In a post I wrote a few weeks ago, I mentioned Stanley, and Judee inquired
as to who Stanley was. I introduced you to him in this
post, but it’s probably time that I give you an
update. Stanley is my cat, and today is his third birthday. This dog person,
ignorant of all things feline, adopted a cat during the pandemic. My only
experience with cats prior to this was when my son, his wife, and their two
cats, moved in with me for six weeks while awaiting the completion of their new
home. I fell in love with their cats, and longed to have one of my own.
My ignorance played into my hands when I adopted Stanley. Had I known his
background, I probably wouldn’t have done so. I must say that when one of the
women at the shelter followed me out to my car when I was taking Stanley home and
said to me how much they appreciated my “taking a chance on Stanley” adding
that he was the kind of cat who would be likely to spend his entire life in a
shelter, I wondered what I was getting into. He had apparently been at another
shelter and had completely shut down. He would interact with no one. So he
moved to the shelter where I found him and still didn’t have much to do with anyone.
He had come from a home where he hadn’t been treated particularly well. The
home was full of big dogs and small children, and that was a combination that proved
difficult for him.
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When I brought him home, I didn’t see him for a month. He hid that entire time.
The only reason I knew that I even had a pet was because his food bowl would
periodically empty, and the litter box would be used. I was patient. I had no
idea what I was doing anyway, so I just kept doing it; I let him call the
shots. When one day I saw his little face at the top of the steps leading to
the lower level, I was thrilled. At that point I decided that I was going to hand
feed him by playing hockey with little pieces of kibble, shooting them across
the floor to him one by one, each time making the length shorter and shorter
until eventually he was eating out of my hand. He still wouldn’t let me
touch him, but I loved being able to get that close.
A month to the day of my adopting him, I was stretched out on the bed watching
something on TV, and he leapt on top of it and started rubbing up against me
and purring. That was a wonderful day! We have been best buddies ever since.
He is a sweet and loving cat. He is, however, still skittish. If I move too
quickly he will flinch. He still will not let me pick him up. I never
grew up with a cat, I always had dogs, but I am so in love with my sweet boy
Stanley, and he seems fairly relaxed with me.
For those of you who are cat people, I would like some tips on how to get him
to use scratching posts. I have bought every kind imaginable -- upright, flat,
wavy, triangular, and I can’t get him to use any of them. He does seem to like
the furniture, and that’s not working for me.
Thanks for asking, Judee. I do love my boy, even when he awakens me at 5:00 AM to
put food into his bowl that he then proceeds to ignore. Cats!
Happy Birthday, Stanley!
