Transitions

One thing I have most certainly learned from almost seven years working in Cat-Dad's feline rescue/foster home is that miracles do happen. Miracles in the shape of transitions from totally feral cats to wonderful companions who then help us to rescue their preordained forever people.

One such story is that of my friend Charlotte, a beautiful brown and black tortoiseshell cat. Both she and her sister Darla came to us from the streets when they were only six months old. How I remember when they arrived, both were terrified of humans and other cats alike. All they had had was each other and fiercely they clung together for support.

Months passed and seemingly little progress was made, their fear being some of the strongest I'd seen. Yet all the while kindness was chipping away at their defenses. Noel was actually the first to break through, and then shortly after they accepted me as being safe. Humans however were a completely different story, and it would be many more months before that would change.

But change it eventually did as Cat-Dad patiently and consistently worked with both sisters. Trust it is said is built one brick at a time, slowly and methodically to create a beautiful structure to last a lifetime. And so it was with Charlotte. Eventually she became a regular, joining Noel and me at night to sleep in Cat-Dad's bed, then in his office as he worked. One day she just jumped into his lap to give him her purrs, and the last remnants of the wall came down. Charlotte is now one of the most loving, physical, lap-sitting cats we have seen and the complete opposite of when she arrived.


Each of us passes through the phases of our life and are strongly affected and influenced by situations in which we find ourselves. However, Cat-Dad has taught us to live in what he terms day-tight compartments,* meaning one day at a time. In this way we are encouraged to not dwell on the past, nor worry about the future. Our spirits can heal and though kindness and love we allow new relationships to form. It is with this thinking that in our home all constantly work to create miracles of transition for those who come to us in need.

With purrs to all,

Sasha
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Although you cannot go back and make a brand new start my friend, anybody can start from now and make a brand new end.
- John C. Maxwell

* Dale Carnegie - How to Stop Worrying and Start Living

The Price of Fear

It's often been said that humans are born with only two innate fears, that of falling and of loud noises. All others are simply learned responses. And while I wouldn't think falling is a fear we cats necessarily have (we worked that one out centuries ago being always able to land on our feet), we do share a human dislike and fear of loud noises. Beyond that, cats are subject to a variety of other learned emotions, and nowhere will you find a greater variety of these than in a feline rescue/foster home. Our patients and residents come to us with histories of abuse, human betrayal, and hardship - all difficult, emotion stimulating experiences. These learned and unnatural fears suck the joy out of life and can condemn both cats and humans to living life at half its potential.

And so it is with my friend, Scotty.


Scotty was brought to this safe environment four long years ago with severe emotional disturbances. I remember as just a kitten admiring him for his beautiful fur and hoping that one day mine could be so soft and luxuriant. This cat was originally from the streets, where he'd been existing on the outskirts of a feral colony, stealing bits of their food to survive. But never was he accepted into the group. The notches torn into his right ear bear witness to the reception he often received from other cats. As a kitten, such rejection cemented within him the permanent deep-seated fear of others, and that is the singular reason why he still remains in foster care today. For all these years, Cat-Dad and eventually I, too, worked with Scotty attempting to break through that wall of emotion to demonstrate the wonderful loving relationship that is possible between feline and human.

The going has been tortuous and slow, but a strange milestone has now been reached. In his mind, Scotty has developed an unusual dichotomy. Fearful of humans by day, at night he is the first to respond to Cat-Dad’s call when the lights are dimmed for sleep. Here, in the dark, a flood of pent up warmth and affection is released, on cats and Cat-Dad alike. This behavior confirms that our efforts have not been in vain, and also that such deep-seated trauma will eventually be healed.

Yet when daylight comes, the terrible memories and old fears return.

In this home we teach the truth that while pain in life is inevitable, suffering is a characteristic always within our control. How desirous we are of helping Scotty to reach that total trust upon which is built true feline-human relationships. But for now, despite everything he is choosing not to have, we accept him for who he is. Cat-Dad and I will continue to work toward that time when Scotty can find his forever human and no longer feel the need to pay the price of fear.

With purrs to all,

Sasha
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Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is.
- German Proverb

The Mark of Respect

On this first day in North America of Ramadan 2009, it seems fitting to recognize the relationship which the Muslim world has always had with felines.

Respect for all animals is a fundamental tenet of the Islamic Faith, and this is underscored by the Prophet Mohammad's deep love for cats. One legend widely circulated describes an incident where a deadly snake had crawled into the Prophet's robes but was quickly killed by his tabby cat, Muezza. Ever grateful, one day when Mohammad awoke for prayers, he noticed Muezza sleeping on his sleeve. Rather than disturb the cat, he cut the sleeve from his robe and allowed him to remain while he attended prayers. Upon the Prophet's return, Muezza woke and bowed to him, whereupon Mohammad stroked the cat's head four times. This conferred upon the cat seven lives and the ability to right himself when falling (recall, cats always land on their feet). The mark of the Prophet's stroking can still be seen to this day in tabby cats as an "M" on the forehead as a reminder to all that cats are always to be loved and respected.

The history of my ancestors has not always been a happy one in regard to their treatment by humans. Certainly, we in feline rescue continue to see this vestigial cruelty to cats that some people still display, and it saddens my heart to think of it. All creatures - humans included - are entitled to fundamental respect. And regardless of your personal beliefs, this is an inherent value in people and cats everywhere.

One may think of it as bearing the sign, whether that is of an "M" in the case of us cats, or a mark less visible carried in the soul of man. It is our felinity and their humanity to bear such marks and live a life true to its meaning.


Indeed, if you look closely, you will see that I, too, carry this mark, even though I am a tortoiseshell cat. This picture which Cat-Dad recently took while I was sleeping illustrates that half of the "M" is permanently visible on my forehead in orange. This can be seen in additional pictures posted of me as well. While the other half of this mark cannot be seen, as truly may be the case for countless types of cats other than tabby, in my heart I know it is there.

In this sacred time of purification, empathy for others, and encouragement of charity and generosity, may we strive to renew our pledge to respect and care for all those whom life has placed in our path.

With purrs to all,

Sasha
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Past the seeker as he prayed came the crippled and the beggar and the beaten. And seeing them he cried... "Great God, how is it that a loving creator can see such things and yet do nothing about them?" God said, "I did do something, I made you."
- Author Unknown

Relationship Skills

Since I am the Director of Feline-Human Relations for Cat-Dad Enterprises, I would like to be able to tell you that my resume is impressive with academic studies and published scholarly papers on this subject; but alas, it is not. Seeing the relationship that Cat-Dad and I have might make you think I have this whole feline-human thing worked out; but alas once again, I do not.

So how did I come to achieve this position? In truth, my sole qualification for the post is the experiential knowledge I have gained over my five years living here, and the deeper unexplainable emotional bond that penetrates to the very root of my soul. There is something in my heritage as a cat that has been reached, and it is this that cries out to be expressed. Call it instinct if you like, but it is what makes me happy to be Cat-Dad's companion. It's what draws me to be on his shoulders in the morning when he shaves, during the day when he calls to me for a hug, at night before he sleeps, and when the transition comes upon us.

It's very difficult for me to explain the feelings I have whenever I sit on his shoulders. Had my family not been rescued from the Shelter where I was born and brought to Cat-Dad's home, my life - had I even been permitted to live - would have been very different. But now I have a position of importance training other felines in the art of relationship building. That is an awesome responsibility, since so many of our charges have been cruelly betrayed by humans.

My training program is mostly by example, which is already a part of me. For those who come to us in deep emotional pain, I find that such modeling is more effective than ever trying to explain. They see our expressions of love and mutual support. All who passs through this home soon realize the importance of having a loving forever companion, someone who will understand the grief and the pain of our past, but who will help us to move on and build a whole new life.

When I was asked to write the final chapter for our book, Cat-Dad's Kitten Chronicles, I chose to end it with an example. That example was my attempt to suffice for words in conveying my relationship with Cat-Dad, and I believe it is still quite valid. I described how I would lay my head on his chest and simply listen to the beat of his heart. Soon, unconsciously, my own heart would slow until we became a perfectly synchronized 2:1 rhythm. Two hearts beating as one so that I could no longer distinguish between them. It is such times lying next to him doing absolutely nothing that means absolutely everything to me.

And that is the only way I know to describe how true feline-human relations should be.

With purrs to all,

Sasha
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To the world you may be but one, but to one you may be the world.
-Author Unknown

Of Tulips and Kittens

Springtime has come and with it, the perennial blooming of flowers and littering of kittens. Among the April flowers are the stately, generally mono-colored, purebred icons known as Darwin Tulips. Standing majestic and tall with full broad flowers, they are the typical image that comes to mind when one hears the word, "tulip." But how many know these purebred monochromatic strains are more artifacts of man's manipulation and selective breeding than the true state of the original flower and its modifications by nature?

Tulips are an ancient species that originated, not in Holland nor even in Turkey, as many may think, but rather in the colder, dryer parts of Russia and Central Asia. From the steppes and mountainous regions of the Caucasus, they were brought to Turkey around 1000 A.D. But it wasn't until Sultan Suleiman I (1494-1566), ruler of the Ottoman Empire, popularized tulips by cultivating them in the capital city of Constantinople (Istanbul) as a symbol of his wealth and power. During those early years, an inhabitant of Persia could literally lose his head for stealing a single bulb! Nonetheless, tulips did eventually spread throughout the expanding Persian-Turkish Empire.

Following import from Turkey to Holland in the mid-1500's, an unusual quirk of nature resulted in the creation of dramatic variegated patterns in these flowers; patterns that were highly prized by the Dutch. The seemingly unpredictable outcome became known as "feathering", and today their genetically stabilized likeness is what horticulturists term Rembrandt Tulips. Smaller and more delicate, each flower is a veritable masterpiece.

How similar is the case with the kittens in our rescue groups. They are not the monochromatic purebred cats with papered pedigrees who register with societies and travel the country competing for ribbons. Rather, like the tulip, they are the smaller variety impacted by forces beyond their control that shape them into highly unique individuals. "Dog-people" especially will marvel that within a litter of six kittens, each can look so uniquely different. In my last post titled Choices, I included a photo of myself when I was only five weeks old. This prompted me to go through the entire family album and I found this picture which illustrates quite well the diversity of colors and patterns that kittens of the street may have. Can you find me in the pile? (click on picture to enlarge) Hint: I have some white toes at the ends of my outstretched back legs. If that's not enough, remember I'm a split-faced tortoiseshell.

Characteristically upside down, arms folded across his chest bat-like is my brother Vladimir, pure black. On the other side of me is Shere-Khan, with the color and markings of a Bengal tiger. Next to him is my beautiful sister Deirdre, a black and silver tabby "No common child..." (as is told in the legend). On top of her is Khia, my black and white marked sister whose mantra always was "To go where no kitten has gone before." Mocha has chocolate and coffee stripes on her coat of French vanilla, and you can just make out the warm swirls of red and brown and orange of Carmella's striped and spotted coat. Truly, just like Rembrandt Tulips, each one of my siblings has been painted by the hand of God.

But where tulips and kittens differ is on the inside. While both are beautiful on the outside, our true uniqueness lies within the variegated personalities each of us has been given. We have an inner strength that comes from a heritage of the wild forcing us to survive where life can be marginal. Our differences we embrace, knowing that people, too, are unique and that many have been forced to live though similarly difficult circumstances. In rescue we do rest assured that for every kitten, there is one special human with whom we will be a perfect match for many springtimes yet to come.

With purrs to all,

Sasha
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Every feline is a masterpiece.
- Leonardo da Vinci

Choices

I've often been asked by our incoming patients why it is that I decided to spend my life working at Cat-Dad's side to help other cats and kittens less fortunate than me. The answer to that question goes all the way back to when I was just five weeks old.

I may have mentioned that my brothers and sisters and I were all born in an animal shelter, and were brought to Cat-Dad's home when only four days old. My mother, Nakindi, had been taken there because her people no longer wanted her now that she was about to give birth. Four of the six of us survived that birth situation, and as a new mother, Nakindi was given three additional orphans at the shelter for whom to care. So mom now had seven of us kittens.

Naturally, I have little memory of these events, but both my mother and Cat-Dad have described them to me. Unfortunately, she was very traumatized by being abandoned especially in her time of greatest need. It took months and even years before she would fully trust another human.

But what I do remember growing up is how Cat-Dad would sit on the floor and tell us stories. One time he spoke of his two previous friends, Chloe and Anastasia (whom he affectionately called Annie), two sisters who had lived with him for twenty years. Just that past year in different months, both had been called home. I remember being so moved by the pain in his voice that I climbed up onto him, put my arm around him as far as it would go, and looked straight into his eyes. Here was a human I needed to rescue. There was no question in my mind, even at five weeks old. Right there I made the choice to care for Cat-Dad for the rest of my life.

As time went on, I came to realize he was not alone. There are thousands, perhaps millions of humans out there in desperate need of rescue. It was at that point I made a second choice, to do everything I possibly could to help Cat-Dad in his work of rehabilitating cats and kittens so that we could then rescue these poor unfortunate people. My role became one of working with adult cats who came to our home, comforting and modeling how true feline-human relations should be. I worked with motherless kittens, who frightened and anxious had no understanding why life had dealt them such a raw deal by prematurely taking their mother away. In both cases what was needed was kindness and understanding.

There are many roles I have in life but the choice to be Cat-Dad's devoted friend will always remain my first. He's often told me that although we can never go back and make a new beginning in life, anyone can start from now and choose to make a brand new end. I intend to continue making the right choices so that when my end comes, I will know it is better than where I began.

I invite all of you, dear readers, to join me in that choice.

With purrs to all,

Sasha
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There is a choice you have to make in everything you do, so keep in mind that in the end, the choice you make, makes you!
- John Wooden

Embrace the Mouse

As long as I can remember, Cat-Dad has provided us with toys. Ping-pong balls that bounce along hardwood floors, crinkly toys that make crinkly sounds, and track-ball games where a ball whizzes around a track when we bat at it. But my personal favorite has always been small soft mice with their leather tails. I have stalked these mice, pounced upon them from hiding places, and tossed them high into the air. Why do I do this? I cannot say. From some primeval memory, I just know it is my place to hunt, and the mouse's place to be hunted. I know these mice are not real, yet that does not diminish my purpose. It is the idea more than reality of what it is I must do.

Sometimes I ponder this late at night when Cat-Dad is soundly sleeping but many of us are still wide awake. How came we out of the wild to bond in love and friendship with our human companions? It began some five thousand years ago, but through all those years we have never forgotten our heritage. Each night it is reborn in every fiber of our being. The spirit of the hunt. That double life that each of us leads, loving companion to our humans by day, and predator of our realm by night. Even the most domesticated of us feels its call.

Predator of the night, yet just as fierce in our love and friendship. Which is real? Which is not? How can both exist together? Little time is lost in wonder as true reality is created in our minds. The hunt; the kill. Only a stuffed piece of cloth in the likeness of a mouse. But in our minds, the scenario plays itself out with all the realism of life.

With the first rays of dawn, the transition is upon us once again, and happily I climb into Cat-Dad's bed. I seek the comfort of his embrace as he reaches out to me in his sleep. I too close my eyes and am content to be his loving friend.

And all the while, the mouse in silence waits, knowing that the night will come again.

With purrs to all,

Sasha
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Everything you can imagine is real.
- Pablo Picasso

Mark of the Tabby

Afternoon on Christmas Day of 2008, and most of us cats have settled down for our nap. But today I'm restless thinking about stories that Cat-Dad has been telling us, and since I'm not much into football, I thought I would write to you, dear readers.

Stories about us cats are seemingly endless, probably because we have lived with humans only for five thousand years. Dogs (ahem...) on the other paw, have been subservient to man for over twenty thousand years. Mystery also surrounds our origins. No record of what most humans term "domesticated cats" - personally, I think that an oxymoron - has been found older than five thousand years. This gives rise to speculation that we were brought into existence as a race for the singular purpose of straightening out the mess that man was getting himself into!

But I digress.

One story seems particularly relevant to convey because it is a legend that dates back to the very first Christmas. This is one explanation (granted, there are others) about how tabby cats came by the characteristic mark each bears on his/her forehead, the likeness of an "M". The picture here above of Mork will remind you of this sign.

There are many tellings and variations of this tale that all reach the same end, but the one that Cat-Dad told derives from a posting on WikiAnswers.com. It goes like this:

It was a cold and starry night that found the cat out hunting. He didn't look much different from the other cats; he was gray in color with stripes of charcoal. As this cat walked down the dark alleyway, he heard crying coming from a stable. He entered, and to his amazement saw several types of animals surrounding a young mother who was trying to comfort her newborn son.

She spoke softly. "I don't know what to do. I thought you were hungry, so I fed you. I thought you were wet, so I changed your diaper. I thought you were cold so I wrapped another blanket around you."

She rocked the infant a few minutes longer and then laid him back in a manger filled with hay. The baby continued to cry. But the cat knew what needed to be done. He leapt into the manger and curled up next to the child. In comforting tones, he began to purr. It was the sweetest lull-a-bye ever heard, and the baby quieted and drifted off to sleep.

The woman gently stroked the cat saying, "Thank you. I don't know where you came from or how you knew, but thank you."

God was looking down and witnessing the blessed events of His son's birthday. Heard only by the cat, God spoke.

"You have done a wonderful deed this night. Because you cared enough to help this woman, I will mark you and your offspring forever so that people for all time will remember. Her name is Mary, and from this day forward, you will have the letter "M" on your forehead."

So when you see a cat with the tabby pattern (no matter if it's gray, brown, or some other color) look closely at its forehead. By this you will know that it is a descendant of the cat that comforted the newborn Christ on that first Christmas night.

Thoughts to ponder, dear readers. But while you do so, I must go now to take my nap before our Christmas Feast. I leave you with this question. What mark will be branded on your soul that will remind us all of the kindness you have given?

With purrs to all,

Sasha
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The purring of an average housecat falls into the frequency of 25-40 cycles per second (Hz). Interestingly, research has shown that exposure to 20-50 Hz induces increased bone density, relieves pain, and heals tendons and muscles... Many individuals swear they can ease or completely eliminate their migraine headaches simply by lying down with a purring cat.
- Fedyniak, L.G. (2003) A Cat's Healing Purr. Animal Wellness 5: 12-14

Safe for the Night

An important part of feline rescue is working with those cats and kittens who have been traumatized by neglect, abuse, or the need to survive against all odds. Healing their bodies is but one aspect of our rehabilitative process; dealing with minds and hearts are all together different issues. Many residents come to us so frightened they can hardly function. It's these individuals who require months, sometimes years, of continual relationship building before we can begin the process of finding them a human companion. Here's where Noel and I, as Cat-Dad's primary assistants, often play a significant role. Chief among these is modeling relationship behaviors.

We cats take great comfort in routine, and thus one of our first steps is gradually introducing all newcomers to our daily regimen. My mother, Nakindi, as the Mistress of our house has the responsibility of being in charge when Cat-Dad is away, and even when he is here, she sets the tone and ensures that routine in the daily schedule is maintained.

One ritual we observe which many troubled minds find comforting occurs every night at bed-time. Shortly after midnight, Cat-Dad will announce that the doors are closing; they are being locked, and bolted against the night. Nothing can get in to hurt us and we are safe until the morning. Surprisingly, his words affirming our security have a calming effect even on me!

Then, as the lights are dimmed, several timid shapes can be seen slinking into the bedroom seeking the warmth and safety of Cat-Dad's bed. Sometimes he reads aloud to us, sometimes he just reads silently. But this shared time increases the sense of intimacy and relationship building between us all. Through physical closeness, we help our residents and patients temporarily forget their pain, and give them peace from the phantoms of the dark - specters of hunger, pain, and sickness that haunt their dreams from a world all too real on the other side of those bolted doors.

I, of course, have my favorite sleeping spot curled up always on Cat-Dad's left, usually across his arm. How often have I been awakened in the night by soft muffled cries, only to watch his hand reach out to cover the small trembling body and make the bad dreams go away. The human-feline bond in this home is so natural, so subconscious, that I know my Cat-Dad is often not even awake. Yet the silent message is clearly conveyed through the warmth of his hand. Memories and fears are quieted and the oblivion of sleep once again envelops us all.

How do we deal with fear? One incident at a time. Like humans, no two of us cats are exactly alike, yet all of us respond at the subconscious level to being protected and feeling secure. If fear is an issue in your life, I invite you to try our method. Tonight, just before bed-time, say these words out loud:

"The doors are closing. They are being locked and bolted against the night. Nothing can get in to hurt us. Truly, we are safe for the night."

With purrs to all,

Sasha
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I reached for sleep and drew it round me like a blanket muffling pain and thought together in the merciful dark.
- Mary Stewart

A Matter of Trust

Today, while clearing up some papers on Cat-Dad’s desk, I ran across the personal diary of Mindy, one of our foster residents. Well, OK, in truth, it was stashed behind one of our litter boxes and I sneaked a peek while using “the necessary.” She and her brother Mork came to live with us almost 12 months ago, and are a pair with whom Cat-Dad has invested many hours of patient conditioning. Almost identical brown tabbies, he and I often chuckle together because their personalities could not be more dissimilar. Mindy is a wonderful cat, and Cat-Dad often refers to her as his “Little Firefly” because of how coy and delicately she flits around our home. This entry yesterday from her diary which I share below gives insight to differences between two individuals growing up within the same environment.

October 13, 2008 – Monday

How bold you are dear brother, sitting there on the counter calmly munching the salad greens that Cat-Dad is using to prepare his evening meal. I jump up there too, but it still just doesn’t feel right. Always I’m so nervous, so jumpy, despite the love I know he feels for us both. How long has it been? One year? Almost to the day. A lifetime when you’re only 14 months old.

Do you remember, brother, how frightened we both were? Plucked from out of the street when barely eight weeks old, the lifeless body of our sister lying there beside us. Taken to a veterinary clinic where eventually we were confined in a large cage in his waiting room. I’m sure it was well intentioned, but somewhat frightening with all those dog-patients and their owners staring; always staring… staring… at us. Was that where I first learned to fear?

Although I could never tell you this dear brother, your presence growing up with me is such a comfort, and I appreciate you so much. You have adapted quicker than me and I marvel now at the self-confidence you’ve gained. Sometimes I wonder what’s to become of us. Will we find a forever home together? Can humans have the patience to understand me? How much of the wildness inside me will I be able to control and let a forever person get beyond my walls? I see the closeness that Cat-Dad shares with so many in this foster home as each of us walks our own path of progress. The bonds of trust are firm... but not just yet for me.

How typical this sentiment is in a feline rescue/foster home, and indeed, in many human lives. Each of our residents comes to us carrying the weight of a traumatic past, and our task, in addition to repairing broken bodies, is to also mend broken hearts and minds. I’ll always remember something Ursula (a former foster resident) confided to me. One day when she was feeling particularly down, Cat-Dad took her into his arms and said,

“Ursula, every kitten can be likened to a large and fragile mirror. When a true forever person looks deeply into her soul they see reflected back a polished image of perfect love. But a traumatic start in life can shatter that looking glass into a thousand pieces leaving them frightened and wary of everything. The task of a rescue/foster person is to gently collect those broken shards and patiently work to piece them together into a beautiful mosaic pattern. Never again will you be whole, but this tessellation now reflects back many times the single image of that perfect love.”

What hurt are you or your feline companion harboring inside today? Do you feel broken in spirit or body? Time and again we have proven that foster cats and kittens can heal, and although sometimes wild at heart, are capable of the fiercest love. That love can affect their human companion in a most therapeutic way, and the joining of the two brings healing to both. In feline rescue work we are always aware of this powerful truth, and it’s a force that keeps us going.

Mindy and her brother will find loving homes with a human who understands the power of having them fulfill their destiny. It is our pledge to them; it is a pledge by which we live.

With purrs to all,

Sasha
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And God created the cat that man might know the pleasure of caressing the tiger.
- Fernand Mery