Let Go: From Hate to Hope For Cats (and People) Who Bite
(3-minute read)
Annie suns on my porch. Oh to be able to pet her without a tooth involved.
“Annie is a biter,” warned the Animal Shelter volunteer. “Not good with people. Would you reconsider? We have plenty of other cats.”
Could I let go of my repulsion and believe change was possible for a biting cat? Well, with Annie, I was about to find out.
“A Problem Cat”
Declawing cats is outlawed in several states, but the news never got to Annie’s owners. Defenseless, she had been using her teeth to avoid people for 3 years now. When her owner died on Christmas, she was truly alone. And even his home hospice nurse, who had fed Annie for 3 months, complained, “She still swipes and bites me if I try to pet her”.
“A Beloved Cat”
Muschi died unexpectedly, and as I grieved her loss, all the love we shared spilled into a desire to revisit a Shelter like the one where we’d met.
It seems the “Problem Cat” and I had things in common. Losing a partner, for one. She’d lost her Person, and I’d lost my Pet. Maybe that’s why I was up for the challenge of befriending this wild beast called Annie.
On the way from the Shelter, the howling from the crate raised the hackles of my neck (my friend was obviously braver).
I consider myself a seasoned cat owner. Which also means I know how to adopt a Shelter cat.
If it’s a “match”, the signs are very clear. Good eye contact, for starters. I’ve walked away from many a Shelter without a new friend. But in the case of Annie the hissing calico, nothing was very clear.
When the Shelter Animal Trainer explained Annie’s history of declawing, she said, “I have hope about this cat”. Really? I stared into the cage; her growling was formidable! I’d never seen a cat more vocal and nasty than this.
Still, while my friend was rotating around to the other cats in the room, I stuck there and listened as Annie’s advocate explained what I was seeing:
Annie was a growler, but something else was happening.
“She is showing conflicted messages. Her pupils are dilated (fear), but her ears are forward (trust). She’s hissing (fear), but her paws are stretched forward (trust).”
What a puzzle!
She actually sounded a lot like me, when I was recovering from my divorce. (But that’s another story.)
Still, my fears took over. I can’t adopt a cat I am afraid to hold in my arms, I thought, so I hiked myself out of there.
But after an hour of talking it over with my friend — who seemed strangely confident that Annie and I were a match made in heaven — I returned to adopt her.
Instant purring, chirping, and friendliness the moment I opened the cage. What a surprise!
What changed? My story about “problem cats”. I listened to the advice of a realistically hopeful expert. I made the decision that patience, and confidence in a good outcome, might turn Annie around.
Calicos are stubborn little things. The learning curve was steep, don’t get me wrong. That inevitable first bite caught me unawares — I was only reaching to caress her and she drew blood.
But there were no more chances of bites happening again. I was vigilant about doing her rehab the right way.
3 Minutes after entering my home, she was affectionate and seemingly grateful. My hope grew stronger.
I always waited for her to approach. I equated my fingers with food and a loving voice. And I waited some more. When we were nuzzling (well, she was in control), I paired my strokes with a calming voice.
Breakthrough
12 hours after bringing Annie home, she began to sleep in my arms, and would every night from that day forward.
It took me 3 months to set the big changes in Annie into motion. Although she sees my hand as something to bite, she doesn’t go after me unless I approach her without warning. And when she chooses me and sits on my lap she never bites.
My journey continues. Annie’s visible differences reaffirm a change in me, too. I am not the person was before, either.
And all of it comes from letting go of preconceptions, listening to wiser people, and making a place for hope.
If I can change the mind of a little nugget -sized cat brain, how much can my own mind be changed by someone?
That person would have to be committed to my best interests. They would have to be patient. They would have to be forgiving.
It sounds a lot like my own efforts to care about my well-being. And it sounds like my friends, who support me. And God.
Like Annie, the change must be working. It’s been quite a while since the days when I was biting people.
