Almost to the day, 11 years ago, I brought home two shelter cats, a bonded pair. I was warned that they had been "brought back" which was a fair way of warning me that they might not be easy to manage. I figured they were about 2 years old, maybe more.
It was obvious within a week or two that they were utterly terrified of us, even though the other cats were okay. In under a year Sammy had run away once, and then run away again permanently. Toby stayed. I never pushed at him, never tried to shove hin into 'loving' me. He had cat friends here, and would eventually tolerate brushing, and now and then a slow blink from a safe distance.
When we got Charlie some years later they bonded immediately, and I think that helped. He still had a friend. This last fall I noticed Toby was beginning to look like a toast rack with fur, but he refused to be handled enough even to get him into a carrier for the vet. So I did the next best thing. I brought down a litter box, and put it in the dining room, got him some new food, and made up a big carton with squashy pillows in it, next to the stove. After a few months he realized that the human wasn't going to throw him out, and he stopped running away the minute I entered the room. Now he sleeps through Loading the Stove, or even my walking past him. I reach down and talk to him and he allows me to pat his head. Purring. Two days running and he has come out to the kitchen in the morning with his tail high and purring, allowing me to actually scratch between his ears and shoulder blades.
I looked it up, and this trainwreck of a cat is 13 years old. I don't expect too much more time with him, I know he's probably on the way out, but he's warm and fed and comfortable, and he's still got Charlie as a buddy.
Unless I find an elderly cat on the doorstep one day, these will be the last cats I have. It's been a good run; 50 years, 22 cats, no regrets.
When my last cat Duncan, went, it was 50 years since there had been no animal in the house. It was a strange feeling, but I've adapted. Many animals, and birds, all strays or rescues, and all very aware this was their last stop, and they needed to get on. And did. Unlikely friendships between cats and birds, big dogs and tiny kittens, I think I've done my bit for now.
ReplyDeleteYep, and I mourn your last cats as much as you do. They all matter. I never wanted my cats to outlive me, not knowing who would have them, or what might happen. all my cats, too, and the derpy dog, were all strays or rescues who walked into the yard and stopped there. No regrets.
ReplyDeleteThese guys are lucky to have you to share the planet with them.
ReplyDeletewell, thank you. I think it's kinda of a mutual thing. I feel lucky that I can do this for them. Almost all of them have been strays, unwanted or just unappreciated, and I strongly suspect they leave seekrit messages on the mailbox the way depression era hoboes left coded signals like "good food, no dogs" or "keep away, not safe" on trees and mail boxes...
ReplyDeleteI think we are down to our last cat. He's thirteen, starting to look a bit frayed around the edges, and no other cat has appeared since we found him. I really want to outlive our cats, no matter how many, as I simply do not trust "we'll take care of your cats' in any form...
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