Cat Whisperer

There have been many animals in my life. When I was a child we had a hobby farm (just over an acre) just outside city limits where my father kept cats, dogs, chickens, geese, turkeys, bees, and for a while, a milk cow. My father's gentle nature showed in his compassionate dealing with all animals, and we either learned it from him or it came in our genes.

I never remember when there was not a cat who was "my cat". As a child, I had many times where I felt completely unloved and alone due to the fat prejudice I experienced, but I always had my cat to curl up with, to purr out his/her appreciation for me, just the way I was.

I have learned to be a good friend to cats. I know how to touch them in the way that makes them very, very happy. I understand them. I can read their moods and needs to an amazing degree. I have adopted a number of cats who have had difficult lives and have had the physical and psychological scars to show for it. I've never yet met a cat I couldn't tame or convince to trust me in the end.

I celebrated the coming of 2007 by adopting a senior cat from the local SPCA. I chose a big, white male cat named Pussums because of his calm, laid back way of dealing with the other cats at the shelter. He is a great addition to our household. I like to have two cats. It feels better than having only one, especially if I am away a lot, working. Pussums has settled in with us very nicely. He likes his own space, and is happy to give Leisha hers. He is quite playful for his age, 10. I've noticed that if we initiate some games that soon Leisha is there wanting to play too, inspite of her age, 14.

Each cat I have known has their own completely distinct personality. I continue to be amazed by this again and again. Leisha, is a domestic long hair, bi-colour black and white. She has long, soft, silky hair which until recently she has kept immaculate without any help from me. She has long clumps of fur sticking out between her toes, and the longest whiskers I've ever seen on a cat.

Leisha's personality suites her completely. She has the softest, gentlest nature of any cat I have known. When she reaches out to get your attention, its with one soft paw which gently taps you. Its adorable. And yet, she is not the cat which whom I have been most bonded. This is because another aspect of her personality makes her just a little bit aloof. She likes to maintain her dignity, although she will let it drop a little if there is no one else around to see. She's the "princess", the Queen. For a while her nickname was Miss Priss.

In January 2006 we lost her previous companion, a domestic white & tabby neutered tom, Patches, to Feline Leukaemia. While I was inconsolable, her personality has bloomed since she's been an only cat. He was quite dominant with her, and definitely suppressed her personality. She now interacts much more with me, and anyone who comes into my house.

It was such a shock to loose a cat to FeLuk. It had never happened to me before, and I had assumed that Patches was protected by vacinations. It was my understanding that he had been adopted from the SPCA, which should have meant he had his first shots. He was not yet two when the neighbers moved away leaving him behind, and as soon as I had tamed him, I had him neutered and vacinated again. Perhaps he never had the boosters he should have had as a kitten, or perhaps he was one of the small number of animals for which the vaccinations don't work.

Patches was one of the most affectionate cats I have ever known and I was constantly amazed by his willingness to totally trust me even though his first people had heartlessly abandoned him. He was a blessing in my life, full of unconditional love. I wished more than once I could kiss him like a frog and turn him into my Prince. Here he is, on the fireplace mantle, trying desperately to look cool in the presence of the large German Shepherd who was visiting.

This cat was named Sam. He came with that name from a independent no-kill shelter run by a woman I met at the mall. He'd been at that shelter more than a year, because Sam was a cat with an attitude. He had been abused at some point, and had learned to fight back. He bit, and scratched. The woman from the shelter was very reluctant to let me touch him when I was looking at cats there. She only agreed when I assured her I had a lot of experience with cats. He bit me. I was stunned, and stood there holding him with the blood running down my hand not knowing what to do. I told her I had to think about the situation, and over the next week realized that no one else was ever going to adopt him. So I did.

I came to see that his behaviour was all about fear. He would cringe if your hand moved anywhere in his direction. Then he would attack. It took months of work. I had to learn to resist the urge to strike back when he bit me, and instead, stay with him and reassure him that no one was going to hurt him. He bit me, he bit my friends. I would warn them, "Don't touch that cat, he bites". But they did anyway -- and -- eventually he got it. He came to understood that no one was ever going to hurt him again. After a couple of years he became a completely approachable cat. He would do the round of all the laps if I had company over. I think he was making up for all the petting time he missed in his early life. The vet thought he was about four when he came to live with me. I had him until he died at a ripe old age.

Another cat who lived with me was a "found" kitten we called Marco Polo. I wrote down his story because he was such a special little cat. I tried to write this story in the style of someone telling a story out loud to a child. You can read it here.