The Invisible Cat

My cat Roxy has a fun new habit – not all cat habits are fun, but this one is pretty cute.  When I’m working in my home office, and not providing adequate pets (her definition, not mine), she stands up and puts her front paws on my leg, and bats gently at me.  It’s cute partly because she doesn’t use her nails, and partly because I’m so proud of her for coming out and telling me she wants love.

It wasn’t always that way.  When Roxy and her brother came to us about two and a half years ago, she was a different cat.  Beautiful, but untouchable.  She spent weeks hiding behind the washing machine in their “safe integration room” (read: humongous bathroom).  Weeks.  We were pretty sure she came out to eat and to use the litter box, but it sure wasn’t until AFTER that door had closed.

I’m pretty hands-on with my cats, and I was certainly was glad that her brother welcomed snuggles.  I tried hard to be patient.  After several weeks, she remained sitting in the provided box (a cat necessity) when we came in with cat food.  She hissed and growled, but didn’t hide.  Small, but progress. It took a few more weeks before she could be touched, and I felt so honoured when she didn’t try and swat me away.  As I approached, I noticed that while she was still hissing and growling, she was also visibly trembling. I spoke softly, telling her what a wonderful girl she was, and how much we loved her.  She permitted a pet without lashing out, and I didn’t push my luck.  As the weeks went on, she continued with the threatening noises, but gradually stopped trembling, and allowed more pets.  My first great reward with her was after our vet (who sees the cats at our home) left after their first checkup.  She was a little traumatized, and trembling, curled up against the wall.  Big green eyes watched me as I slowly approached her, and she not only arched into pets, but gave me some purrs.

One thing we already knew was that Roxy hadn’t yet been fixed, and so we made an appointment for her to be spayed – at over four years old, it was well past time.  But when we took her in for the surgery, the vet made a surprising and heartbreaking discovery: Roxy had a grossly enlarged uterus, and appeared to have been in heat continuously for a long time, possibly since her first heat around six months.  No wonder the poor little girl was crusty and afraid!  I felt even more privileged that she had trusted me even then.

After Roxy’s surgery, we started to notice changes – first off, of course, she wasn’t in pain!  She wasn’t immediately an entirely different cat, but differences came quickly.  She spent less time hiding, occasionally approached for pets, and was less antagonistic with most of the other cats.  There was also a substantial decrease in hissing and growling. 

A few months later, she hopped up on me for the first time to have snuggles.  Now, I’m the first to say that cat snuggles are wonderful, but we still petted Roxy pretty cautiously, and stayed aware of the claws she didn’t yet hesitate to use.  So this caught me by surprise, and I was a little concerned.  Naturally, she chose to snuggle in to the shoulder on which I’d had surgery only a week before, with my arm still in a sling.  So I’m one-handed here, immobilized, with a purring and drooling cat lying on my healing arm.  On her back, tummy (and all claws!) fully exposed.  Her squirmings gave a clear indication that she’d really like some tummy pets (or at least, she thought so at that moment).  Anyone who’s had cats knows that the tummy is a risky zone.  You might get to pet.  You might get a large volume of cat claws sunk into your hand/arm/any other available part.  You might get a pet or two, and then claws. 

Regardless, I was tempted to use my one good arm to try to pet that huge, fluffy tummy.  I did, and learned that one of Roxy’s favourite things is tummy pets.  She purred and drooled harder, and we had our first snuggle.  My healing arm was a little sore when she finally moved – Roxy’s a fairly large cat at about 17lbs – but it was definitely worth it!

It’s been two years since the first snuggle, and Roxy still likes to come up and have snuggles with me from time to time – her time, not mine, of course.  What she likes even more is to follow me around the house when I work from home, and throw herself on the floor in front of me to tempt me with that soft tummy. 

She’s handled subsequent vet visits, a move, and my various mobility devices over the last couple of years fairly well, and is currently growing out a lion cut needed by some of the knots in her undercoat.  Despite the “mellowing drugs” provided by our vet to facilitate the lion cut, she wasn’t thrilled with the procedure, but is absolutely rocking this.  Her favourite aspect?  Lion cuts mean MUCH shorter fur on most of her body – which means CLOSER PETS.  The first time she received pets on the lion fur, she just stopped and stared at me with this wonderful “OMG how did you do that?!” look, and has added leaning on my leg to her repertoire of snuggles.

Roxy still has some skittish moments, and sometimes reverts to the “when in doubt, panic” mode, but her growth and development have been incredibly rewarding.  She’s gone from an untouchable cat to one who even occasionally greets strangers, adores her humans, and thrives on tummy rubs, snuggles, and catnip.  She’s come a long way in learning to trust us, and we’re making some progress in learning to trust her.

So what are the lessons from Roxy’s story?  I think hers are pretty clear – life isn’t all about pain, humans aren’t (necessarily) a threat, and it’s good to be loved and have snuggles.  Mine?  Some things are hard and require a lot of perseverance (and some bandages).  In the long run, though, the rewards are worth it.  I’ve also applied some of Roxy’s lessons to myself in working to trust more and find my own space.  They’re good lessons.