Dear Supporters of Bacon,
There’s an old saying—things never stay the same.
I actually first heard the news that Bacon is moving—from one suite to another, that is—when I read it on Facebook. Bacon is no longer going to be sharing a suite with Lornadoone in the Sanctuary Associate Office. My first reaction is—this is good and bad news. The upside is that he now has a room all to himself in the Medical Office. He can be out and about 24 hours a day. The downside is that he is no longer going to be sharing a suite with Lornadoone. (I think he kind of fancies her.)
I find out when I talk to one of the women who work at Tabby’s Place that Bacon’s initial reaction to the move is not good. He runs into the hallway and then, let’s just say, plays hard to get when she tries to corral him back into the room. When I arrive hours later, she warns me that Bacon may not be in the best of moods.
“He can be unpredictable.” But I’ve heard it all before.
I’ve been trying to forge a relationship with him for the past eight months. I take nothing for granted and realize that even though I can pet him in September, it doesn’t mean I can pet him in October.
I cautiously open the door and notice the lights are out in the room. There is a desk lamp on but the low lighting sets a kind of mood in the room. Is this some kind of new light therapy, I wonder? Is it supposed to produce a calming effect? Later I learned that, no, the lights just stopped working and needed to be fixed. (Presently, they’re waiting for the part to come in.) Curious, though, that the lights went out suddenly the very day Bacon moves in. Hmmm… Maybe, the universe is trying to tell us something.
Bacon is sitting in his house, and she is right—he doesn’t look like he’s in the best of moods.
“Hey, buddy, how are you doing?” If a cat can frown, Bacon is frowning. “Not so good.”
I feel so sorry for this poor little fellow. I know this move is all for the best. His nerves can’t take too much stimulation, and this new move is designed to reduce outside stress. But, still, I doubt he sees it that way.
“Your new room is nice.” “I suppose.”
I’m about to spout off all the positive things about having your own room when he gets up and comes out of his house. Good sign, I’m thinking. As usual, he rubs against me as he walks on by. I hold out my hand and he sniffs.
“You know me,” I say aloud. He does a complete circuit around me, goes into his house, and then comes out again to make another complete circuit.
This is a good sign. He often does this. Comes out and wanders around in a circle, which gradually widens with time. I want to pet him and I think just once. I’ll make contact once. I do, and he continues now across the room, to the water bowl and takes a nice long drink.
My expectations are low this time around. New surroundings. Loss of Lornadoone. A lot to take in and deal with. He gently sideswipes me again, and I reach out for another quick pet.
I have this theory about cats. When you pet them, they often go over and eat. Sure enough, Bacon heads over to a dried food bowl and begins to chow down. I take this as another good sign. Will a cat that is overly traumatized be able to eat?
He comes back over to where I’m sitting on the floor, and he stops. As if he’s waiting for something. He sits there for the longest time, not saying a word, not issuing a meow. Very still, almost as if he’s in a trance.
There are so many things I want to say. I reach out and let him sniff me again. Just for reassurance. “Everything is going to be okay.” He brushes past me into his house.
The thing is when you work with Bacon, when you interact with Bacon, you have to be able to recognize and then accept his limits. When he goes back into his house, he’s saying he’s had enough. For now. Don’t take it personally. After all, there’s always tomorrow.
Since that day, Bacon seems to be settling in nicely. Medically, he’s doing well, so this has been a good move after all. The folks at Tabby’s have made a conscious effort to limit his contact with the outside world in order to reduce his stress.
In other news: Tabby’s Place is celebrating its 20th anniversary this month. AND we had our Grand Opening Celebration for Quinn’s Corner on October 7, which means that the good folks here can rescue more cats, like Bacon, and if possible, secure them forever homes.
Bacon and I thank you for your continued generosity to Tabby’s Place. He has the best life he can hope to have because of you.
We hope you enjoy what promises to be a beautiful autumn.
Your correspondent,
Kate