ten or so years ago, i got a cat. she was the runt of the litter; tiny, all eyes and tail. her mother and siblings refused to accept her. a work acquaintance took her in, but his dogs didn't accept her either and made her even more terrified to exist. as fate would have it, a really rough day at work later would lead to said coworker and i having a couple of andygators at the irish pub on the corner and by the time his bus came, i'd agreed to take her home.
i baby/kitten-proofed the whole apartment before he dropped her off. my partner at the time had worked at a fancy niche toy store and somehow acquired myriad silly bands and i tied up every loose cabinet and door. within an hour of bringing her inside, she disappeared. i lost my shit. it took another hour for me to find her--she'd gone under the armchair and latched herself to the webbing underneath. that became her safe space.
when i say i spent hours lying on the floor beside that chair, i'm under-exaggerating (for once in my life of hyperbole). hours and hours, for weeks. i tried everything. treats, silence, talking quietly, humming songs. it wasn't until one day i got home exhausted and hungry and ate some cheez-its while telling her about my day that she came out seeming interested. i crushed one up into little pieces and held my hand out as an offering; she slowly started eating from my palm. i cried a little bit, but kept talking. she licked it clean.
it's been a journey of a decade since. she's still skittish and scared most of the time. she still tests anyone she doesnt know/almost anyone who isn't me. if you are patient and don't push her, she will usually just rub up on your legs and hiss to tell you who's boss; any uncertain movements and she'll go straight into defense/attack mode. i warn everyone to just let her be; i understand.
i let someone into my apartment the other day to help me bring some things in quickly. marlu did her normal hiss and hide, but kept her distance instead of defending herself. that's growth for her. yet this person started making jokes about how i'm so good at dealing with animals, but my cat is an asshole. which is true out of context, but also fucked up. you don't know what she's been through. i can't even fully understand what's she's been through. but we have an understanding that's taken a lot of work.
she even snaps at me sometimes. i didn't take it as well as i could have at first, but she helped me learn to not take defensive measures as personal attacks and to take a second to process and exercise patience. those moments are very rare now. most of the time, she's following me around like a shadow and curling up next to me, especially when i'm not feeling well. i woke up in a panic at 4am last night as she was at my feet; instead of running under the bed at the jolt, she slowly crawled up my body and started making biscuits on my chest and head until she got her paw caught in my hair. i laughed until i cried a little, yet again.
then i talked to her as i do and thanked her for being her and reminded her that she's perfect the way she is and that i was thankful for her and that she doesn't have to love anyone else; i'm just grateful that she trusts me, even if the best she can do with anyone else is just tolerance. it's a start. she's been through enough and doesn't owe anyone anything; even me.
i never anticipated her; it just happened, and i knew. i'm pretty good at trusting my feelings. she's probably going to give me shit until one of us is gone. probably after, somehow. i'm still going to love her for the rest of my life, and she gets no say in that, no matter how stubborn she is.
