A Cat and A Bag

There was a piece in The Guardian early in the week that I've been meaning to get to, but often I allow my thoughts too much time to set, and events pass on. Here are some excerpts (sub-headlines within the article):

Pets are good for cardiac health
Pets boost the immune system
Dogs can act as a health warnings
Pets can improve self-esteem and decrease the likelihood of depression

Basically, the article summarizes the increasing evidence that having a pet decreases health risks by a surprising amount, and in surprising ways- though some of those ways make good sense when you think them through. Given that in one way or another, all of the above health issues are of concern to me, it's probably a good idea for me to have a pet.

As I've commented in a couple of posts (here and here), I have been taking care of a feral cat that's been around the neighborhood since I moved to my current location 3 1/2 years ago. She spends nearly all her time in my apartment, and has been increasingly affectionate. Over the last couple of weeks, for example, she has been climbing onto the bed and sleeping beside me for a few hours before I get up. She has been increasingly tolerant of being held and petted- an activity that used to always end in blood loss (mine, not hers).

I mentioned in the second post linked above that she liked to burrow into the mound of grocery bags and hide; she has also been using that as a sleeping spot. Thursday morning I got up to go to the bathroom, and stuck my head into the living room/kitchen area to see how she was doing. She sort stretched out of the pile and yawned... and realized that something had her. She had the handles of one of the plastic bags caught around her neck. She shrieked, in the way that only a terrified and angry cat can, circled like a little tornado for a moment, then took off for the door, careening into a chair, the sofa, and the door itself, before catapulting out into the yard.

And that was the last I saw of her.

As I told Rawley, it would have been hysterically funny if I wasn't so worried about her. She was clearly in a blind panic, and while she's a very smart animal, panic is not a state in which one pays attention to, for example, traffic. Then there was the whole strangulation thing; I have never seen a cat jump like she does- it approaches flying. If she were to try jumping over a fence...

On the other hand, I kept trying to reassure myself. She is a smart cat; if she settled down, she would be able to figure out how to get the bag off her neck, I told myself. She might be angry with me, she might be nervous about ever coming back to my space, but she does know how to watch out for herself. She knows how to stalk the wild cheeseburger.

She wasn't waiting for me when I came in Thursday evening. I had food in her bowl that was undisturbed when I got up on Friday. And Friday evening. And Saturday morning. And when I got home last night.

My hope was pretty well shattered. Then...

Last night, about midnight, I heard a crunch from the kitchen. I got up from my computer, and she was at the food bowl. I just started bawling. She took fright and ran out the door again, but she was OK! I sat back down and cried for a few minutes, then got the box of food and went outside. She wouldn't come up to me (she used come running when she saw me), but when I sat down and poured some food beside me, she cautiously approached and started eating. After a few minutes, I picked her up and took her inside. She was trembling, and meowed in mild protest a couple of times, but she didn't fight. I closed the porch door, the closet where the bags are, and closed the windows to a crack- I have no doubt that she would go through the screens in a jiffy.

She ate for a couple of minutes, then went and hid in the same spot that she adopted when she first started spending time in my apartment, back in April. She seems to use a spot for a week or two, then find another she likes; she had not been spending time behind the spare box springs for months. She was still there when I woke up today. When I put down some more food for her, she ate a little, then went back. The experience has clearly shaken her trust in all things Lockwood, but she seems willing to start over.

And before I came into The Interzone today, I propped the porch door open again. She may be there when I get home, she may not. But she'll be back. And that's all that really matters to me.

I am so relieved and so happy.