Sylvester has a new home
Wednesday, November 9th, 2022 10:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lizvogelOn January 8th, I was sitting innocently in the living room when one of my cats started yowling at the window, and I looked out to see another cat yelling back. I went out to say hi and see if he needed help, and he absolutely ran up to me and started all but climbing me to get petted. He was obviously somebody's, but his fur was matted enough that I figured he'd been out on his own for a while, so I took him in and ensconced him in the bathroom. I checked with the new neighbors down the road, but they weren't missing a cat. So I started the usual process of getting him vet-checked for anything contagious, making Found flyers, etc. And I gave him some toys, which was the Best Thing Ever; the little foam mousie in particular cemented his adoration of me and all my works.
Meanwhile word was getting around the neighborhood that the fellow who'd bought the horse farm up the road was missing his two barn cats. We finally connected, and the furball I'd been tentatively calling Sancho turned out to be Sylvester, who along with his brother Stallone had been walkabout for an unspecified time. So I handed him back, along with his new toys. And told myself that if his human handled him less like a beloved pet and more like an inconvenient object, perhaps he just wasn't emotional around other people.
The next day, Sylvester was back.
I called his owner, who came and got him again. Two hours later, Sylvester was back. I dropped him off on my way to work, his owner said he'd shut up the barn to keep him in, and that should have been that.
A week or so later, Sylvester was back.
I called his owner again, who responded with "This is too inconvenient. I'm taking him to the pound." Which, wtf? So I offered to keep him until I could find him a new home, which after some back and forth and some blaming me for "ruining it", we agreed on. (I never did get his toys back.)
Sylvester had the manners of someone who'd been raised in a barn, not surprisingly. He was very good about the litterbox, and he used his scratching pad once we figured out the kind he liked, but he didn't understand that he couldn't use teeth and claws on humans the way he had on his brother. So we had a lot of work to do there. He was never viscous, never bit hard enough to break the skin, but between the love bites and the play bites and the I'm-not-getting-what-I-want bites, it was rough going for quite a while. But we did finally get to the point where the nips were rare and gentler and stopped as soon as he realized what he was doing. And he stopped attacking my head every time he saw the top of it, which is good 'cause that got old fast; apparently my hair looked like an animal to pounce on?
He also had way too much energy to be cooped up in that bathroom all the time, so after a while we co-opted the housemate's bedroom, which had been emptied out so we could repair water damage from the leaky roof and do some other long-desired reno, as a kitty play room. This gave him room to run and chase Da Bird toys and leap about, at least for an hour or so a day.
I didn't expect to be able to get our cats to come around to a new housemate, given previous experience, but we gave it a try all the same. And for a while it looked like we might get there! Teh Kitten, in particular, got so he would bat paws through a cracked door. Eventually, he even came into the playroom on his own! He even laid down, washed, and used the litterbox in the same room with Sylvester. But every encounter still ended with Teh Kitten walking, or sometimes running, away, and Sylvester having to be prevented from chasing him. It eventually became clear that Teh Kitten wasn't warming to his new housemate, he was just screwing up his courage to make it clear to the interloper that this is *his* house and these are *his* humans, and the other cat doesn't get to have them. LittleGirl, meanwhile, had two settings: completely oblivious to Sylvester's existence, and hissing herself into a coughing fit every time she saw him and was reminded he was there. That, we didn't get any movement on at all. Even feeding treats on opposite sides of the screen door I installed didn't work; she would happily gobble the treats, and hiss herself to the choking point in between.
Sylvester started out by jumping in the other cats' faces -- not being aggressive, just really really wanting to play! -- but we eventually taught him to be more chill and let them meet him halfway. He was really good! If the others would have stood their ground, I think we could've gotten somewhere. But neither of them would, and, well, if they ran, Sylvester was going to chase. We couldn't do that to them (Teh Kitten is the world's least-dominant cat, and LittleGirl is 18 years old, mostly deaf, and has old bad history with another cat attacking her), so Sylvester needed a new home after all.
We asked around, asked our friends to ask around, hit up co-workers, etc., all to no avail. A couple of folks called, but meeting fell through for various reasons. After all our yo-yo-ing with Carlyle, I was reluctant to cast the net too wide, but I finally put up a flyer on the public board at the library. And one of our patrons saw it, who'd just finished an extended baby-sit of a friend's cat and was thinking his own cat missed the company and needed a new friend. He called Saturday, and Monday he came to meet Sylvester, and they hit it off great. Yesterday we took Sylvester over to see his place and meet his cat, and that went great too; Sylvester liked the house, his cat was just the right balance of this-is-my-turf and hey-you're-interesting. So, ten months to the day since he first turned up here, we unloaded Sylvester's vast collection of toys and stuff, gave him final hugs as best we could get his attention for, and left him at his new home.
(Of course, he didn't realize we were going until we'd gone, and then he ran to the window to look after us. It nearly broke my heart not to turn around and go back, but by the time we got the car started, he'd gone back to exploring his new abode.)
We just got a text from his new owner, with pictures of Sylvester (a) sprawling on the bed, and (b) sniffing noses with his new cat friend. I think this is going to be a very good fit.
I miss him; for all the challenges and inconvenience, Sylvester was just plain fun. He was always full of purrs when I draped him over my shoulder, and playing crinkle-ball catch or wiggling another toy behind the giant sheepskin ball until he somersaulted over it was a sure way to put a smile on my face. He loooooved his slicker brush, and if I went into the playroom when he was already there and got down on the floor, he would come over and head-butt me to show affection.
But he couldn't live in our bathroom forever, and now he has a whole, if small, house to run about in, and another cat to interact with, and his own human.
And we have our rooms back. I can feel myself starting to expand out into the house again; I hadn't realized how constrained I was by having to juggle every action around having to maintain an additional, entirely separate cat. A lot of things that have been on hold for most of a year can start moving again, not least the reno. And Teh Kitten seems happier already; it may be coincidence, but he's being extra-affectionate today.
Sylvester, I said you were going to make somebody a great pet. I'm sorry it wasn't me, but I'm glad we found the person it is. Thanks for being your ridiculously furry, friendly, goofball self.
Meanwhile word was getting around the neighborhood that the fellow who'd bought the horse farm up the road was missing his two barn cats. We finally connected, and the furball I'd been tentatively calling Sancho turned out to be Sylvester, who along with his brother Stallone had been walkabout for an unspecified time. So I handed him back, along with his new toys. And told myself that if his human handled him less like a beloved pet and more like an inconvenient object, perhaps he just wasn't emotional around other people.
The next day, Sylvester was back.
I called his owner, who came and got him again. Two hours later, Sylvester was back. I dropped him off on my way to work, his owner said he'd shut up the barn to keep him in, and that should have been that.
A week or so later, Sylvester was back.
I called his owner again, who responded with "This is too inconvenient. I'm taking him to the pound." Which, wtf? So I offered to keep him until I could find him a new home, which after some back and forth and some blaming me for "ruining it", we agreed on. (I never did get his toys back.)
Sylvester had the manners of someone who'd been raised in a barn, not surprisingly. He was very good about the litterbox, and he used his scratching pad once we figured out the kind he liked, but he didn't understand that he couldn't use teeth and claws on humans the way he had on his brother. So we had a lot of work to do there. He was never viscous, never bit hard enough to break the skin, but between the love bites and the play bites and the I'm-not-getting-what-I-want bites, it was rough going for quite a while. But we did finally get to the point where the nips were rare and gentler and stopped as soon as he realized what he was doing. And he stopped attacking my head every time he saw the top of it, which is good 'cause that got old fast; apparently my hair looked like an animal to pounce on?
He also had way too much energy to be cooped up in that bathroom all the time, so after a while we co-opted the housemate's bedroom, which had been emptied out so we could repair water damage from the leaky roof and do some other long-desired reno, as a kitty play room. This gave him room to run and chase Da Bird toys and leap about, at least for an hour or so a day.
I didn't expect to be able to get our cats to come around to a new housemate, given previous experience, but we gave it a try all the same. And for a while it looked like we might get there! Teh Kitten, in particular, got so he would bat paws through a cracked door. Eventually, he even came into the playroom on his own! He even laid down, washed, and used the litterbox in the same room with Sylvester. But every encounter still ended with Teh Kitten walking, or sometimes running, away, and Sylvester having to be prevented from chasing him. It eventually became clear that Teh Kitten wasn't warming to his new housemate, he was just screwing up his courage to make it clear to the interloper that this is *his* house and these are *his* humans, and the other cat doesn't get to have them. LittleGirl, meanwhile, had two settings: completely oblivious to Sylvester's existence, and hissing herself into a coughing fit every time she saw him and was reminded he was there. That, we didn't get any movement on at all. Even feeding treats on opposite sides of the screen door I installed didn't work; she would happily gobble the treats, and hiss herself to the choking point in between.
Sylvester started out by jumping in the other cats' faces -- not being aggressive, just really really wanting to play! -- but we eventually taught him to be more chill and let them meet him halfway. He was really good! If the others would have stood their ground, I think we could've gotten somewhere. But neither of them would, and, well, if they ran, Sylvester was going to chase. We couldn't do that to them (Teh Kitten is the world's least-dominant cat, and LittleGirl is 18 years old, mostly deaf, and has old bad history with another cat attacking her), so Sylvester needed a new home after all.
We asked around, asked our friends to ask around, hit up co-workers, etc., all to no avail. A couple of folks called, but meeting fell through for various reasons. After all our yo-yo-ing with Carlyle, I was reluctant to cast the net too wide, but I finally put up a flyer on the public board at the library. And one of our patrons saw it, who'd just finished an extended baby-sit of a friend's cat and was thinking his own cat missed the company and needed a new friend. He called Saturday, and Monday he came to meet Sylvester, and they hit it off great. Yesterday we took Sylvester over to see his place and meet his cat, and that went great too; Sylvester liked the house, his cat was just the right balance of this-is-my-turf and hey-you're-interesting. So, ten months to the day since he first turned up here, we unloaded Sylvester's vast collection of toys and stuff, gave him final hugs as best we could get his attention for, and left him at his new home.
(Of course, he didn't realize we were going until we'd gone, and then he ran to the window to look after us. It nearly broke my heart not to turn around and go back, but by the time we got the car started, he'd gone back to exploring his new abode.)
We just got a text from his new owner, with pictures of Sylvester (a) sprawling on the bed, and (b) sniffing noses with his new cat friend. I think this is going to be a very good fit.
I miss him; for all the challenges and inconvenience, Sylvester was just plain fun. He was always full of purrs when I draped him over my shoulder, and playing crinkle-ball catch or wiggling another toy behind the giant sheepskin ball until he somersaulted over it was a sure way to put a smile on my face. He loooooved his slicker brush, and if I went into the playroom when he was already there and got down on the floor, he would come over and head-butt me to show affection.
But he couldn't live in our bathroom forever, and now he has a whole, if small, house to run about in, and another cat to interact with, and his own human.
And we have our rooms back. I can feel myself starting to expand out into the house again; I hadn't realized how constrained I was by having to juggle every action around having to maintain an additional, entirely separate cat. A lot of things that have been on hold for most of a year can start moving again, not least the reno. And Teh Kitten seems happier already; it may be coincidence, but he's being extra-affectionate today.
Sylvester, I said you were going to make somebody a great pet. I'm sorry it wasn't me, but I'm glad we found the person it is. Thanks for being your ridiculously furry, friendly, goofball self.
