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scaredy cat A combination of things has led to my buddy Breo being overly cautious of me, to the point that he is avoiding being in my presence. I won’t lie; it hurts my heart an awful lot to think he has even a smidge of fear regarding me, but there’s nothing I can do except slowly earn his trust back in the short time we have left together. During this brief time that Breo has been in my life, he and I have done a lot of playing, and I guess you’d say I am a very tactile person so our fun often involved me grabbing him, “wrestling” with him, giving him aggressive loving, etc. He quiet enjoyed it when I would launch myself across my bed, grab him, hold him tight, and then chomp lovingly on his neck and ears while at the same time giving him face and belly kisses. I was never intentionally rough with him, but in my experience the best way to earn the trust of an animal is to be the way I’ve just described, and show them they are not in any danger. If you can suddenly growl, lunge at a once-feral cat, and grab it like you are attacking, and the animal does not wind up injured (or eaten), it learns that people (or at least you) can be trusted. This was something we did during playtime, not all the time, but you could tell there were moments when he was just aching to be chased, and<b> attacked. </font></b>So I made Breo my pal, and we played kind of rough sometimes, but he always received tons and tons of normal, cuddly loving as well. The problem, I think, is that with play can often come accidents, and in many cases those accidents wound up causing my furry buddy pain. Like, I’d be winding up to get ready to toss a toy but he’d leap at my hand too soon, and I’d accidentally wind up bopping him on the nose. He couldn’t tell they were accidents though, so he likely believed I was hurting him purposefully, for reasons unknown. Again, I’ll remind you, this was a formerly feral cat that did not grow up with humans, and only recently became semi-domesticated. For him, he’s still uncertain of what to expect, what the future looks like, and most of all what these creatures who feed him, play with him, but also keep him trapped within certain boundaries and exert certain levels of control really intend for him. Keeping that in perspective is very important. I guess you could say our brief past has been troubled by those accidental moments, but I believe it has culminated with this newest injury he is recovering from. I can’t be certain, but I believe I might be partially responsible for it. There is a vague memory I have, of an incident where he and I were playing on the cat tree, and I can see in my mind’s eye that what we were doing could have accidentally caused him injury, at some point. I might be the reason he got hurt, and don’t even know it, and he may be holding it against me like he has in the past, even though it was an accident. It’s all just guessing at this point. The vet seemed to indicate it might be something genetic, but there’s no denying Breo thinks I am the cause, or at least partially responsible. Add to this, the recent, sudden, and rather dramatic exit of Sinatra, Rebel and Nestle and I can understand why he might be wary of me. Sinatra did not go easily and I have no idea how much of that Breo witnessed, but he has to see me as a potential threat. Every time I approach him he is warily checking out my hands to see what I am carrying or holding. I hate it. It hurts me deeply and I try not to let it get to me. We spend a moment together where he barely relaxes, and then I make sure to exit without making any sudden moves. He doesn’t come to see me in the kitchen, begging for a treat, in fact he’ll poke his head in the door, see I am there, and exit right back out. That’s terrible. I don’t think he’s been up into my room, or the cat room, for nearly a week and I predict he won’t do it on his own before we leave the house for good, unless he is so frightened by something that he flees up here for safety. My heart is broken but I am resigned to either earning a bit of trust back before we officially part ways, or at least being as stress free of a presence in his life as I can be. Either way, I’ve lost no love for the fellow, just miss his furry butt.  |
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