Kitty Update

May 13, 2006

Man, this kitty business is taking a lot out of me – mostly emotionally! Martin is not a fighter. Even since Miss Madison came on the scene, my sweet adorable Martin has not gone into attack mode. His defense is to retreat. Every time. He’s a lover, not a fighter, I swear!. (Notwithstanding the evil kitty pictured here. . . .)

It all started with normal hissing. Martin is simply warning her that he is king and she shouldn't mess with him. Over the past 5-1/2 weeks, Martin has added this alien deep, throaty growl to his hissing - it's a scary sound I've never heard before; while Miss Madison has decided that pouncing upon poor Martin while he’s cornered is the best response. Ugh! That’s not what I want her to do!

Honestly, I don't think she's being mean. I think the pouncing is all a front. I am pretty sure she just doesn’t know what to do with this big Tom cat that outweighs her by 4.3 pounds. (Originally I thought he was twice her weight, but after their vet visits I found out she’s a lot bigger than I thought – 11.5 pounds – and that Martin had lost a few pounds since New York. He's down to 15.8, his lowest weight yet since I got him. He's my lean, mean, fraidy cat machine.)

The attacking has been tearing me up because Martin seems petrified of Madison. I broke up every fight as soon as she pounced on the innocent Martin. And, event though the nice lady at Howard County Animal Control told me to let them finish a fight, I’ve had a really hard time not protecting Martin – so there’s been no resolving anything!

Unfortunately, Martin was about six months overdue for a medical check-up, so last night I took him to the vet. It turned into a disaster. He was so agitated when they tried to get his blood pressure that he hid in the crevice on the floor behind the examination table and wouldn’t let anyone go near him. He even hissed and bared his teeth at me! I'd never seen him like this before and attributed it to the stress of Madison's advances added to the terror of going to a vet (and a new vet at that). I felt badly for him – as did the doctor.

Finally, I distracted Martin, and the assistant pulled him out by the scruff of the neck. (I read somewhere that cats hate it when you do that to them.) We managed to get him back in his carry bag. . . all but his head. The idea was to calm him down enough to finish the exam. Everyone left the room but me, and I petted his exposed head and tried to soothe him for several minutes. He was so upset. Eventually, he had enough of that crap. He wanted out of that bag and out of that room so badly that he hissed at me – in a gentle, warning sort of way. I pushed him all the way into the bag and zipped it up.

When the doc came back in, I told him that Martin wasn’t going to let him go anywhere near him. So he sent us home at no charge, and we rescheduled for June. I felt terrible for poor Martin. At that moment, I decided that Madison had to go back to the shelter. No matter what, I wasn’t going to let her out of her room last night so Martin could regroup.

But later when I went in to play with her and comb her, she purred and nuzzled her face against mine over and over. So I got all teary-eyed at the thought of sending her back to animal control today. I couldn't bear the idea of incarcerating her again. I'm such a bad mom! I had to leave the room just to stop crying. (Now who's the big baby?)

Today I got up early and got Madison's papers in order. I planned to take her back to Animal Control when they opened at 10:00. But I thought about it some more and decided that I’d probably regret giving her up without trying one last time and actually letting them fight it out at least once, as advised by an expert.

Ugh. So today while Martin was up in his perch I coaxed Madison into the room. She got within about eight feet of him, saw him, and said nothing. He saw her and hissed. She meowed back at him and hissed a little. Then she sat down for a bit and just looked at him, not going a paw closer. Finally she gave up, turned around, and walked away. Progress! For once she didn’t jump him. (I think that’s because he was higher up than she was – which gives him an offensive advantage.) She has spent the rest of the day minding her own business, even though all doors are wide open.

Martin has been in one of his kitty beds behind my TV chair in the corner of the basement. At one point, I couldn't find Madison in the house. I went up and down the stairs calling to her a couple times. Usually she comes when I call. Finally, I saw her walking out of the TV room! But there hadn't been a fight (I would've heard it). That means she was in the same room with him without pestering him. Either that, or she didn't know he was in there, which I find hard to believe.

So we’re trying again. I’ll give it a little more time. Maybe we can break Madison of this habit after all. Martin seems to have recuperated from the vet disaster. In fact, last night , he repeatedly visited me while I was watching TV in the basement. Each time he'd look me right in the eye as if to say, “Do you forgive me?”

My poor baby.

"That's right, Missy. You'd better stay where you are."