Sunday, December 16, 2007
Gertrude the House Cat
After her kittens were weaned, Gertrude was spayed as planned. Just getting her into the carrier each time she needed to go to the veterinarian proved a challenge. But after much hissing, spitting and snarling, she could usually be forced into the carrier.
After the stitches from the spay were out, it was time to make a decision about Gertrude, put her outside or let her be a house cat, a not very happy house cat it seemed from her demeanor in the cage. We compromised. For now, Gertrude would stay in the house. We would see how she liked it and make a decision later.
Released from the cage, Gertrude did not go and hide as expected. She first conducted a survey of the house, hissing at any of the other cats that approached. I noticed something immediately, every cat gave ground to Gertrude. Matter of fact, they gave her about five feet. Even Gertrude's kittens avoided her, instead choosing their uncle, Horatio, for comfort. (Horatio was a much better mother than Gertrude. Always willing to groom the kittens and let the play with his tail. He was never ill-tempered.) Gertrude was always ill-tempered, swatting a kitten if it got too close. She seemed to reason that they were weaned, she had done her duty, that was that.
Gertrude settled into the household routine. She was no problem except we couldn't touch her. Then one day I made a momentous discovery. I was combing Horatio, who absolutely adored attention. Gertrude was on the arm of a nearby chair. I finished combing Horatio and leaned over and did a quick stroke down Gertrude's back. I don't know what I expected, but Gertrude surprised me, she raised her rear slightly obviously asking for more. I combed her again. She loved it. She let me comb her back and her head, but when I tried for her chin, the Gertrude of old returned. With a hiss, she jumped back, one paw raised to take swipe at me if I tried that again. I did not.
Over time, Gertrude relaxed more when it came to grooming and petting. My mother made a point of always petting and talking to Gertrude when she walked through the room or sat down to watch television. This paid off. Gertrude now comes to her for petting. However, Gertrude is no lap kitty.
I can pick Gertrude up now. But its sort of like picking up a large, lit firecracker. You hope you can put it down before it explodes. Generally, our contact with Gertrude consists of combing, petting and scratching her head. She has decided Mother is her person, so she sleeps on her bed.
We've decided to keep Gerturde as an indoor only cat. The other cats still give her five feet, except for one male to whom she has taking a fancy. Unfortunately, her temper has not improved, just the other day she threw a screaming fit when Jor, an old black cat, had the audacity to try to sit on the same chair she was occupying. Her eyes still show that lurking insanity that I have come to know is a trademark of Scruffy's kittens.
After the stitches from the spay were out, it was time to make a decision about Gertrude, put her outside or let her be a house cat, a not very happy house cat it seemed from her demeanor in the cage. We compromised. For now, Gertrude would stay in the house. We would see how she liked it and make a decision later.
Released from the cage, Gertrude did not go and hide as expected. She first conducted a survey of the house, hissing at any of the other cats that approached. I noticed something immediately, every cat gave ground to Gertrude. Matter of fact, they gave her about five feet. Even Gertrude's kittens avoided her, instead choosing their uncle, Horatio, for comfort. (Horatio was a much better mother than Gertrude. Always willing to groom the kittens and let the play with his tail. He was never ill-tempered.) Gertrude was always ill-tempered, swatting a kitten if it got too close. She seemed to reason that they were weaned, she had done her duty, that was that.
Gertrude settled into the household routine. She was no problem except we couldn't touch her. Then one day I made a momentous discovery. I was combing Horatio, who absolutely adored attention. Gertrude was on the arm of a nearby chair. I finished combing Horatio and leaned over and did a quick stroke down Gertrude's back. I don't know what I expected, but Gertrude surprised me, she raised her rear slightly obviously asking for more. I combed her again. She loved it. She let me comb her back and her head, but when I tried for her chin, the Gertrude of old returned. With a hiss, she jumped back, one paw raised to take swipe at me if I tried that again. I did not.
Over time, Gertrude relaxed more when it came to grooming and petting. My mother made a point of always petting and talking to Gertrude when she walked through the room or sat down to watch television. This paid off. Gertrude now comes to her for petting. However, Gertrude is no lap kitty.
I can pick Gertrude up now. But its sort of like picking up a large, lit firecracker. You hope you can put it down before it explodes. Generally, our contact with Gertrude consists of combing, petting and scratching her head. She has decided Mother is her person, so she sleeps on her bed.
We've decided to keep Gerturde as an indoor only cat. The other cats still give her five feet, except for one male to whom she has taking a fancy. Unfortunately, her temper has not improved, just the other day she threw a screaming fit when Jor, an old black cat, had the audacity to try to sit on the same chair she was occupying. Her eyes still show that lurking insanity that I have come to know is a trademark of Scruffy's kittens.
# posted by January Cat @ 11:58 AM 
