Tag: siameserescue

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Out of the Box Experiences – Part 1

Out of the box experiences! The bane of having a cat. The number one reason for cats being turned in to shelters or rescue groups. Without a doubt, the most frustrating, the most common, the most damaging issue with cat ownership.
Yes, believe it or not, one of the easier ones to solve, IF you can take the time and do the detective work. And herein lies the road to returns – too many people don’t want to take the time, or don’t have the patience to try to figure out what their cat is trying to tell them. As Director of the Siamese Cat Rescue Center for 20+ years, I have scooped and monitored litterboxes for thousands and thousands of cats. Were there some whose litterbox issues could not be solved? Sure, but the numbers were miniscule compared to how many we could solve. And I mean miniscule. 20 maybe, out of, literally, thousands of cats who came in with box issues.

They are speaking to you, you know. And if we could all understand those meows, resolving the issue might be easy. But since we don’t speak cat, we must learn to understand what they are saying by doing some puzzle solving.


1) Let’s start with the basic tenets: your cat is over six months of age and is spay/neutered. What? Your cat is not spay/neutered yet? Stop reading right now, take care of that, and then, if the issue continues, read on. Females or males, if not spayed or neutered, are highly likely to pee (urine is directed downwards from a squatting position) or spray (urine is directed horizontally from a standing position) if they are not spayed or neutered. Read that again. Females will spray as well.
2) You have been to the vet and had the cat checked for urinary tract issues. You could be wasting your time spending lots of energy trying all sorts of behavioral strategies when it could be something as simple as an infection. Both males and females can get UTIs (urinary tract infections), crystals in the urine, even bladder and kidney stones (though less common). Particularly if your cat has been fine in the box, nothing has changed in the household, and out-of-the-box experiences begin, it’s time to take a trip to the vet. No one likes to spend money unless necessary, but infections and crystals are easily treated once you know about them, so rule them out first.
3) There is an issue with the box itself. Now imagine yourself at the last restaurant, concert venue or other public place you have been, and you need to use the restroom. You find where it is (was it obvious?) and you look at the row of toilets. How many of us are going to choose one that has not been flushed? Or smells awful? Or has urine on the seat or the floor? You know the drill. We are walking down the row of toilets peering in each one to find one that looks halfway clean. Your cat is no different (and arguably cats are cleaner than most humans). They don’t want to use a toilet that is full, or filthy, or smells. They want one that is clean. Because they may need to go more than once during the day, hopefully (see below) they have more than one litterbox to choose from. The box they choose needs to be clean, which means not just keeping it scooped, but keeping it odor free. This may involve scrubbing the box on a weekly basis (or as needed). Remember that a cat’s sense of smell is much better than that of a human.
4) There is an issue with what’s inside the box, assuming we’re not talking feces and urine. In other words, what kind of litter are you using? It may be nice and fine that you prefer dust-free, flushable or some sort of organic litter, but is that what your cat likes? Cats have very sensitive noses, so not only can they detect long-term urine smells, but they are also often overwhelmed by the scented litters. While many times it is possible to convert a cat from one type of litter to another, cats with sensitive feet (in particular those that are declawed) are often averse to anything that feels too gravelly or rough on their paws (pelleted litter for example). Additionally, while it may make things easier for us, many cats absolutely hate plastic litterbox liners.
5) There is an issue with location. Flash back to the public venue you were last in when you needed to use the restroom. Was it clear where that restroom was? Was it down a dark hallway that was kind of intimidating? Did you have to go up or down flights of stairs when you were feeling a bit arthritic? Was the bathroom located where it was terribly smelly, or loud, or sketchy in any way shape or form? Ideally, all of us would like to have a pleasant and relaxing experience when we use the toilet, even if it’s a quick one, and your cat is no different. So rethink locations that are in closets, down the stairs to a dark corner in the basement, behind the noisy washing machine, etc.
6) What about the type of box? Is it hooded, because you don’t want to see or smell it, but your cat is afraid of tight spots or dark places? Is it big enough the cat can get in, turn around, dig to China, and use the box without going over the edge? Does it have a high lip they have to climb over when they are old and achy? Is it motorized and makes a scary noise if they linger too long?
7) Finally, let’s talk about the number of boxes you have. Keeping in mind what has been discussed above, unless you have nothing else to do with your time other than scoop litterboxes, you likely need more than one box. The general rule of thumb is one box per cat, plus one more. This will ensure that there is always a clean box available when the cat needs to go. If you don’t have room for more than one box, and you have litterbox issues, then rethink the number of cats you take on. If you won’t use a public restroom that hasn’t been flushed or cleaned, don’t expect your cat to be happy doing so.

Cats are very clean creatures, and they function primarily by smell. They also have good memories, so it only takes one or two negative experiences to turn a cat away from a particular box or location. If the box is uncomfortable in any way (where it’s located or what’s inside of it), they are likely to pick another place to go. How likely are you to return to a public venue where you had an awful experience?
In Part 1, we’ve touched on medical considerations, as well as talking about the location and the physical box components that are important. In Part 2, we’ll discuss the environmental, emotional and psychological issues which may affect litterbox behavior. (If you like this post and want to read more, please subscribe to the blog – you will be notified when there are new posts!)

Cats have a lot going on in their heads, but trying to understand what they are telling us is often a challenge.
Squeaks wants desperately to tell me what’s wrong…..
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Are You My Soulmate?

Suki. She was everything I said I wanted. Young, check. Healthy, check. Cute, check. Playful, yup. Never one to waste a minute, before my cat of 18 years had been in the ground 24 hours, I was scouring the internet for Siamese kittens. The best way to get over a heart break? For me, it was to give my love quickly to someone else. We always had multiples – several dogs, a number of cats – but Beeky had been my soulmate. He was the one who kept me sane during tumultuous teenage years; the one I snuck into the college dorm; the one who moved with me to the big city and was with me through the start of both married life and motherhood. While we had other cats, no one was able to read me like Beeky, and when he passed, I was anxious to find his replacement.
Suki came from a family breeder – not registered, nothing fancy, but certainly a decent upbringing. There were six siblings, but several had already been claimed, so I had a choice of two females – both so cute – how can you go wrong with a Siamese kitten? After careful consideration, I went for the one that appeared to be deep in thought, surely a sign that she was soulmate material. While she was young, only 8 weeks, and tiny, only 4 pounds, I figured this would give us a great start on the bonding process. Plus it was May, and as a teacher, my summer stretched in front of me with nothing much to do but focus on my new best feline friend.
It was, and was not, a busy household. I was married, but my husband worked out of state, so was only home on weekends. I had one daughter, aged 7, who was on the quieter side; while involved in plenty of extracurricular activities and friendships, very few of them happened at our home, a six acre spread out in the country. The busiest part about it was the other animals – at the time we had three dogs, a rabbit, two goats and several ducks. Plus we had several cats who had always been indoor-outdoor and were not about to convert to indoor only; with Suki, however, I was heading towards the mindset of indoor only.
So how to raise her as my soulmate cat? Well, it only made sense that some of her personality would come from genetics; I had met the parents and they certainly seemed like nice cats – no skitziness, raised underfoot, busy but involved family. I figured the rest was up to me – I needed her to bond tightly with me, and being not one to sit around much, I fashioned a sling-like pocket that I put her in while I trapsed around the house doing whatever it was a somewhat ‘single’ parent did while caring for a seven-year-old child, three in-house dogs, four cats, the rabbit, goats and ducks. Day in and day out I worked to make sure we spent as much waking (and sleeping) time together as possible. I would be her favorite person, and she my favorite cat.
And so it went for those formative three months – we were together day and night (to the best of my ability). Did you know that seal females are very smart, but also typically very independent? They can be quite opinionated and determined, and often don’t like to be told what to do. They also, in general, will fill the role of queen bee, choosing their companions – both human and feline – and blossom with routine and predictability. Despite all my efforts – and my determination to have Suki fill the role of Siri’s soulmate, she was not having it. She liked to do her own thing and was certainly not going to be told who she should bond with. She was not much of a snuggle bug, and I had wanted an ‘in your arms’ type cat. She definitely was not going to be molded into something she was not, and the ‘carry around in the sling idea’ expired the minute she figured out how to jump out of it. The other felines were tolerated, but were clearly below her. As time went on, and yes, the animals continued to accumulate (three dogs became six, four cats crept up to seven), Suki made it perfectly clear that she was one unhappy camper. Not only did she dislike all the animals, she was also not that keen on me, despite all that early together time I had manufactured.
The lesson here? Soulmates only happen once in a great while. You can’t force them, you can’t finesse them, you should consider yourself lucky if you do find one. At one point after we stopped intaking cats into the Rescue program I counted how many personal cats we had over the years, and came up with some crazy number – I think it was in the 60’s. (This is because we typically took in the older cats who only had a few years, so while we had a great many, we also lost a great many.) But in all of those family members, while there were many cats that I absolutely adored, and there were many that fell into the ‘pretty good’ category, there were only four that made it to soulmate status. Suki? She was a nice cat. But my take-away from the experience with her was the lesson, not the cat.

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Dear Sebastian:

You came to me on December 22, 1998, just three days before Christmas. Your step-grandmom had adopted a new sibling from me, Celeste, whom she loved dearly. But you just hated Celeste. You had never asked to live with your step-grandmom; your dad had left for the Rainbow Bridge and she was kind enough to take you in. While she provided you with a loving home, the two of you never connected, and it was clear you were an unhappy cat, which translated into an unhappy owner. Adding a sibling made matters worse. I told your step-grandmom that this was not the usual procedure – that I did not place a cat and take a cat in return – but I could tell from her voice, and from yours, it was the right thing to do. So I did.

Down you came to the Virginia Rescue Center. And, as is custom, off we went to the vet to get you checked out. So extremely agitated were you, throwing yourself against the sides of the carrier, yowling up a storm beyond anything any of us had ever heard, that the vet suggested something I never told you, but I refused to listen to her. They had to physically restrain you and heavily sedate you in order to be able to even get close.

Turned out your mouth was a shambles! No wonder you were so crabby, most of your teeth were rotten or falling out. A dental certainly was in order. And so we did one, removing most of your teeth. Surely this would make you happier, and to a very small extent, it did. You came back to the Center to settle in and build a reputation as the “Halloween Hisser”. Adopter after adopter that came through the house was taken aback by your attitude, something unparalleled in my cat experience. You certainly came across as one crabby cat.

Then along came a family in Chicago. Everyone involved felt certain you would be the appropriate fit, except perhaps you. Off you went, complaining loudly, to your new home, and back you came, just a few days later, having protested enough to terrify the family and alert the neighbors. Despite all the in-depth screening and conversations we’d had in advance, this clearly wasn’t the right fit. We were all disappointed; you were extra stressed after enduring several plane rides, and we were back to square one. After some time you settled back into your Virginia routine, still determined not to like anything about anyone.

Determined not to be a loving cat, yet looking at me with those adoring eyes. Determined not to be affectionate, yet rubbing against my legs every time I stood up. Determined not to purr, yet giving small sounds when I kissed your head. Determined not to belong to anyone, yet laying contentedly on the pillow every night. And I, determined not to fall head over heels, did. I thought you would have to stay. I knew you wanted to stay. I kissed your soft head, dodged your clawless paws, ignored your constantly crabby voice, and loved you regardless. I gazed into your big eyes, avoided your territorial stances, shared the bad and the ugly with potential adopters, and loved you even more.

Then, one day, along came two angels. They visited you many times. They listened to your rude words. They endured your angry swats and your toothless hiss. They left, but visited again. They talked – we talked – you hissed. They coaxed – we considered – you grumbled. They cajoled, you lunged, they loved you more.

Tonight you have gone with them to your new home. While you don’t believe it now, thrashing and swearing inside the carrier, they are taking you to a wonderful new life. They are earth angels, and you will go on to live out an amazing life with them and their cats. They will adore your crabbiness, your angry voice, your hissy fits, and your big blue eyes. They will kiss your head, avoid your swats, talk soothingly over your yowls, and love you forever. They will give you warmth, comfort, security, safety, and most importantly, unconditional love.

Many cats have come and gone. Each one is special, and a certain sadness accompanies the wonderful feeling of sending each off to their new home. But for you, Sebastian, for you who was crabbier beyond belief, I sit here and weep, for I will miss you deeply. With your departure has gone a piece of my heart.

Be happy, my friend. Live long and well, and learn to love Kristin and Josh, the rescue angels who could see through your exterior to the frightened insecure boy underneath. I will love you forever.

“Aunt” Siri


(Post adoption note – Sebastian went on to live a long, full and happy life with these two adopters, successfully adjusting through a number of moves and life changes. In 20+ years, this was the only time we actually did a ‘trade’ – taking a cat and adopting out a cat to the same person. In this case, it was the right thing to do, and just goes to show you, nothing about Rescue is black and white.)

Sebasitan was one Angry cat! But oh did I love him!
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It’s All In Your Head

When Siamese Rescue began (1998), there was so much I didn’t know – not only about the business of rescue itself, but also about cats and cat care in general. Sure, I had owned cats my entire life, and yes, many of them happened to be Siamese, but I was totally unprepared for the challenges that rescue would bring and the experiences it would provide. Every cat left us with something, and those lessons would serve us well, as the Rescue grew to help over 13,000 cats in 20+ years. Tiki, one of our earliest guests, showed us that rescuing cats went a lot further than managing their physical needs.

The call came on a Thursday evening; I had just collapsed at home after a full day in the special ed classroom. Having gotten my name from the local shelter, Mrs. B. had been watching a large male Siamese cat rambling around her back yard over the past few days. Assuming he belonged to a neighbor, she had watched his health slowly decline as she waited for his owner to take action. By Thursday morning, the cat was clearly struggling, his breathing labored. Realizing the neighbor was not going to take action, Mrs. B. insisted that I get there straight away.

When I arrived, I found all nine saggy pounds of “Tiki” hunched in a corner of a makeshift crate, looking very miserable. His lips hung in a rumpled fashion on his face; his eyes streamed water. Gathering him up, I called the vet, catching him just before closing and begging him to wait until I got there.

Ushering us in right away, the vet hummed and hawed, poked and prodded, examined and injected. Unable to either afford or get to the closest 24-hour emergency hospital, I headed home armed with a small pharmacy and with the understanding that there really was little hope for this lad unless I could convince him to eat. His fractured pelvis would heal itself, the extensive dental he desperately needed could be done at a later date. The immediate concern was getting him some nourishment. Without their sense of smell, many cats go into a slump and literally starve themselves to death, and Tiki was well on his way. A large-boned cat, his skin fell in folds and his expression held the look of a defeated soldier. A likely throw or fall from a moving car, said the vet; the human rejection and physical trauma painfully obvious.

Working out of my home and knowing he needed to be isolated from any other cats, Tiki got the upstairs bathroom. Covering the floor with soft towels, I was confident in my ability to provide an appetizing cuisine. Having done rescue now for a month or so, I had all the mainstays in the cupboard: various gourmet cat foods, both wet and dry, baby foods, tuna, canned shrimp, sardines, cottage cheese and so forth.

Over the next 24 hours I exhausted all these possibilities and then some. Tiki lay in a crumpled heap, showing not the slightest interest in anything put in front of him. His breathing was so loud and labored it could be heard through the door, putting my husband’s snoring to shame. Humidifiers, Eucalyptus oil, Vicks – nothing seemed to make the slightest bit of difference.

By Sunday, I realized I was very close to losing him and really needed to step up my game. But what to do? He was so depressed, completely closed to the world. Attempts to play had been futile, petting and brushing him evoked little response. A fishy calorie supplement on my finger inserted into his mouth dribbled out with no interest. (I was not yet versed in sub-q fluids). The situation was definitely a bleak one.

Figuring it was close to impossible to make things much worse, I decided to give up worrying about his physical ailments and instead concentrate on his psyche. Armed with towels, heaters, a blow dryer, shampoo, and nail clippers, I drew a long warm bath. Very slowly I lowered him in. Tiki lay like a rag doll, not having the strength to give even the slightest protest. I scrubbed and rinsed, soaped and soaked. The sweat trickled down my neck as the heater warmed the air to a steamy 95 degrees. Tiki molded to my hands in whatever form I needed, barely flicking a whisker as the bubbles enveloped his body. He was so relaxed, I wondered if I was going to lose him right then and there. And yet, as I continued to scrub, a light began to glow in Tiki’s eyes. Slowly stretching his neck, his tongue raked weakly across my hand. A muffled sound came from his throat, a very sorry attempt at a purr. With his eyes half closed, a look of sheer contentment crossed his face.

Fifteen minutes later, after soaping him ears to paws, I lifted him onto the softest towel I could find. Rubbing him briskly, I told him all about his future. Listening closely, he purred and stretched, arched and yawned, and when he couldn’t stand it any longer, took a paw in helping with the clean-up. Licking briskly himself, as well as me, he began to purr full throttle.

Next came the blow dryer. Tiki stood stock still with a very pleased look on his face while I blew and brushed and fluffed him clean. We finished with a nail trim and ear cleaning, and the once sad-looking Meezer was now a silky, handsome (saggy) bundle of contentness. I could almost see the positive energy flow through his limbs as to my delight, he lumbered over to the food bowl and began eating like there was no end in sight.

Six weeks later, I was packing Tiki’s belongings for his trip up north. He had made a remarkable recovery; sleeping in my daughter’s arms every night, crawling into our laps while we watched TV, smiling at us with that silly toothless grin he had. Still needing help up and down the stairs, Tiki had filled out most of his folds and blossomed into a handsome, distinguished gentleman. While a look of disapproval flickered across the vet’s face as I described the bath episode, he was astonished at the change and improvement he saw.

Tiki went on to live happily ever after in upstate New York, settling in with his new family and his best friend, Pippin. His teeth were fixed, his pelvis healed, and he got his second chance at life in a wonderful home. His personality was just like a marshmallow, said his owner, molding to whatever lap presented itself and taking whatever came his way in stride.

From that point forward, we spent an equal amount of time fixating on the cats’ mental baggage as we did addressing their physical issues. While we could fight for them, they had to fight for themselves as well, and they weren’t going to do that unless they felt safe and secure, loved and hopeful. If they didn’t feel loved, they didn’t want to live, and if they didn’t want to live, we were very likely to lose them, regardless of any physical interventions.

Tiki taught us that the psychological aspect of rescue is equally as important as the physical.
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A Leap of Faith

I knew he didn’t have long to live. And he was nothing like I wanted. I wanted someone I could mold – someone I could grow with, who could grow with me. I was going to shape their personality – going to make them just like my last one – going to create a replica of my first soulmate I had growing up. I had to have a kitten.

I had searched everywhere. Watched the classified ads. Scanned the bulletin boards. Even posted a few “Wanted” ads. Nowhere could I find that perfectly pointed, bat-eared complainer to be my bud. True, it wasn’t the heart of kitten season. But they were still being born, I knew it. The neighbor down the road had a slew of them – black, orange, tabbies, calicos – but no Siamese. The dumpster at the Landfill was overflowing with them – and I even saw one that mimicked a tortie – but they were feral. I had never imagined it could be this hard.

And then I came of age. The internet. But of course. They had everything, or at least, a way to find it. And so I did my search.

Low and behold, there it was. A goldmine. The candy shop of all candy shops. One stop shopping. I scanned the pictures, all 115 of them. Available in every color, shape and size. My eyes glistened. I could feel him calling to me. Just a click away, the address loomed larger than life. There was a local rescue that was jam packed with cats – who knew?

The tips of my fingers tingled as I scanned the photos. Would he be there waiting for me? Would I know when I saw him? Would I see it in his eyes?

My heart sank. “Left in a basement for 8 years, I nip for attention.” “Got given up for eating the dog’s food and throwing up everywhere.” “Sensitive stomach, special diet needed.” Oh no. None of these sounded right. They were too old. Too encumbered with issues. Too behaviorally involved. I had just lost one, the heartache had been so deep. I just couldn’t go there again. Besides, they would never bond with me. They had loved someone else – I could never be the apple of their eye.

Maybe if I called. Maybe there were other cats not yet on the website. Maybe they had my soulmate waiting in the wings. Maybe I could explain just what I needed and someone would understand. What did I have to lose?

“… an application process. We don’t get kittens that often…..We concentrate on matchmaking of personalities….. 3-5 days to get approved….. You’ll be assigned an Interviewer….You should be approved before visiting…..” Goodness. I wasn’t adopting a child. This sounded like an incredible amount of work. Since none of the other adoption avenues were fruitful, I guess I didn’t have much to lose. Might as well start the process, though it certainly seemed more tedious than necessary.

(Five days pass by…….)

So I’m finally approved. While I know they are only concerned I provide a good home, I feel as if they have checked me inside, outside and upside down. I’m on my way to the Rescue Center where I’m hoping the cat of my dreams will be waiting. Someone small, cute, bouncy, silly and mischievous, all wrapped up into one. Someone who will pounce on my shoelace and climb on my shoulder and snuggle in my hair. He’s out there, I just know it……

The cats know why I’m here. Some of them come running, having mastered Adoption 101. A few amble nonchalantly in my direction. Several peer from atop perches scattered around the room. My heart beats fast. I talk with each one, and we carefully size each other up. Introductions are made. I wait for that moment – that clicking of souls as we search each other’s eyes for the sign. An edge of panic creeps in. What if he’s not here? What if, of all these cats, my soulmate hasn’t yet arrived?

The Director is patient. She discusses each cat in depth – their likes and dislikes, their quirks and idiosyncrasies. They all seem nice, but no one fits quite right. Just as I was afraid – they’re all too much of this, too little of that. I try to squelch my disappointment. I can wait, there’ll be another time. I have to work hard to keep my tears in check, as I listen bravely to the Director telling me not to worry, that someone will come along….

As I turn to leave, a twitching ear poking from under a blanket-covered lump catches the corner of my eye. Not holding out much hope, I figure ‘what the heck’ and point to the lump. “Not the best candidate,” says the Director. “An older gentleman, medically involved and behaviorally challenged, he’s on his umpteenth home in the same number of years. We figure he’s probably here to stay, which is fine, but he will be close to impossible to place.” My curiosity is peaked. I lower myself to ear level and gently lift the corner of the blanket…………

Three years later, and I still haven’t gotten the kitten who will pounce on my shoelace and climb on my shoulder and snuggle in my hair. Instead, I got a cat who upchucks when he’s bothered, who pulls his hair out when he gets nervous, and who often doesn’t make it to the litterbox. I got an old guy who sits on the side of the tub and holds deep, meaningful conversations with me, who snuggles in my arm with his head on my pillow every night, and who, without reservation, adores me for me. While he looks nothing like what I expected, I truly have found my soulmate.

Alfonso P. Wallabee
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Get Me Outta Here (or the Lament of a Shelter Cat)

Lies lies lies….she waltzes in here half-dressed – hasn’t even brushed her teeth some mornings! LATE for breakfast no less. I mean, we expect to eat by at least 9am and sometimes, SOMETIMES on Sunday mornings we don’t eat until 9:01!!! She IGNORES our constant requests for FRESH tuna and scallops and instead has the NERVE to feed us canned junk. On warm days we PROMISE to stay on the black top and not venture off onto the grass and she REFUSES to even let us peek out the door. We tell her again AND AGAIN we are just FINE and to quit poking and prodding us and she INSISTS we get back into that d**n carrier and go see Dr. So and So when we just want to be left alone to snooze. She interrupts our afternoon naps with Beethoven sonatas and she tells us we have to smile and purr and kiss up to the gobs of beans who troop through here every weekend. She is downright MEAN AND AWFUL! Get us OUT OF HERE SOON and into a REAL home!!!!

Ivan and Skipper (2005) complaining about the accomodations at Siamese Rescue
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The Rescuer’s Promise

Day in and day out I trapse through the crowds of animals in our shelter, but it is one night, after midnight, when it hits me. The expressions on all those furry faces as they look at me, ever so expectantly, stop me in my tracks. There they sit, on the cat tree, inside the condo, behind the bag of food, inside the open carrier. Under the blanket peeking out; standing right in front of me. Umpteen eyes watching, waiting, and hoping.
There are big eyes, small eyes, all sorts of colors, beaming their innermost thoughts at me. Sure, some of it is ‘did you bring treats’, but on a deeper level, I see hope, trust, belief in my ability. How can they have so much faith? How can their history tinged with reality translate into such a magnitude of confidence?
Yet they have it. You can see it. And the pressure can be overwhelming.
For we, as Rescuers, have made a commitment. We have promised each one of them that there is hope. We have worked to overcome their past and told them we could brighten their future. They accept our promises. They have faith in us, even as we struggle to recreate their story.
Trusting us with their lives, they take it day by day, confident we will fix things. They have learned that the hands here are good ones, whether they bring breakfast or antibiotics. It matters not, for we have given them reason to believe.
And we walk in that door, early in the morning, late at night, and there they are. Ready. Waiting. Wondering if the promise we made them is about to come true. Doesn’t matter that it’s nearly midnight, or that the sun hasn’t even risen yet. Maybe. Just maybe it will be their turn to walk into a carrier and go to a furever home. They wait patiently, relying on us to rebuild their future.
I want to give them my heart. My soul. To lay down with each one of them in my arms. To show them what it will be like again one day. I want, more than anything, to bring their dreams to reality, tonight.
Another day comes and goes. An extra scritch here, a soft word there. But it’s not the same as a home. It’s not what they dream about, what they hope for, what we promised. Not yet.
We’ve done good, but we are far from finished. We will get there – because they believe in us, and we won’t let them down.

Koda was in the program for 1175 days before the purrfect adopter came around.
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The Geezer Pledge

You’re getting slower my friend, but that’s okay. You look a bit confused, a bit dazzled at times by the same environment. The light in your eyes is there, yet it is blurred. Your voice is raspy – you ramble on and on about things that were, and are, and should have been. You look up, ever so loving, ever so needing, yet ever so confused. Your daily sojourns become residences; your historical curiosity becomes confusion. You enjoy, and appreciate, and bask in the warmth of a kind hand, a warm heart, a soft voice – yet you are bewildered. Each visit is a trek of immense proportions; a journey with destination unknown. You appreciate yet question, determine yet query, navigate yet search the horizons. A soft touch, a reassuring sound, a gentle whisper, and all is calm.

You may question; I will answer. You may be lost; I will find you. You may search for dinner; I will bring it to you. If you can’t find the litter, I will show you, and if I can’t, I will clean up for you. I have made a commitment to you – I will honor that commitment; I will encourage, protect, provide for and support your needs. I am there for you, because you are you, and I love you.

If you have a Geezer, you can hear me.
Whiskey
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The Victims of a Throwaway Society

Okay, so I am guilty. I don’t even have that much money and I am guilty of doing it. Something breaks? You get a new one. The flashlight not working? It’s not the batteries, could be the bulb. Heck, for a few bucks at Walmart I just get another one. My daughter rips her shorts. I’m not a seamstress, we bought another pair. The handle broke off the rake the other day. They say it’s guaranteed for life. Too much work, too little time to write the company, package the rake, and return it. By the time I purchase shipping materials and pay postage, I might as well buy a new one. And the cost to get a repairman out to fix the washing machine almost equals what I would pay for a brand new one on sale.

Our busy schedules, our need for immediate gratification and solution, and the pressure of getting it all done leads, in many instances, to us ‘throwing out the old and getting new.’  While we may teach our kids the value of saving money by watching for sales or working within a budget, our actions often belie our words. We toss things aside when they break, or get old, or simply take up too much space, and buy new ones.

Unfortunately, this mentality can permeate all aspects of family life. And in some families, nothing is sacred.

Think about that 75 pound dog the neighbor got ten years ago as a cute little puppy? He now has hip dysplasia, can’t always make it down the steps, and occasionally messes in the house. There’s no one to help him down the steps as he’s so heavy and no time to clean up the accidents on the floor. The 15 year old cat who for, yes, 15 years has been someone’s faithful, lifelong bed buddy?  He is now confused, meowing most of the night, and the parents can’t take it – busy lives, they need their rest. And that pair of kittens the kids got for Christmas? They’re now full-grown cats, sharpening their claws on grandmother’s antique chairs, giving mom a headache.

These are just some of the stories we hear in rescue – the list goes on and on. The folks who have too much going on in their lives and have no time to worry about the cat who now has glaucoma and can’t see; the ones whose kids grew tired of the puppy they got for Christmas when they have to walk it before and after school; the family whose kitten grew up to have food allergies and now requires a special diet. What are these people to do? They’ve been saddled with something that no longer fits the mold – something that is no longer easy, convenient, or inexpensive.

Well, if it’s like most everything else in society today, you toss it out. “We can always get another cat when we move,” the mother tells her sobbing daughter. “The dog will be better off in the shelter where she has a chance to be adopted by someone who has the time,” says the dad. “I just don’t have the time or the money to deal with this problem any longer,” says each person in the parade of individuals that walk through our shelters’ doors.

So shelters and rescues suck it up. We take what we can fit, what we can cram into every spare cage and corner. We help what we can afford, with budgets that are already stretched too thin.  But despite our best efforts, our endless compassion and hard effort, there are too many animals out there in need, too few cages, too little money, and not enough help. We are just spread too thin. So what happens to those animals that we can’t get to? To those animals that don’t fit in our already crammed cages, or for whom there isn’t a spare penny? Yup, you got it. Many of those animals will actually make a trash bin.

So have at it. Toss that flashlight and by yourself a new one. Get that new dishwasher you’ve been needing when it goes on sale. But a pet? They are family members. Be responsible. Teach your children the right thing. You brought them into your family. It’s not up to someone else to take care of them when they become a challenge. Think carefully before surprising those kiddos with the gift of a pet for the holidays. While there are, in some cases, legitimate reasons for rehoming a pet, not having spent the time upfront to consider the responsibility a pet brings with it, is not one of them.  

Mr. Bibbles required a diaper change four times a day, but it completely solved the out of box concerns for our family!
Mr. Bibbles, The Best Cat Ever, In His Diaper.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvCj5tvkde0
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Matchmaking 101

Alfonso P. Wallabee & Basil

Alfonso P. Wallabee & Basil

So you’re looking for another cat. But there are so many, and you’re just not sure which one – how to begin?

First thing to do is to look at both your reasons for getting a cat, followed closely by whether you already have cats and need to match to their personalities, and if not, whether you’re getting just one cat or a pair.

Thinking about the future and the fact you’re making a 5-15 year commitment, depending on the age of the cat you choose, goes without saying. Rescues and Shelters obviously want to avoid the revolving door syndrome of animals being adopted out only to be returned a few years later when lifestyles change, so give careful thought to what the future holds for you and your family when you consider what age cat to bring into the home. If you’re retiring in five years and plan to travel, there’s nothing wrong with welcoming a geezer into your home now who may only have a few years left! That’s a few wonderful loving years he might not otherwise have!

If you have no other pets and only want one, you are the dream adopter. While many people think that cats get lonely if you’re gone during the day, many Siamese are purrfectly happy to be the Queen or King of the household. In our experience, females in particular do very well as the only cat. However, only cat situations ONLY work if there is ample human attention. Siamese are NOT a breed well suited for just being left alone for hours on end. If that is your lifestyle, then a pair is much more likely to be successful. (And kittens? They do much better in pairs as they learn critical behavioral skills from each other).

Siamese females, seals and torties in particular, often have very Diva personalities. While Divas can certainly coexist with other cats very well, in the right situation, they often do extremely well as the only cat with the right person. That person would be one who wants a very tight bond with a fairly supreme being, a feline being that is likely to be challenging, moody, independent, intelligent, demanding, easily put out when things don’t go her way, a bit spicey, and often a great conversationalist. They also know your routine, expect you to follow it, don’t normally take well to changes, and let you know, in no uncertain terms, if things aren’t acceptable. They’ll make a point, and not always in the most appropriate ways – the new husband who doesn’t like cats may find his briefcase soaked; the couple who closes this gal out of the bedroom for some private time may find a present waiting outside their bedroom door.

Of course, there are many, many of us that have had numerous females at the same time quite successfully. Sometimes you get bonding, sometimes you get coexistence (not always peaceful), and sometimes you get down and out hatred. The latter seems to occur frequently when you have two gals, similar in a dominant or confident personality style, close in age. When both vie for the throne, all hell can break loose, and no matter how many litterboxes you have, it just ain’t enough. And people think spayed females won’t spray. Been there, done that.

Choose a male, however, and you’re likely to have a completely different experience. No, they may not be top of their class, but they sure are on top of your lap, and often anyone else’s lap that visits. Males are often the easy going, happy go lucky, go with the flow type cat that aren’t nearly as likely to get their nose bent out of joint. Will they slot into any household? Not necessarily, that somewhat depends on who else is in that household, furry and otherwise. As long as you don’t have two dominant / similarly outgoing male personalities close in age vieing for top spot on the totem pole, you can have a wonderfully bonded pair of cats. You also are much more likely to find a purrsonality that teaches children the wonders of Siamese ownership, for they often adore their young charges, following them everywhere, playing fetch, sleeping on the bed, happy with whatever is offered, easy with the mild chaos that can occur in a home with small kids. They tend to adapt to change with a bit less concern, are often the ‘meeters and greeters’ at the front door, and if you’re absolutely set on a lap cat, a male is probably the way to go. However, err with two or more boys, same age, both challenging each other, and you’ll be investing in Nature’s Miracle.

So is it an only cat? If so, choose your personality preference, study your points, think about your lifestyle, and ask lots of questions. Whichever sex you choose, remember Siamese are very people oriented, and do expect equal billing in the household – they are way more than ‘just the cat’.

But what if you have other felines? New additions become a little trickier. Adding cats is a geometric experience, it’s not linear. Each addition has the potential to rock the hierarchy already in existence. So plan carefully.

First of all, consider your reasons. Are you searching out a family addition because you have one cat that is very lonely? Perhaps they’ve recently lost a friend, or perhaps they’re the ‘third wheel’? Are you looking for something that you are not getting from your existing cat-relationship? Or maybe you’re one of the few looking to help one of the less adoptable cats be comfortable for whatever time they have left?

Obviously, if you’re working to match a cat with one existing cat, you need a cat friendly cat. Opposite sex is often the best way to go, even if the cat you have now previously coexisted with same sex. Bringing in a new feline is challenging at best, and you don’t want to displace or usurp your existing kitty’s position. Going with opposite sex allows you to pair a similar personality, without challenging the dominant position. Think about the personality characteristics of your current feline friend. Are they outgoing and confident? Playful and busy? Active and curious? Then they need another cat displaying similar traits. Are they shy? A bit frightened of new things? Do they hide or show other insecurities? If so, be sure to bring in an easy going, cat-loving friend, who will seek and offer affection. The match to be careful of is a very dominant, confident or pushy cat who may well take advantage of one with a fearful nature, resulting in a pariah cat situation. And please remember – just because cats are siblings, that can mean nothing. For all of you that have siblings, think about whether you’d get along with them 24/7. Not always.

If you have a household of cats, consider carefully before you add another one. Remember the geometric thing. It’s true. Additions (and losses) within the household can force a revamp of the hierarchical structure, and there have been numerous cases of one of the cats (not necessarily the new one) becoming the victim kitty when this shift occurs. Once a victim kitty situation develops, it’s very difficult to correct, for the ‘fear smell’ emitted by the frightened one can actually trigger aggression by the others.

So what age or sex is the easiest on all? The popular answer to this is kittens, because kittens don’t yet know their place in the world and everyone likes kittens, including most adult cats (geezers can be another story all together). While introducing a kitten may seem easy as pie, you’re often only postponing the inevitable. Remember that much research indicates kittens get their personalities primarily from the father, and this personality doesn’t emerge in full until they reach sexual maturity, at or about 8 months to a year. Kittens can be considered time bombs waiting to go off – when they get older, their dominant traits may take charge and challenge those with whom they previously coexisted. Hence why if you look in the public shelters, you’ll see a predominance of cats in the one to two year range – cats who, when that personality did come to light, no longer fit the picture.

A word of warning to those with Geezer cats in their household who plan to introduce a kitten. Geezers have earned their spot in the world. They want that sunny window, their bowl of kibbles, and some a quiet existence. What they usually don’t want is a pesky bundle of fur pouncing on their tail, climbing all over them, eating their food; relentless energy constantly disrupting their afternoon nap. Many a family has found that their geezer actually goes into decline with the addition of a very active or young cat, as the stress of it is just too much.

On the other hand, introducing a Geezer is often one of the easiest things to do. Geezers are normally past the point of worrying about a spot on the totem pole, they simply want a spot to relax. They normally don’t have any politics, are just looking for a little love and attention, and the ‘respect the elder’ philosophy emanates as they amble through their new home tracking the sunbeam.

Please remember that more is not always better. We love our kitties like crazy. We know how much time they need from us, how much they can cost if they get sick, how much of an impact they can have on our environment. Be realistic about what you can do, and don’t overdo it, for everyone suffers in the end.

Finally, know that these are all generalizations, based on our 20 some years of matching 12,000 cats to every type of home imaginable, with a very low return rate. That doesn’t mean the exceptions don’t exist. We have all, myself included, had situations which defy the norm – two females same age tightly bonded for instance. So there’s no doubt it can sometimes work. The key? Take the time to learn about the personality of a new cat or cats, and consider the match to any existing felines before you commit.