Friday, September 23, 2011

progress of a sort

With cats, you have to take them as they are, no matter what baggage they bring with them. We  have had Toby and Sam for five months.  In that time they have progressed from huddled cringing terror (omg here she comes, shes gonna pat me,I just know it, ohhhh make her stop) full throttle escapes whenever a human came within view, from any distance, to resigned acceptance that yeah, the humans are still here;  we don't have to like it, but they do feed and then if I am already In The Room they will hurry through and I pretend I don't see them. 

They have finally reached the stage of trusting cardboard carton "caves" and Toby will play a skillful game of solitaire soccer with almost anything that makes rolly noises on the floor. Sam watches encouragingly.   They recognize, at last, that I am the one who throws stuff for them to play with,  and I am also the one who feeds them. 

The other two cats have accepted them, and share rooms, food bowls, and sleeping cushions although not necessarily at the same time.  And this, after all, is why I keep them.  They needed a safe place, and the other two needed companions.  So this is progress, too. Someday they may let me in and that will be cool.  But for now...


  1. /this post brings back vivid memories of all my cats'early days with me, they all being rescues of one sort or another.

    Annabelle spending her first three months with me behind the washing machine, only coming out at night to feed and drink and use her box, good little girl, very clean as soon as I showed her THIS is where the poop goes, Anna, ohhhhhhh, well, now that you mention it, okay...

    Vico living on top of the top kitchen cabinet watching carefully all around the apartment just checking, for weeks on end.

    Marigold vanishing completely, to the point where I wondered if I'd lost her again.

    But they all eventually came around to being close friends and sleeping on my face.

  2. ahahaha oh yes. The first time I tried to give Isabel her pink medicine, and she went one way, the pinkstuff went the other, upside down into the diefenbachia. It grew wonderfully after that.

    i had a female wanderer, she was a stray who had never learned her territory markers. She would go for a week at a time, stay home for three days, and go again. One day I reached up onto the fridge where she slept and ate, and without thinking, took down her bowl and said, ohhh...we never saw her again.

    Some of them like people (cuffy was that way) more than they like cats, some prefer the company of other cats, some are Above Them All.

    And some seem more than cat, don't they. That extra spark that lifts them above the yawn-stretch-nap-play ordinariness...