.’ Hands should be kept for soft movements, such as petting.
Cats who respond with biting behaviors when frightened, are, well, frightened of something, and often that may be you. It’s pretty simple. Stop whatever you are doing that is triggering the fear. Along these lines, realize that picking up and cuddling a cat is a human need – it’s not necessarily something the cat wants until they are comfortable with you, and maybe not even then. Just like you don’t force yourself on another person, do not force yourself on the cat until the cat is ready. And yes, some cats may never be ready for the level of interaction you are attempting. (One of our cats has been with us in a quiet loving household for ten years, and we still can’t pick her up).
As far as seeking attention, cats are not much different than children in that if they feel lacking in the attention department, they are going to seek you out, even if the interaction results in negative attention. While there are some cats who may by nature be standoffish and want to be left alone, cats in general are social creatures, and your typical house cat will, at some point, appreciate your attention – whether it’s playing with them, petting them, or just feeding them. If you continue to ignore them, some cats may revert to nipping or grabbing at your hands in an attempt to get you to recognize their need for interaction. While we will discuss ways to curb this behavior in a separate post, keep in mind that if you have taken on the responsibility of a pet, that responsibility includes paying it some attention, regardless of how busy your day was or how exhausted you may feel. This could be petting, if that’s what the cat wants, or it could be playing (feather wands are great for this).
Overstimulation can happen as a result of how you are interacting with the cat; it may also happen as a result of something external that is in the environment. If you are in the middle of an intense brushing session, for example, you may notice your cat’s tail begin to twitch, or the skin to ripple – and because cats can’t talk to you and say ‘ouch, you’re too rough’ or ‘that’s enough thank you’ they may overreact if you continue the behavior. Just as you might ask someone to stop if they were getting too intense with a neck massage, your cat may simply be asking you to cool it. Pay attention to those body signs.
There may be external forces at work as well that are causing overstimulation. If you’ve ever watched your cat at the window eyeing the birds, or perhaps another cat that’s outside, you are likely to notice some tail twitching and vocalizations of some sort. Should you choose this inopportune time to focus on petting your cat, or even just picking it up, you may find you get a smack or a nip. External overstimulation, or redirected aggression, requires you to pay attention to the environment and to selectively choose the times you are going to interact with your cat. It’s a two way street – when you want to give attention, your cat should indicate they are ready for your interaction, either by seeking you out or by demonstrating positive responses when you begin to touch them.
Finally, nipping can occur when the cat is challenging you for Top Cat. This is a bit more difficult to address and we see it a lot when a very smart cat is owned by a very ‘gentle-natured’ person:
Cats tend to live in hieararchies. Whether it be lions in the wild or multiple domestic cats in the home, there is almost always a Top Cat. Sometimes it’s obvious which one is dominant (they usually eat first, they are never usurped for the best sleeping spot, etc.), sometimes it’s very subtle and hard to tell. When you have just one cat and one owner, it’s clearly the owner who is supposed to be dominant. However, when the owner a) caters to every whim of the cat (you want to get up at 4am and play? Sure! You want to have a snack at midnight? Absolutely!) or when the owner is intimidated by the cat, the cat may take that as an indication that the position of Top Cat is available. This results in the cat expecting you to bow to their every desire, and if you don’t, reaping the consequences. If this is you, giving in to excessive whims of your cat, you may need to work to adjust that. You are the boss, you choose the rules. Sure, we accommodate and spoil our cats in many ways, but you can’t sacrifice your health and welfare to do so. And if you’re intimidated by your cat, (and I’m surprised at the number of people who are), you need to work to get over that, taking up the lead position in the relationship. You are bigger, stronger, and in charge, so while it’s important you are compassionate, kind and sympathetic to the cat’s needs, you can’t be frightened of the cat, or the relationship is not going to work.
*Finally, we should mention cats that have been declawed. In rescue and shelter situations, where cats have been traumatized at some point for some reason (abuse, abandonment, etc.) and then find themselves in a situation where they feel threatened, declawed cats are very likely to use their teeth as a defense weapon. Makes total sense when you realize that they no longer have their claws, so the warning swat no longer holds any weight. We won’t talk about the cons of declawing in this post; suffice it to say it pays to be aware that those cats who have been declawed may well become biters.
In Part 2, we’ll talk about different ways to address nipping and biting behaviors, so stay tuned. (If you enjoy these posts, please consider subscribing to the blog, and thank you!)
Bunny, after 10 years with us, will still not allow us to pick her up.
So you’re getting a new cat! How very exciting! Once upon a time, I combined households with hubby #1, bringing his cat, Broadway, over to my house and plopping her down in a room with my two cats. All three were laid back; I figured they’d sniff each other and be wonderful friends from there on in. What ensued was a fur-flinging, pee-spraying fight that lasted almost 10 years. They never got over that (WRONG) introduction and poor Broadway lived out her life in misery because we didn’t introduce them the right way. Don’t make that mistake!
Whether or not you have other animals, it is highly likely that your new cat may be a bit overwhelmed by the change of scenery, particularly if it’s past kittenhood. Cats like small places, so before bringing your new family member home, set up a room that can be the ‘safe room’ for your cat. A place to hide (under the bed is fine), food and water, and of course the litterbox are the main components. The chosen room should be a quiet one; ideally a space where you can easily spend time (even if it’s sleeping) – so a bedroom, den, study or home office works well. Make sure that the food, water and litterbox* are fairly close to wherever you suspect the cat may hide and that they don’t have to cross an enormous spanse of scary space to get to them. Ideal isolation time (if you have other animals) is 10-14 days, just in case your new cat breaks with a sniffle or a bout of loose stools from the stress of the new environment (you don’t want any existing animals to catch anything). If you do need a vet visit (and it’s always a good idea with a new family member), it’s ideal to make your appointment at or around the ten day mark, allowing you an opportunity to observe and get to know your cat. This way you can provide information on eating, drinking and litter habits to the vet. (You definitely want a vet visit in place before your cat meets any existing pets). Rushing off to the vet on day one can be done, but doesn’t allow you to provide any feedback as to how the cat is adjusting. Obviously if your cat is sickly or comes from a situation where it hasn’t been vetted, an early vet visit will be prudent.
Even if you don’t have other animals, you will know your cat is ready to explore when you walk into the safe room and your cat is standing there looking at you expectantly, as if, surely, there must be more to your home than this small space. Don’t rush this, there’s no hurry, ensuring your cat is good and comfortable with you as well as with the smells and sounds of your home is key before giving them the entire house to explore. I always liken this time to a person’s first ever visit to a large city: New York City for example. Imagine you are a country person with no experience in a metropolitan area – you could easily be overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and even smells of such a large place. For a cat, your home may be similarly overwhelming, so take it slow.
If you have other animals, you can help the integration process during the 10 days by exchanging bedding, the litterbox, even by placing the carrier your cat used out in the general population so that it can be inspected. Remember that animals and particularly cats work by smell, so providing every opportunity to smell the new member without actually interacting with them is ideal. Basically you want to wait for two things – first, existing pets appear bored by the fact there is a new addition behind closed doors, and secondly, the new pet is showing comfort within their safe space – laying on the bed, acting relaxed, interacting with you, etc.
When it’s time to integrate, depending on how many other pets you have, you may want to introduce them one at a time, rather than the entire slew, so that there is no opportunity for gang behavior. I have always been a fan of simply leaving the door to the safe room open, as if I did it by mistake, and letting nature take its course. Again, depending on the size of your home, you’re not going to do this if you live in a massive place and your new cat is spooked. You may need to gradually increase their comfort zone by closing off extraneous doors as you allow your cat the opportunity to explore the new digs.
Patience is really key. You are working here to build a long-term relationship between you and your new cat and your new cat and the existing family members, both furry and human. Cats who are overwhelmed need time to decompress – they are unlikely to want to be held, cuddled, carried around until they trust you – no kissing on that first date. If you rush things, forcing yourself or others on the cat before they are ready, establishing trust and bonding between family members is going to be so much more difficult to attain. There is no hurry – relationships are not built overnight. Failure to integrate properly often results in rivalries that cannot be overcome, as was true for poor Broadway. She spent her entire life tormented by the other cats in the household and, in hindsight, would have been a much happier cat if we had found her a quieter home. But that’s a blog entry for another time.
Kokomo and Gummy became good friends, but it took some time
*Cats should eat and drink within the first 48 hours of getting home. Remember that production in the litterbox means something is going in. If they are so frightened they are not eating or drinking, it’s time for a vet visit asap.
Ok, so I’m not the perfect cat. I’m not just right – I might be too big, or too small; too vocal, or too quiet. I may also have some medical issues, and I don’t have my complete medical history with me to explain why. I may have been exposed to parasites: worms, fleas, ticks, or ear mites. I may have some kind of intestinal upsets, and I may not have perfect stools every time. Behaviorally, I have a little baggage. I may not be able to walk right into your home perfectly well adjusted. I may take issue if there is another cat, dog or child, no matter what age or sex and may show my fear in a variety of ways. I may not love everyone immediately and I may not do exactly what you want in the beginning. I may not be able to adapt to any situation. I may get confused about the litter box, and might even make a mistake, no matter what litter you use, where the pan is, or how often you clean it. Emotionally? I may have some idiosyncrasies. I may nip, swat, hiss, put my ears back, hide, cower or tremble. I may look at you with fear, and distrust, and concern. It might take several months, or even a year before I can begin to trust again.
I am one of society’s throwaways.
Is this the cat you’re looking for?
If not, maybe you should look elsewhere. Please don’t ask to take me home, because I have already been rejected far too many times already and would rather stay at the shelter than be given one more reason to mistrust people again.
I am one of a group of cats. A group that has been dumped in the shelters, booted out the doors, kicked, hit, beaten, yelled at, shot, cursed, thrown from moving cars, left to fend on our own. A group of cats that has learned that humans are NOT kind and society is NOT fair and life is NOT comfortable. A group of cats that didn’t have good prenatal care, that don’t know where our next meal was coming from, that have lived outside through hot and cold and dug through garbage to find enough to eat. We are the cats that have been flea bitten and worm ridden and burned with hot oil. We are the cats who have been hit by cars and left for dead; who have swallowed stones and ribbons and had nothing but intestinal upsets; who have loose stools or who have stools that are so hard they can barely pass. We have been told we were too loud, too messy, or we didn’t match the new furniture. We have been chased by dogs, had our tails pulled by kids, and been bullied by other cats. Some of us have never known a litter box, let alone a clean one. We have watched our loving family drive off one day without a backward glance after 15 years; we have been replaced after ten years with a new puppy. We look at you with big round eyes full of fear and terror, and occasionally hatred, and yes, deep down, with a little hope. We are the cats in Rescue.
Why, then, would anyone possibly want one of us?
The reasons are endless.
We need you. We deserve to be loved, to have a second chance, to learn how to trust again. We have been at the mercy of our surroundings; it is up to you to care for us. You, as part of the race that has caused this overpopulation of animals; you, who as part of the species, some of whose members have mistreated and misplaced these deserving creatures, owe it to us to care. You should be setting examples for the next generation – that this should not be a throwaway society that we can and should be doing something about it. We can be your FAMILY members, members who share in your joys, your sorrows, your misfortunes and your luck. We are here when you need someone to talk to, to comfort, and to be comforted. We lick your tears and pat your face and snuggle under your chin. We like you for you, and we ask so little from you. A pat, a scratch, the toss of a ball, a kind word, we repay you with loyalty and adoration and faithful friendship. You may have to earn it, this is true, and we may be so damaged by our previous experiences that we’ll never be “The Perfect” cat, but the appreciation that emanates from our eyes; the love that we share when we realize we are safe, secure, and home forever, is a gift that cannot be bought. We have seen rough times, yes, but if we are willing to give you a second chance, why won’t you give us one?
