Sweetie is not the most medically challenged cat to grace Tabby’s Place: A Cat Sanctuary. Yet, his situation breaks my heart. Sweetie was a street cat from Brooklyn with a guardian angel in human form. With her, he earned his name. In his new home at Tabby’s Place, some are puzzled by this same name, since Sweetie spends most of his time hidden from fingers that would scritch and voices that would coo lovingly. Further, one thing that lies beneath the beautiful face and glorious fur coat is not an apparent match. For Sweetie, one thing is made obvious only from his being in Quinn’s Corner because he tested positive for FeLV. Like his suitemates Tucker and Oram, looking at Sweetie offers no clue as to any potential health threat. But, it requires neither Sherlock Holmes nor a pet detective to uncover the primary source of concern for Sweetie. With cats, just as with real estate, location is everything. In Sweetie’s case, that location has been “deep hiding,” whatever that means on any given day. Hence, the primary concern is that Sweetie came to Tabby’s Place very scared…very, very scared.
Fortunately, when the powers-that-be settled on a design for the Quinn’s Corner addition, scaredy cats were accounted for. From his first in suite G, locating Sweetie was to be met with a terrified hiss. Attempts to approach within 10 feet were met with the same emphatic hiss. Looking from a distance was as much as could be hoped for. That was then. Things have slowly…very slowly…started to change. The importance and magnitude of one change cannot be emphasized enough: Sweetie has started to watch.
One day, from the safety of an enclosed bed more than 10 feet from me, Sweetie watched skeptically as I sat in the solarium with my hand lightly resting on Oram’s side or petting Oram or scritching Oram’s chin. Sweetie has also watched when Tucker comes over to me for a head pat, a chin scratch, and to try to goad me into touching his very off-limits tummy (These, as a whole, are a common occurrence). Sweetie even watched Tucker and Oram play musical meals, confused that they didn’t care about the presence of a person. Sweetie has watched intently each and every time that I inch a the littlest bit closer to him.
Over time, with enough feedings and comings-and-goings of lots of humans, 10 feet became 5 feet then 3 feet. Sweetie watched as I said, “Hello, Sweetie,” about one thousand times in different intonations. Sweetie continued to watch and appeared to listen as two of us humans chattered about Doctor Who. Encouragingly, there are reports that Sweetie has been spotted on the move COMFORTABLY in the suite. Plus, his body posture during visits has become visibly more relaxed, although not yet truly, completely relaxed.
Quite recently, after accidentally scaring Sweetie out of a spot in a cat tree and his making a mad dash into a cubby, he recovered remarkably quickly. He watched as I slowly approached to 3 feet away. Then, Sweetie watched as I came even closer. Sweetie didn’t hiss. Not once. As I opened the door to the cubby, Sweetie cringed slightly, but only watched. He won’t tell me if he knows I was providing an escape route. Still, Sweetie didn’t hiss. Sweetie did blink a semi-slow blink, which is a ginormous step forward. Semi-slow blinks invariably give way to true slow-blinks and then to yawns. And that’s not all! I held up my phone, and he watched a video of a cat who resides in a nearby suite. That last may not sound like a big deal. It is! In order to watch the screen, Sweetie had to allow me to hold my phone within 2 feet of him…and he had to turn his gaze away from me.
Sweetie’s progress is profound.
It’s a delicate dance to earn trust.
The timeframe cannot be known until it is done.
Sweetie’s fluency in English is insufficient to hasten us to friendship. Our fluency in catonese is questionable at best. No matter. The rewards of quietly spending time with a cat that is sufficiently content to look away from a person for a few moments in order to watch a video is immeasurable.
The promise of future comfort waxes large. The day will come when I’ll say, “Hello, Sweetie,” and Sweetie will respond with a purr. Someday, he will want pets, all of them. Sweetie and I and all the other humans working with him and caring for him will take our time. We’ll get there. The fairytale ending is in sight.