The Three Cat-Ateers - How Three Shelter Animals Came to Find Love and Each Other
Chessie was tense and frightened from the first moment I saw her. My son’s girlfriend had decided that since she didn’t have money to buy him a Christmas gift, a New York shelter kitty would do.
At four months-or-so old, Chessie was a classic female tabby who reportedly had been abused by her previous owner. The crook in her tail told a little about her abuse; her absolute terror at the sight or sound of anyone and everyone told more. The slightest noise sent her running, most especially the sound of male voices and heavy shoes and the rattling of newspapers and plastic bags.
Because my son had work and school-and a girlfriend-to attend to, Chessie was given over to my care. Slowly, over a period of time, she came to trust me and allow me to hold and love her. Other people, though, continued to send her scurrying, usually to hide inside my bed’s spring which she accessed through the now-shredded outer covering.
Enter C.B., a quiet little cat, full of curiosity-the Connecticut Humane Society told me she was about two years old, but I guessed closer to 18 months. C.B., another tabby, was interested in everyone and everything. She liked to be held and cuddled and rarely spoke-a meek squeak if at all. The two cats got along all right, somewhere between tolerating each other and mild acceptance. We questioned where she came from, how she found her way to the shelter. She was so loving and well-behaved that we imagined she must have come from a home where she was loved and where the family must have been forced by circumstances to give her up. Otherwise, we wondered, why was she placed into a shelter?
Following the death of my mother, circumstances dictated that I move to Virginia, and there my apartment would permit me to keep only one cat. My sister and her shelter dog, Sasha, lived close by, and she agreed to adopt one of my cats. I chose to send C.B. to her as I believed Chessie would have more difficulty making such a major change.
My sister had adopted two-year-old Sasha nine years previously from the Norfolk (Va.) SPCA. Sasha had a shocking history of abuse and neglect, suffering from sarcoptic mange on her head and on both ears. She didn’t know how to play and was not house-trained. Shortly after her adoption, this eight-pound toy poodle/miniature schnauzer mix developed a severe respiratory infection and the veterinarian declared her too weak for spaying. The infection hung on and two veterinarians gently suggested she be put to sleep.
Not to be deterred, my sister was determined to save Sasha. With constant love and caring, she carried Sasha around in her arms, all the while giving reassuring messages to the dog no one else wanted. My sister was determined to give Sasha a home and a life where she would have no worries and no cares and would never again be afraid.
Then C.B. arrived.
All Sasha knew of cats was that they were “outside” animals who needed to hear a bark now and then to remind them whose yard this really was. I wondered how she would accept an “inside” cat intruding into her home space and how C.B. would respond to this shaggy black non-cat who quickly charmed her way into everyone’s heart.
Arriving in a carrier, C.B. quickly decided there was no reason to remain there. We had placed her carrier in a bedroom and within 15 minutes of arriving, C.B. made her way to the living room where she came face to face with Sasha. A quick woof and a kitty paw in the air and there was a stalemate. Clearly there was no winner; there was no loser. Each held her own and watched and considered the other until, within days, C.B. began following Sasha around and lying very close-not touching, but very close. Within months, the two of them started sharing Sasha’s blue blanket and soon thereafter they began touching noses gently together, kissing. They were best friends. C.B. now had a dog and Sasha had a cat.
Meanwhile, things in my life had become such that my sister encouraged me to move in with her and Sasha and C.B., and I was to bring Chessie along, too.
Now, I was really worried about that. C.B. and Sasha had established a good relationship with each other, and I didn’t want to upset that. Chessie was still very frightened of strange people, strange sounds, strange everything, I questioned whether the move would be good for anyone.
When we arrived at my sister’s house, I placed Chessie in her carrier in a bedroom as I had done with C.B. and opened the carrier door. I sat and talked with her for awhile and then went into the living room to be with my sister and Sasha and C.B. I expected it to be days, maybe weeks, before-or even if-Chessie would venture to join us.
Within a couple of hours, we spotted Chessie walking slowing, gingerly, carefully down the long hall from the bedroom to the living room. Once there, she walked behind furniture until she spotted a tall display case that offered a safe vantage point to observe her new surroundings. There were a couple of leafy potted plants to provide cover. A quick leap and she was “safe”.
For months, with the exception of trips to the litter box and trips onto a kitchen bakers-rack-turned-plant-stand which she had decided was a safe place to eat her meals, Chessie sat on the display case and watched closely-very closely-every move, every action, every behavior exhibited by her two new friends, Sasha and C.B. She stared intently, her head moving almost imperceptibly to follow them, and her eyes dilating or constricting, depending on the action. We could almost see her “thinking and considering” her options. When Chessie was lower to the ground, Sasha’s sudden movement or a look her way often occasioned a hiss and a paw slap. Watch out! Chessie was intrigued, but cautious, and she still did not approach Sasha.
Generally, at night, Sasha slept in my sister’s bedroom, leaving her crate in the living room empty. One night as I was watching television, I saw Chessie come down from the display case and slowly approach the crate. I saw her trembling as she moved toward the crate, but she was determined to see and smell the crate up close and she kept going. To get a sniff of Sasha.
My sister is particularly good when talking to our animals. She talks to them much the way you would talk to a young child, not in a baby-talk way, but in a soothing, calming, and encouraging manner. She repeats the same words over and over again, in the same tone, to call them to eat, for example. When we have a thunderstorm and the cats become frightened, she speaks to them gently and eases their fears. During those months that Chessie sat on the display case, my sister often reassured Chessie that things were okay, things were fine, that she was safe.
Now, nearly three years after Chessie joined her two shelter sisters, things are going well. Chessie and C.B. often play together, running the length of the hall, first one way and then the other. They sniff each other and Sasha, and wait patiently together to be fed. They take turns watching birds through the glass front door, Chessie and C.B. or C.B. and Sasha.
I still catch Chessie watching Sasha, still trying to figure out this funny-looking “cat”. Chessie and Sasha sniff each other, wanting and still trying to get to know each other. They may never be as close as C.B. and Sasha, but that they care so much for each other already is wonderful. And the amazing thing is that they did it all themselves. We permitted them to progress to this point using their own strengths, neither pushing them beyond their abilities, nor inhibiting their innate curiosity and sociability. They are extraordinary animals.
Not every instance of integrating new animals in with old goes as well or as smoothly as our experience. Our three animals each had their own histories and backgrounds, what some people refer to as “baggage”. For whatever reason-and with our determination to allow them to come to a common ground on their own strengths-our three girls were able to resolve their differences and have become fast friends.
For those planning to adopt a new animal when they already have an animal, Rachel Demanchick, Adoption Center Supervisor of the Norfolk (Va.) SPCA suggests the following:
If you are bringing a cat into a dog household, leave the cat alone in a room with food, fresh water, toys, and access to a litter box. Spend some time with the cat, initially and intermittently, talking and encouraging her. She will explore the space and will come out to other areas at her own pace.
If you’re bringing a dog into a situation where there are already-established cats, introduce the dog on a leash. Cats can take a longer time to adapt to new animals in their environment, so allow the introduction to proceed slowly. Speak to the animals in a calm soothing voice, using both their names. Praise both animals when they are around each other without conflict.
Animals sense your emotions and it’s important that you act with authority and confidence. Don’t shower all your love and attention on the new animal. The older resident animal does need to know he or she is not being replaced in your affections. Get your new puppy enrolled in puppy classes right away.
A cat’s first reaction to a new situation is likely to be to hiss and/or to run. This is normal and is not a cause for alarm. If the cat swats the dog on the nose, don’t punish the cat. Sometimes one swat is all it takes to establish the ground rules. If the dog responds aggressively with barking or growling, distract him or her with a toy.
The cat must have a place of safety that the dog cannot access. In Chessie’s case, she had the top of the display case. This may mean using a baby gate or a small cat door to a room. This allows the animal a safe space in which to cool off.
Make a “bed” out of a towel for the cat to sleep on. Once she has slept on it, remove it and replace it with another. Bring the “used” towel out for the dog to smell and get used to the cat’s scent. Likewise, place a towel or other items in the dog’s usual sleeping area and later take that into the cat’s area to permit a stress-free way to familiarize the cat with the scent of the dog.
With some planning you can successfully bring together pets from wildly-disparate backgrounds. You will save an animal’s life and will be helping-one animal at a time-to bring an end to America’s homeless animal problem.
Deborah Clark Ebel is a registered psychiatric nurse and the author of The Forgotten Future: Adolescents in Crisis.
http://www.debebel.com
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