Last week I passed a cage in the doublewide with a new occupant and a sign proclaiming that occupant as “VERY UNFRIENDLY!” in large letters.
Some new arrivals are left well enough alone, and so I didn’t both him further than a quick food and water swap.
This week, Leslie was able to tell me a bit about Cashew. He’d been in a smaller cage awaiting adoption at the No. 5 Rd. shelter, but turned out to be not at all the kind of cat who takes well to being caged. And he’d show his displeasure by hissing, spitting and swatting enough to make him miserable to deal with and impossible to convince any sane person to adopt. So he was sent to the sanctuary in hopes he’ll be happier there.
Our ever-patient Marianne has been spending time sitting with him, so that now he thinks she’s kind of OK. She’s also discovered that he has a soft spot for tuna. As for the rest of the world, Cashew’s still pretty suspicious. I went into his cage and sat with him for a while this evening, and was rewarded with being allowed to stroke his head and around his ears for some time. He even took a couple of treats right from my fingers. Any time I left and came back, though, it was like he’d never seen me or decided to accept me and I had to start all over.
It’ll take a while to teach Cashew to trust all of us all the time rather than a select few some of the time. But, despite the spirited hiss he gave me when I walked past his cage, smiled at him and asked how he was, he doesn’t seem like a bad cat. And quite possibly not even a mean cat. Time will tell.