Supporting the shy ones

 Perhaps we should start by admitting that 'shy' in this context is often a euphemism. It's an umbrella term for the timid, wild, semi-feral, unsocialised or scared kittens, and possibly a few more. And those kinds of kittens need to be fostered and (re)socialized, as not many people out there are keen on adopting 'troubled' feline individuals.

Claudia Jean, shy and then some

Anyway, I'll keep using 'shy' here - it's kinda cute, too, and it implies helplessness. And what's more appealing to our good side than a chance to help someone small and vulnerable, to be someone's (very patient) personal Batman/Jesus/Superman?

The very first shy kitten we had I called Maris. I called her Maris in honour of Niles Crane's elusive wife in Frasier - one of the best ever off-screen characters in my opinion. So, just like Niles' Maris from Frasier, my Maris was never to be seen. You see, I was a true novice back then and I thought that having a chest in the kitten room under which there was just enough space for a kitten to hide was a good idea. The chest was also draped over by an old sofa cover, which I thought would be lovely for the kittens to hold on to whilst climbing up the chest. And to be fair, most of the time it was.

As soon as Maris arrived, it took her half a millisecond to discover the great hiding potential under the chest. She was just too freaked out to appreciate the great climbing opportunities also available, unfortunately. On her first day she never came out while I was in the room. But I thought, let's give her some time. So for a few days I just sat there with my back against the chest, reading TS Eliot's feline verses out loud. Because I thought she should get used to my voice and learn that it doesn't entail any harm. Plus, poetry is the pinnacle of human utterance and I wanted to represent our species in the most flattering light possible.

I also tried to use play - it always works with kittens (and children, I've noticed). What that meant was that I started very gently poking the chest cover with a stick I had, and after a while she responded! Now and again she forgot her shyness and tried to grab the stick through the fabric. As I said, it works. Another pretty sure-fire thing that works is food. Of course, no surprises there. And on the third day, after I'd removed the cover from the chest, she came out to eat, while still looking at me suspiciously.

All this gave me hope and I thought all we need is time, time, time - we'll take it slow, she and I, and we'll become best buddies one day. We'll just sit and sit and sit and read and play, and one day she'll sit and sit and sit on my lap. Just give me loads of time! Well, the charity found people who had experience with insecure cats and were willing to adopt my Maris just as she was. Getting her into the travel carrier required the help of a pro, because of course she just didn't trust me yet.

So I consider my Maris my failure. Well, in time (ahem) I've learnt that yes, Tom Waits is absolutely right - it is indeed time that we love. And in hindsight I've learnt not to be too hard on myself over my Maris. And I'm sure that with all the time she got in her real home she was able to fully self-actualize.

But I learnt some lessons with my Maris. And the next time we had a timid foster kitten, I allowed her to have the luxury of hiding under the chest for day one, but the next morning I removed the cover and later also the chest. So this kitten was left with no choice but to get to know us and her new surroundings, and realize sooner rather than later that it's fun and safe to be around humans, especially when it means lots of playtime and food and clean toilet and bedding. By the by, they really do appreciate a freshly cleaned room (and with our cats we've noticed that as soon as we've changed our bed sheets, they find our bed irresistible again after having shunned it for a week or so; you know, after it had gotten all used and tainted:).

Of course, age is a factor, too. As they say, an old dog can't learn new tricks, or something like that. I don't think that's always true, though. To be sure, some specialists insist that a kitten must be handled by humans within the first 7-8 weeks of its life, otherwise it can't be properly socialized. But by that token every stray or semi-feral kitten discovered/rescued after their two-month birthday should be considered doomed to life without a human family. Fortunately, that's most often not the case, as we know from experience. Of course, we have to concede that not every stray or semi-feral cat will become a lap-loving pet, but I think it's important whenever possible to give them some time (yes, again😉) with us humans to figure out what kind of setting would suit them best.

Last summer we had two beautiful 7-month-old tabbies who joined our ‘veteran’ foster kitten (she’d been with us for a month then, but considering that she was only 3.5 months old, it was almost half her lifetime;).

They came from a farm somewhere, as they often do in this neck of the woods. For the first three days, the youngest oldest member of our foster family became very possessive and defensive and kept growling like some big scary cat at the newcomers. Which probably didn’t help matters with Lolly, the shy one of the tabby sisters.
On the very first day I managed to find out that Lolly loved a cuddle and a good belly rub, she just didn’t know how to ask for them, or whether it was proper to ask for them. And when she spotted a human, she ran, and if she could help it, hid.
After I had removed the chest from the kitten room after our first couple of shy kittens, I replaced it with a chair which I placed under the window for easy access to great views once they’re able to climb or jump that high. This chair is just an old hideous plastic chair that I blanket from top to bottom with an old duvet cover; I also have a cushion on it as a potential bed for the kittens (and usually they do make it their boudoir/throne at some point). As you can imagine, the cover on the chair means there’s a perfect hiding place underneath it. Cats need hiding places, of course; and I still think it’s better to provide them with hideouts you know, rather than have them turn your secret novelty sock drawer into their secret shelter😉. Lolly unsurprisingly loved the under-chair lair. Every time one of us walked into the room, she’d dash in there. And stay there. And she required some serious persuasion to even consider stepping out.

But, like I said I had discovered that she’s mad for cuddles, so I delicately dragged her out of the lair (by placing my hand around her bum and sliding her forward on the floor – she was pretty docile, that move wouldn’t work on a more volatile creature, of course), I placed her on my lap and enjoyed the sweet sound of purrs as I stroked her. And I tried to do it 3-5 times a day – repetition rocks when it comes to behavioural conditioning. And she truly couldn’t get enough, once she got going – she would leave my lap only to circle me, pressing her body tightly against my legs, begging for further fondles. (I know that out of context this last bit reads like I’m trying to write 50 shades of something😊. Get your mind out of the gutter now!)

On the third morning I demolished her lair – well, I lifted up the duvet cover so that the chair’s ugly legs became exposed; but that’s no biggie, because between those dreadful legs sat she. And that was beautiful! Out of habit (how very feline of her:), she still kept running in there as we entered the room; only now we could see her under the unattractive chair! She could see us too, of course, which seemed to confuse her a bit.

Nonetheless, ultimately this move provided us with yet more space for play, and she did relish our interactions between the hideous plastic legs, the pillars of her former lair.
The other two kittens (youngest oldest member and Lolly’s sister) liked to join me in the bathroom when I cleaned their litter trays. Lolly’s sister loved to sit next to the tray and watch me in action, sometimes offering a helping paw, when she noticed a spot I’d missed – there’s always one of those among the kittens, I’ve noticed, and in this lot she was it😉. For the first four days Lolly kept away from the busy bathroom (either in her now exposed lair, or perhaps in a tunnel in the hall). But on day 5 I spotted her peeking in from behind the door frame. She ran away when she saw me see her, though. However, she didn’t mind at all going into the bathroom with the other felines. In the morning of day 6 when I was again cleaning their trays, I again noticed Lolly peeking at us, but this time she didn’t run away when our eyes met. Instead, she waited for the moment when I was concentrating on the tray and then very swiftly ran past me to join the others on the windowsill. Progress! Now we just have to wait for her to saunter, not scurry, past me😉, I thought. Or – dare I dream – to stop by my side!
After breakfast on day 7 Lolly came calmly into the bathroom, sat down next to me, and commenced her postprandial cleaning ritual! She’s gonna be fine, I thought. She’s gonna be a great pet.
To prepare her and her sister further for their impending adoption (they were to be adopted together, which is always good to see), I left their door open for their last few nights with us; so in addition to the kitten room, they also had the hall to roam/play/sleep in. It’s kind of like preparing them to leave the nest, I suppose. Kind of like building their confidence by teaching them independence and showing that you trust them, I guess. Mind you, whenever we’ve done this, they’ve always ended up sleeping in their own kitten room – even if there’s a bed or a few available in the hall. And these girl kittens were no exception. In the morning they came running from their room to greet me. But the hall had been put to ample use overnight – every single rug was either crumpled-up or turned upside down😊.
So it took Lolly a week to come out of her shell (she still needed to learn that new people are OK too, but she got there, and when their adopter came to collect them, she wasn’t running or hiding anywhere, she just sat proudly on the desk, looking down at us sitting on the floor admiring her). Yes, undoubtedly she wasn’t a really ‘difficult’ case. For instance, I could handle her without gloves from day 1, which is a lot more than can be said about some other kittens I’ve met; she was also instinctively into human contact from the off, so that helped a great deal, too. But I see her as the cat that helped me become much more methodical in my approach to the shy ones. It seems as though before her I was mostly just winging it, while with her everything we did felt thought-through and purposeful.

 So I’ll always be grateful for that experience and Lolly will always be one of our great little success stories. And the picture of Lolly and her sister that their adopter sent me will always decorate the wall in our hall – as something for the other ‘shy ones’ to aspire to😊.

PS. Mae West said, too much of a good thing can be wonderful, and time (you’ll get no apologies for the repeats here😉) of course is one of the very best things available to us. So now I think it’s time to finally turn to the aforementioned Mr Tom Waits and his masterpiece “Time”. But I’ll leave a link to a Tori Amos cover of it here (with an introduction by Letterman and everything), because it’s almost unbelievably beautiful, and I think a female voice fits the end of this tale with an all-female cast of shy young things.