Enriching the Life of an Anxious Rescue Cat

Enriching the Life of an Anxious Rescue Cat

Entered into Vocal's Stray to Stay Challenge: Tell us how you rescued your beloved pets and share their adoption story.

There is a fable I like to share about the first week we adopted our rescue cat, Simba. He had been small and gawky with enormous bright-green eyes. Aside from the variation in eye colour, Simba was the spitting image of the Lord of the Rings character, Smeagle (or Golem).

The first week we brought him home, Simba had a bad case of the cat-flu. When he sneezed it sounded like Golem retching. He'd slink into the bedroom so slight on his delicate paws that you wouldn't notice him come in. You'd sit in silence, reading a book or sipping a cup of tea when suddenly, from a dark corner of the room, "GOLLUM! GOLLUM!".

Before we had the pleasure of knowing him, Simba had lived with another family under less than ideal circumstances. To keep himself alive, he had to develop some, uh... interesting habits. He drank from the toilet bowl and stole vegetables from our compost bin.

My brother joked that Simba functioned like a vacuum. If you dropped anything remotely edible he'd be there, and the food would disappear in a puff of smoke. Thankfully for us, the toilet bowl issue resolved on its own, but the food addiction is still something we struggle to manage

Simba's obsession with food is equal parts amusing and distressing. I once walked in on him with his jaw half-way round an avocado pip; during a meal prep I had been stunned by Simba's good behaviour, only to find that he had been periodically swiping mushrooms from the counter; one day I came home and discovered a clove of garlic on the floor, with teeth marks embedded into the skin. Garlic is poisonous to cat's, and luckily for him he'd had the good sense not to eat it, but I worried about how he had managed to find the garlic in the first place. Caring for Simba was like caring for a toddler who'd just learned to walk.

"One cannot live while the other survives" Simba reminds me when he senses food close by. And so, I no longer have the luxury of leaving dishes overnight. They are washed immediately, or kept in a large container where he can't reach them. Meals are served at precisely 9am in the mornings and 5pm every evening. Treats are given when he least expects them, less he anticipate them anxiously.

Playtime, too, is a matter of great precision for Simba. From automatic rolling LED balls to scraps of crumpled paper, Simba's best friend, Jewels, will play with just about anything. She has a repertoire of glitzy and feathered toys, but engaging Simba in a play session is a whole other kettle of fish; he has eyes for only one thing, and it's disgusting.

Laid out before you, we have what remains of the five fish-toys Simba has been generously gifted over the past year. For some, all that remains is a wooden stick. But for one lucky toy, the entire string remains intact. How long is the life span of a single cat's fish-on-a-stick-toy, you ask me? As long as a piece of string.

Two years in and I've come to accept the fact that Simba does not - and will not - appreciate his Play Circuit Flat Track or Frolicat Automatic Laser. Is it cheap to keep a fussy boy like Simba entertained? No. But will I be hoping down to Target next week to replace his favourite toy? You betcha I will.

When Simba has had a particularly rough day, say - he's been told he can't eat your dinner as well after promptly inhaling his own - he soothes his anxiety by nestling in his favourite blankey. His blanket of choice changes over time, and this Autumn he's opted for the baby blue throw blanket we keep over the lounge.

While I admit, it can be difficult to take him seriously when his nose is crinkled and his fur is a sleepy-mess, I must give credit where credit is due. He knows how to self-soothe, and that's more than most of us can say for ourselves.

I read once that kittens have fond memories of feeding with their litter, and that if they are taken away too soon from their mother, they will emulate this process by suckling on a blanket and kneading. Apparently, it helps calm them down. I'd never seen this before, until I met Simba.

Hold on, I need a moment to breathe.

Okay

Among the many things that trigger Simba's stress response - and thus, his self-soothing ritual - not being allowed to eat your dinner is second to only one thing; his yearning for the outdoors. Living close to a metropolis area means that Simba can't roam free without risk. And so, it's my job to enrich his living space as best I can.

Occasionally, when I have the time I will take Simba outside for a walk. Unfortunately, I came to realise that walking Simba regularly only worked to increase his stress. He would stand by the back door, yowling as he anxiously anticipated his next adventure.

Eventually, I realised that Simba's desire to go outside was not specific to green grass and blue skies. Maybe it was a little to do with his insatiable desire to terrorise the lizard population, but aside from that... he was just bored.

One of my most successful endeavours to keep him entertained was a complete accident and one that I'm sure a lot of cat owners can relate to.

Simba loved the Christmas tree.

It wasn't just the bells and sparkling baubles. He batted them in fascination once or twice - there was even an opalescent puffer-fish decoration that kept his attention for a while - but his greatest joy came from teetering the tree back-and-forth, and sending my brother and I running to catch it as it fell.

It wasn't easy to relinquish the aesthetic of my beloved Christmas tree to the whims of a high-strung and rambunctious cat, but watching his eyes light up as he fell through the tinsel was enough to have me resigning the tree to him. There's beauty in chaos after all, I told myself.

No,

actually, that's a lie. I spent a good half-hour every day re-organising the decorations after Simba had finished his antiques. One might argue that I was the one who should have been suckling a blanket, but I digress.

As April rolls around it's my job to continue to find unique and fun ways to keep Simba entertained. After Christmas, we left the wrapping paper in a pile for him to make a mess of. In February, I built him a forte out of blankets and dining chairs. Most recently, he's discovered the joys of leaping onto floating bedsheets as they catch the air from my pedestal fan.

It hasn't always been easy to care for a rescue cat. Simba requires much more delicate care and attention than his counterpart, Jewels, but the trials and tribulations are well worth the reward.