by Noella Noelophile®
(Royalty-free image by Pascal from Pixabay.)
“He’ll probably never be a ‘cuddly’ cat.”
That’s what the vet said, just over a year ago, about the new feral feline we’d just adopted.
We’d had an interesting time getting him into a cat carrier, to bring him in. Cat-handler gloves and an episode of growling and striking out, like a snake with claws, were included in the adventure.
“Serenade”, as mentioned in last year’s post, is a pure-black, long-haired kitty.
He’s also an animal whose demeanor has done a complete about-face, since he’s been with us.
(Royalty-free image by Claudia from Pixabay.)
For the first few months, whenever we came into his room to feed him, he’d hide. If he were feeling especially social, he’d respond to an inquiry of, “Serenade?” with a hiss.
Gradually, he began to come out and eat when we were there–keeping a watchful eye out for any false moves.
A sudden move of any kind, a few steps towards him or anything new, and…
“HISSSSS!”
Then, suddenly, things began to change.
(Royalty-free image by thelandoffey from Pixabay.)
I came into his room one evening, and was talking to the bookcase. (No, I do not normally communicate with furniture–but that was his hiding place of choice.)
Then, all at once, from behind me, came…
“Meow.”
And there he was, in the window, looking at me. As though to say, “Lady, will you get with the program? I’m over here now!”
Things progressed from there.
(Royalty-free image by ivabalk from Pixabay.)
Serenade began to allow me to sit nearby as he ate–but not to look at him directly. A helpful online article, about feral cats and bringing one in, had warned that they find direct eye contact a threat.
Consequently, every time he’d look up from his bowl, I’d look away quickly.
And blink my eyes slowly if our eyes met–as a blink, vets say, communicates friendship to a cat.
Serenade seemed to get the message. And he had a surprise communication of his own.
One evening in December, he brushed his back against the bookcase, full-length, like an affectionate cat rubbing against someone’s legs.
Then, he took it further.
(Royalty-free image by Daga Roszkowska, from Pixabay.)
Flopping down on the rug, he began to roll back and forth, exposing his belly.
Could our “feral” cat actually be beginning to communicate, “I think I can trust you”?
The rolling and belly-exposing became a regular behavior. He would also come up and do a full-body brush against me.
But he wasn’t sure what petting was, and would look startled, back away or hiss. A few steps too close to him, or a behavior he hadn’t seen before, and “hissss!” was still his go-to communication.
Gradually, those responses began to disappear.
(Royalty-free image by Don Weir from Pixabay.)
The day came when my husband, who didn’t realize he couldn’t pet Serenade, reached over and petted his head.
To my amazement, our “fierce” cat began purring. Within days, if he were petted and we stopped, he’d reach out a paw–ever so gently, with sheathed claws–and tap to be petted again.
Today, Serenade is curled up in the middle of the bed. He will come right over for cat treats (which he’ll eat out of our hands), meow softly when he sees my husband or me, and is easily one of the most affectionate animals we’ve ever had. Besides tapping with his paw for petting, he’ll come up and give “cat kisses”–touching his nose to my chin and leaning against me.
“Fierce, feral cat”, right?
Happy Black Cat Awareness Month. We’re aware that our special black kitty understands the power of being loved.