Catz Be Like "Adopt Me"

This is National Adopt a Shelter Cat Month. All during June, cats in shelters all over the U.S. are donning their best clothes and making themselves presentable to prospective servants (that would be we humans).

They have to fool us into thinking that they are just a sweet kitty who deserves a loving home (who can resist that big-eyed stare), when in reality they are merely looking for someone to feed them, clean their litter box, and maybe have a wam lap available on a cool night.

Seriously, though, if all a cat wanted was food and clean litter box, why bother with finding new servants, er, people? The shelters provide those things. They also usually have wonderful volunteers who will pet any cat who asks, provide playtime and other growth opportunities, and allow life to be wonderful.

But it's not. We won't even talk about the possibility of euthanasia.

Shelters can be crowded. And when they get too crowded, some of the bodies get the ax. (Oh, wait, we weren't going to talk about that.)

Cats (unless they're kittens, and then all bets are off) are introverts. They keep their suffering to themselves. They generally think dogs are a bunch of whiners. No cat in its right mind will complain, even if they're tired, cold, hungry and wet. They are survivors, and survivors keep their hardships to themselves. But that doesn't mean they don't have feelings. They have them in spades.

Photo by Çağrı Beşli: https://www.pexels.com/photo/wet-cat-walking-15742224/ 

I think about our little cat, Torbie. She's probably 11 or 12 years old now, and weighs about four pounds soaking wet. She is a tiny thing, the victim of a family who left her behind when they moved. She spent the first months of her life living under a porch, fending for herself before she was rescued. No wonder she's tiny - as an infant, she had to survive on her own.

Torbie as a kitten

We brought her home when she was around 5 months old. To say she was self-sufficient was an understatement. This was a cat who didn't ask for anything. She hated being picked up, she didn't want to be touched, she scooted under the couch or a chair and kept herself invisible. It took her months to be comfortable eating "in public", and years before she would tolerate any sort of affection. She had no reason to trust humans, and we had to prove to her over and over again that she was safe, loved, and in her forever home.

Today, while I'm writing this blog, she's sitting in my lap (on a blanket because her claws, being tiny, are like needles. I clip them occasionally, but she always sharpens them up immediately because hey! You never know when you're going to have to claw your way out of a situation.) Her purr is bigger than she is. She loves to be stroked, and she will sleep for hours on a lap (on a blanket) when we're sitting on the couch. She has finally learned to trust. She still doesn't like to be picked up much, but she's vocal about getting her canned food and will follow you around until you sit down, so she can jump into your lap.

If I can't have a lap, I'll take a heat vent.

It has been worth every second of loving her unconditionally to see her so relaxed. It took a long time and tried our patience. But I wouldn't trade this little mite and what she has taught us for anything. Although she doesn't really like the other cats all that much, she does tolerate them so long as she can have her time with us. We're happy to give her that.

You can have that kind of special relationship, if you're willing to go to a shelter and hang out until one of those cats gives you the stink eye and you hear in your head "Yo. You. Take me home. Now." That's what happened with us and Torbie.

Give a cat a chance. Introverts rule.