Queen Of Her World

Three and a half years ago, I wandered into a animal rescue shelter and left with this tiny six month old kitten. Totally unplanned but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

This little kitten was a six month old, champagne coloured, domestic shorthair female, with tiger stripes on both her back legs and she had certainly earned her stripes, in the six short months this girl walked the earth.

The animal rescue shelter placed her in a cardboard box for me. I couldn’t place her in the carry box because she was so scared, that she wouldn’t allow me to pick her up. In fact she wouldn’t even allow me to touch her. She was terrified of humans and she just broke my heart.

How could I not take her home — she was calling out for love and kindness, in a world where she’d only known torment and torture.

The story the staff at the shelter told me just tore my heart from my chest.

Her story played out from birth, where she had been tormented and tortured until she was practically taking her final breath and it was at this time, that her torturers threw her away in a dumpster to die.

Hence why humans terrified her and I don’t blame her at all!

The shelter nursed her back to life in the few weeks she had been with them and because of her back story, they thought to name her Dumpling — oh no, no, no!

The staff gave me advice on what to do with my new girl once I got home and the main highlight of their advice, was to suggest I keep her locked in a small room for the first week or so, until she got used to her new surroundings.

Mmmmm I didn’t have any small rooms in the house I lived in but still I was determined we’d make this work. Nothing was going to stop me from showing this little girl how life should really be!

I gently placed the carry box on the front seat of my car and started the journey home, talking softly to her the entire drive, although she couldn’t see me at all, I wanted her to get used to my voice.

Once we arrived home, I carefully carried my precious cargo inside, chose the largest bedroom I had, and my little girl and I both moved into this room, with the door firmly closed behind us.

I opened the carry box and gently turned it on its side. She immediately raced out and found my yoga mat, that was rolled up under a side table. She had just enough room in the rolled mat to scurry inside and there she stayed.

I let her be while I moved a mattress into the room, for me to sleep on, as I planned on staying in the room with her, until she was comfortable enough to trust me.

On this first day, I also gave her a new name. One more befitting of the strength and survival instincts she’d already shown in her young life.

It was here, in this room, that we stayed for the next week.

Those first few days I placed her food bowl at the end of the rolled mat, so she only had to stick her head out to eat. I also placed a litter box at the other end of the mat, under the table, so she had some protection and would feel safe.

Then I let her be. I entertained myself in the bedroom, while still constantly talking to her.

But still she refused to leave that rolled up mat.

On day three, my oldest son called in for a visit and we sat on the end of the mattress I’d been sleeping on and chatted. All the time ignoring my girl.

To my surprise, about an hour after my son had arrived, she cautiously climbed out of the mat and began looking around the room. My son and I continued talking and let her be.

A good hour after she had left the mat, she totally surprised us by creeping up close to my son and laid down next to his leg. Again we didn’t try to touch her and just let her be.

Slowly, she kept pushing herself backwards until her little butt was pushed up hard against my son’s leg. She seriously couldn’t get close enough and kept trying to get closer and closer.

At this stage she’d still not come near me and she certainly hadn’t let me touch her.

Eventually my son left and I was worried that she’d head straight back into the rolled mat, but she continued to explore the room, giving me a wide berth.

I let her do her own thing but continued to talk to her. In fact I laid on the bed and read my book, reading out loud so she could hear my voice and get used to me.

To my astonishment, once she’d finished exploring the room, she climbed up onto the bed, nestled in close to my thigh and went to sleep.

I seriously could have cried at that point as I knew she was going to be okay. She was beginning to trust me.

Still I did not touch her and it was like this that we both dozed off and she slept next to me the entire night.

The following day I began to play with her and she was a ball of energy. Where most cats are food orientated, she was play orientated instead. She just wanted to play every chance she got.

And she was the Queen of my house — what she wanted she got!

We played and played for hours and every time she got close to me, I’d gently touch her, until by the end of the week she was allowing me to pat her — as long as we played first hahaha.

She certainly knew how to get her own way.

At the end of that first week I was able to open the bedroom door and allow her access to the rest of the house. She had come such a long way in just a week but she, to this day, has always seen that bedroom as her safe place. As soon as anything scares her, she races off to hide in that bedroom.

That room has become her bedroom and her safety net — not that she really needs it anymore, as she was learning.

So here we are, three and a half years later, and I’d like to introduce you to my forever friend ………… four year old Grizabella, named after the old outcast cat from the Cats musical. The old cat that was chosen to be rebirthed into a better life in the theatre production.

And it was my girl, that I chose to rebirth, into a life of love and happiness and therefore fitting to adorn my Queen, with the perfect name, Grizabella.

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