Just about a year ago, I came to the Pootie People here for help. We had adopted a cat, almost 4 years old, who had a very rough beginning. She is a beautiful black pure-bred Maine Coon who was sold to a breeder as a kitten. The breeder was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly thereafter and put all her cats in little cages - and left them there for almost two years. I'm not sure our poor girl, Sabrina, was even fed regularly.
When Sabrina's original breeder discovered what happened, she rescued her and brought her home - and then developed breast cancer herself. In her original home, Sabrina was not caged, but no one really had time for her. The original breeder tried to re-socialize her by grabbing her when she ate and forcing attention on her - which was not the right approach.
When we got Sabrina, she tried to avoid all people contact and slunk around the walls. Below is the description of what has happened in the year since Sabrina came home with us.
My husband and I believed that patience was the key with Sabrina. We committed to do nothing to/with her that she did not want. I came here to Daily KOS to ask advice, and received support for this position - although many told me that she would probably never be a social cat.
Our first interaction was with a zebra-striped dangly toy. Sabrina would hide under our coffee table, but couldn't resist batting at the toy as it came by her. Slowly, she began to chase it out and play with it in front of me.
After about a month, I was working at my desk and heard an awful caterwauling from the hall. I ran out to find Sabrina laying on the rug, just looking at me. She had decided it was time for attention. I cautiously rubbed her briefly. She decided it was enough and left. But, she began to squall for attention more and more frequently, and want attention for longer periods.
Over the year, her attachment to us has grown with increasing speed. And we have come to love her more every day for her antics and eccentricities. She hauls the original zebra-stripe toy through the house with her and calls for attention. (We call it her "blankey" because of her Linus-like attachment to it.) She has HER toys, for the first time in her life, and keeps them all collected together on one specific rug. Her vocalizations have increased so that she now has the loud "come hither slave" yowl, and a soft, purring meow to reward us when we do what we should.
She has a foot fetish. She rubs against my feet as I rub her and bathes my toes. She sleeps with her head in my husband's shoes, except at night when she sleeps in the bed with us - along with two other, larger Maine Coon cats.
As I write, she is in one of her favorite spots, on my desk so she can have me rub her when I look up from the computer.
She actively runs to get in front of us, and on counters and other hand-high objects so she can get rubs. She even ventures into my lap occasionally in the evening for more sustained attention. She is a wonderful and loving pet who loves her people, her kitty playmates, her toys, and her life.
I wanted to write this diary for two reasons: 1) to thank all of you who gave help and support last year; and 2) to encourage any one who has any doubts to consider the joy you can get from adopting a grown cat (even a "problem" cat like Sabrina). Sabrina faced a tough life unless someone like us was willing to take a chance on her. As it turned out, she gives us at least as much as we have given her.