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Monday 7 November 2011

On His Terms

When my daughter's room-mate married, she asked me if she could move into my apartment for awhile and bring with her a cat that she had acquired from an acquaintance.

"Tito is a good cat," she assured me, "he won't be any trouble.  He is rather shy."

Tito turned out to be an extremely handsome cat with charcoal gray fir, a white chest, and the brightest pair of constantly alert yellow-green eyes.  Somebody suggested that Tito had Russian Blue in him but we never knew for sure.

True to my daughter's word, Tito was no  trouble but there was a reason for that.  He had been abused as a kitten and was afraid of people, especially men, and so he spent his time hiding under a bed.  He had warmed up to my daughter because she has a way with animals and because he enjoyed her pampering him.  He allowed her to do anything to him that was necessary for his well being.  He even allowed her to give him a bath although he protested loudly.  With me it was a totally different story.

I should have known from the beginning that I would end up looking after Tito.  My daughter had a busy work schedule, lots of friends, and was much involved in music at the church she attended so I was usually the first one home in the late afternoon.  That cat constantly greeted me at the door with snarls and hisses.  When I managed to lure him out of his hiding place to be fed, he would slash out at me with his claws when I placed his dish of food before him.  Many times I ended up with scratches on my hand and the food spilt on the floor.

This stalemate lasted more than six months and I began to despair if Tito and I would ever be friends.  What I found particularly galling was that my daughter found my trials with Tito amusing.  And Tito would aggravate the situation by coming out of his hiding place the minute she got home and sit contentedly purring on her lap .  A friend of mine with several cats told me friendship with Tito would come on his terms and all I could do was to be patient.

One evening I was watching television when Tito came over to the sofa and jumped up beside me.  Much to my surprise, he crawled onto my lap and sat there pleased with himself.  My joy at this at- long-last display of affection was short lived.  I made the mistake of stroking his back and he responded by biting my hand and running away.  It was days before he would come near me again.

That, however, was the beginning of a mellowing process in that cat.  Tito started coming to sit on my lap  and he eventually allowed me to pet him.  When I was working at my computer and he wanted attention, he would jump up on the desk and rub his head against my arm.  I soon could open the sliding door onto the balcony and he would go out and lie in the afternoon sun or sniff the flowers growing in pots on the balcony.  This soon became his favorite spot.

He began to exhibit the curiosity of a cat and display what I would term normal cat behavior.  He showed interest in a big brown squirrel that occasionally ventured onto the balcony looking for peanuts.  Birds and butterflies attracted his attention.  The neighbors had a cat that sat on their balcony and the two of them 'talked' to each other.  He got to the stage that when friends came to visit, he would come out to see them, especially my son and his girlfriend.

As I said, Tito never got into trouble.  I had an aquarium with some large goldfish.  I half expected to come home one day and find one missing.  Tito liked watching them.  His tail would twitch with excitement but he never, as far as I know, attempted to go fishing.

At Christmas, when the tree was  being decorated, he played with the lights and the garlands of beads as they were being strung but once the decorations were on the tree,he left them alone.  His favorite toy was a plastic ball with a jingle bell inside.  He would chase it around the room and make a point of bringing it out from his hiding place when he wanted someone to play with him.

My daughter eventually moved to her own place again and took Tito with her.  I warned her that Tito would likely revert to his former behavior and that is exactly what happened.  When I saw him again, he hissed at me as if I were a complete stranger and he would not let me near him.  He never warmed up to my daughter's new room-mate.

I will admit that I enjoyed having Tito around my apartment.  I learned that emotionally wounded animals will respond to kindness over time.  He made it so obvious by the way that he would sit at the open door of the bedroom that he wanted to come out and be part of what was happening around him but fear held him back.  Only as he understood that he was not going to be hurt, did he start coming out of himself.  I like to think that I made a small difference in his life even though that friendship was on his terms.



My only photo of Tito

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