After all these years, it took a new cat to get my cat to finally like me
About six years ago I found a tiny kitten in my bushes. She was so little and so scared. Pure white except for her black tail, and some black on her face. She reminded me of a sandwich cookie, so I named her “Cookie.” I brought her into my home, fed her a can of tuna, and filled a bowl with cool, clean water. I went to the pet store and with the help of the staff (who, I might add, must have been on commission that day!) purchased all the necessary supplies for my new kitten.
Because I already had two dogs, I thought Cookie would be safer if I kept her in the basement until she got a little bigger. After a few days, I knew that, with the way she was eating, she would be large enough to handle my dogs pretty soon.
Keep in mind, this was not one of those dark, dank basements. This was simply the lower level of the house, and it got plenty of sunshine through the sliding glass doors that led to the back yard. Also, I made it a point to spend time with her, getting to know her, letting her get to know me. I had always heard that cats could be aloof, but Cookie raised aloofness to an art! It wouldn’t have been so bad that she ignored me unless she was hungry, but she let anyone else love all over her. Me? The person who pulled her out of the bushes? No, I was not permitted to pet her.
She came up stairs after about two weeks, and got along famously with my dogs. The lab pretty much ignored her once Cookie set the boundaries by scratching the poor dog’s nose. The beagle, who spent most of his time sleeping, gave Cookie a few sniffs, realized it wasn’t a raccoon that needed to be chased up the nearest tree, and went back to sleep.
Okay, now I had pulled her out of the bushes, and given her a couple of playmates. Was she grateful? Who knows, she is a cat. Dogs are so much easier to understand.
After a while, Cookie would actually sit on my lap—as long as I didn’t try to touch her! Anyone else could, just not me. And when someone would come to my house, she would act like she never got any attention!! Which, of course, she didn’t, but it wasn’t my fault– she wouldn’t let me pet her.
This went on until~~~
Recently, there was a small calico sitting outside my front window. The poor thing was so skinny, I could see bones sticking out. I started feeding her a bowl of cat food in the mornings. One day, I pulled my car into my driveway and there were about eight cats eating her food! So, to make a long story short, she came inside. My grand-niece named her “Rose.” This cat loved me from the start, and once Cookie realized that Rose was a permanent addition to our family, and was getting pets, she decided to give me a whirl. Finally, sibling rivalry is put to a good use.
Turns out, Cookie really enjoys it when I pet her. I wonder if she ever regrets all those years of simply tolerating me.