Reassure me I'm not a bad person?
I promise one of these days soon here, I'll give an honest to God, happy update about how Finn's doing, 'cause he's doing great - but right now, I'm kinda down.
So tomorrow, we are dropping our cat of 11 years off at the no-kill shelter here in Reno.
We adopted Toxie from the Humane Society about 3 days after we moved to Reno, September of 2002. We had gone there planning to adopt a kitten, but as soon as we saw Toxie, who was about a year old at the time, we fell in love with him and had to have him. Almost immediately, he began exhibiting behavior problems - completely unprovoked, he would attack us, biting our arms and legs hard enough to tear the flesh, draw blood and leave long, ugly, jagged scars. I can’t even tell you how many times I had to run from this cat and lock myself in the bathroom, crying, while Ian would have to throw a towel over his head or something and lock him in the bedroom so we could tend to my wounds. We called our vet at the time and asked what we should do and he told me, flat out, I’m not even kidding: “Put the cat down, he will never get better, I’ve seen this before.” We decided this man was Evil, and we had made a commitment to Toxie and would stick it out.
Fast forward ELEVEN YEARS LATER. Over the years, we’ve tried positive reinforcement (extra petting and love and treats when he’s good, and letting him sleep with us even though we were terrified for a long time and I’ve woken up more than once to Teeth In My Arm). We’ve tried punishment (noise makers to startle him when he attacks, a squirt bottle which I can’t leave the room without these days, and shutting him in another room when he attacks). We’ve tried behavior training (namely something I read about teaching the cat to respect you by having him do a “trick” for his food, so that he learns that he depends upon YOU for food and you are the master. It didn’t work, but I did manage to teach him to sit for his food, which is a cool party trick…). We’ve tried medication (some sedatives in the form of treats that his vet gave us after Finn was born which worked, until Toxie figured out that he was being sedated, and started refusing to take the treats and eating around them if we mix them into his food. Liquid medication or pills are not an option, as he would send one or both of us to the hospital giving them to him). We’ve talked about starting to let him outside, but he’s been an indoor cat all his life, and there are coyotes here in Reno, and that would just be cruel as he would almost certainly either A: be hit by a car, or B: killed by a wild animal. At one point years and years ago, I seriously wrote to Sars at Tomato Nation and asked her for her advice, which was, if memory serves "Look for a no-kill shelter." We’ve had him examined multiple times by three different vets to confirm that he has no health issues which would make him act this way - he’s healthy as a friggin’ HORSE, he’s just, for lack of a better term, a jerk. He’s also nearly 20 lbs and pure muscle, so when he comes after you it’s TERRIFYING. My body is covered with scars from this cat, and that is no exaggeration. When we’d go on vacation and ask someone to watch him, they would be seriously afraid of him the whole time. Over the years, we told ourselves he was getting better, but the truth of it is, when I look back, there still pretty much has not been a single day for the last eleven years that he has not come after one of us at least once - I think after a time, until Finn was born, we just got used to it and accepted it as a fact of life. After Finn was born, it got even worse because suddenly, he’s not getting as much attention as he used to. It’s particularly bad toward me: I cannot walk through the room without getting attacked. I cannot sit in the living room without the water bottle, because he comes after me repeatedly until he and the floor are soaked. I cannot eat a meal at the dining room table without him sneaking under the table and biting my legs. I cannot carry Finn around without the fucking cat sneaking up on me and attacking me, and THAT IS NO FUCKING BUENO.
In the meantime, Finn is about 30 seconds away from learning to crawl and getting seriously mobile, and we are PETRIFIED at the thought of this baby coming into contact with this bloodthirsty monster of a cat. What happens the first time he innocently tugs on Toxie’s tail because he’s a BABY and doesn’t know better? Not only that, but almost worse for me is the thought of Finn growing up watching me squirting the cat daily to keep him away from me, and thinking that this is how you raise a pet. It is not, and I know that, and I WILL NOT have Finn growing up thinking that way. A pet is a member of the family which you should love and respect. The thing is, that love and respect has to go both ways, and it is does not with Toxie, and has not for…well, pretty much ever.
So, we decided that Toxie needed to find a new home. We put the word out with our friends, but they all KNOW him, and NONE of them would even entertain the idea of taking him. Ian’s mother thought about it, but then decided that taking him to her home in Northern California would be too traumatizing to the cat. We decided against putting an ad in the paper or on Craig’s List, because there are just too many sickos out there and God knows what might happen to him. So we went to his current vet, and she gave Ian a list of numbers which he spent ALL DAY yesterday calling, but none of them would take him, either because of his age, or because of his aggressive nature, or because he does not have any health issues which qualify him for “rescue.” The only place that agreed to take him is the no-kill shelter, and they are charging us $25.00 to do it. So tomorrow, at 1:00 pm, that’s where he’s going.
I feel absolutely horrible. It’s like an abusive relationship where, once it’s over, all you can see are the good times. I remember every time we went on vacation, how I’d worry constantly about Toxie, and how he would just light up when we walked through the door. I remember how eventually we started boarding him when we’d leave town (because none of our friends wanted to watch him anymore), and how we’d pay extra to give him a suite next to a window so he could watch the birds at the bird feeder. I remember playing with his fishing pole and getting him jumping, like, four feet into the air. I remember when we finally felt able to let him sleep with us, and how he did for years, and how sweet it was to wake up with my kitty cat curled at the foot of the bed. I remember when he cut his paw so badly, and how awful I felt and how I agonized for weeks with him while he had to have it bandaged, and had to be sedated so I could pick him back up. I remember bringing him to the new house, and us being so excited, hoping that maybe having his own house and all this extra space to explore might mellow him out a little. I remember each and every toy and scratching post we bought him over the years, and I wonder what we are going to do with them all now and I start crying. I do not agree with giving an animal up, it’s something I swore I would never, ever do - a pet is a member of the family, not a piece of furniture to give away when it inconveniences you. I love that bastard cat with all my heart, and I wish I could make him understand that if he would JUST STOP ATTACKING US he could stay. But after 11 years of this, and now that Finn is here and ABSOLUTELY YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT GODDAMN COMES FIRST, I’m just done.
Please tell me I’m doing the right thing.
So tomorrow, we are dropping our cat of 11 years off at the no-kill shelter here in Reno.
We adopted Toxie from the Humane Society about 3 days after we moved to Reno, September of 2002. We had gone there planning to adopt a kitten, but as soon as we saw Toxie, who was about a year old at the time, we fell in love with him and had to have him. Almost immediately, he began exhibiting behavior problems - completely unprovoked, he would attack us, biting our arms and legs hard enough to tear the flesh, draw blood and leave long, ugly, jagged scars. I can’t even tell you how many times I had to run from this cat and lock myself in the bathroom, crying, while Ian would have to throw a towel over his head or something and lock him in the bedroom so we could tend to my wounds. We called our vet at the time and asked what we should do and he told me, flat out, I’m not even kidding: “Put the cat down, he will never get better, I’ve seen this before.” We decided this man was Evil, and we had made a commitment to Toxie and would stick it out.
Fast forward ELEVEN YEARS LATER. Over the years, we’ve tried positive reinforcement (extra petting and love and treats when he’s good, and letting him sleep with us even though we were terrified for a long time and I’ve woken up more than once to Teeth In My Arm). We’ve tried punishment (noise makers to startle him when he attacks, a squirt bottle which I can’t leave the room without these days, and shutting him in another room when he attacks). We’ve tried behavior training (namely something I read about teaching the cat to respect you by having him do a “trick” for his food, so that he learns that he depends upon YOU for food and you are the master. It didn’t work, but I did manage to teach him to sit for his food, which is a cool party trick…). We’ve tried medication (some sedatives in the form of treats that his vet gave us after Finn was born which worked, until Toxie figured out that he was being sedated, and started refusing to take the treats and eating around them if we mix them into his food. Liquid medication or pills are not an option, as he would send one or both of us to the hospital giving them to him). We’ve talked about starting to let him outside, but he’s been an indoor cat all his life, and there are coyotes here in Reno, and that would just be cruel as he would almost certainly either A: be hit by a car, or B: killed by a wild animal. At one point years and years ago, I seriously wrote to Sars at Tomato Nation and asked her for her advice, which was, if memory serves "Look for a no-kill shelter." We’ve had him examined multiple times by three different vets to confirm that he has no health issues which would make him act this way - he’s healthy as a friggin’ HORSE, he’s just, for lack of a better term, a jerk. He’s also nearly 20 lbs and pure muscle, so when he comes after you it’s TERRIFYING. My body is covered with scars from this cat, and that is no exaggeration. When we’d go on vacation and ask someone to watch him, they would be seriously afraid of him the whole time. Over the years, we told ourselves he was getting better, but the truth of it is, when I look back, there still pretty much has not been a single day for the last eleven years that he has not come after one of us at least once - I think after a time, until Finn was born, we just got used to it and accepted it as a fact of life. After Finn was born, it got even worse because suddenly, he’s not getting as much attention as he used to. It’s particularly bad toward me: I cannot walk through the room without getting attacked. I cannot sit in the living room without the water bottle, because he comes after me repeatedly until he and the floor are soaked. I cannot eat a meal at the dining room table without him sneaking under the table and biting my legs. I cannot carry Finn around without the fucking cat sneaking up on me and attacking me, and THAT IS NO FUCKING BUENO.
In the meantime, Finn is about 30 seconds away from learning to crawl and getting seriously mobile, and we are PETRIFIED at the thought of this baby coming into contact with this bloodthirsty monster of a cat. What happens the first time he innocently tugs on Toxie’s tail because he’s a BABY and doesn’t know better? Not only that, but almost worse for me is the thought of Finn growing up watching me squirting the cat daily to keep him away from me, and thinking that this is how you raise a pet. It is not, and I know that, and I WILL NOT have Finn growing up thinking that way. A pet is a member of the family which you should love and respect. The thing is, that love and respect has to go both ways, and it is does not with Toxie, and has not for…well, pretty much ever.
So, we decided that Toxie needed to find a new home. We put the word out with our friends, but they all KNOW him, and NONE of them would even entertain the idea of taking him. Ian’s mother thought about it, but then decided that taking him to her home in Northern California would be too traumatizing to the cat. We decided against putting an ad in the paper or on Craig’s List, because there are just too many sickos out there and God knows what might happen to him. So we went to his current vet, and she gave Ian a list of numbers which he spent ALL DAY yesterday calling, but none of them would take him, either because of his age, or because of his aggressive nature, or because he does not have any health issues which qualify him for “rescue.” The only place that agreed to take him is the no-kill shelter, and they are charging us $25.00 to do it. So tomorrow, at 1:00 pm, that’s where he’s going.
I feel absolutely horrible. It’s like an abusive relationship where, once it’s over, all you can see are the good times. I remember every time we went on vacation, how I’d worry constantly about Toxie, and how he would just light up when we walked through the door. I remember how eventually we started boarding him when we’d leave town (because none of our friends wanted to watch him anymore), and how we’d pay extra to give him a suite next to a window so he could watch the birds at the bird feeder. I remember playing with his fishing pole and getting him jumping, like, four feet into the air. I remember when we finally felt able to let him sleep with us, and how he did for years, and how sweet it was to wake up with my kitty cat curled at the foot of the bed. I remember when he cut his paw so badly, and how awful I felt and how I agonized for weeks with him while he had to have it bandaged, and had to be sedated so I could pick him back up. I remember bringing him to the new house, and us being so excited, hoping that maybe having his own house and all this extra space to explore might mellow him out a little. I remember each and every toy and scratching post we bought him over the years, and I wonder what we are going to do with them all now and I start crying. I do not agree with giving an animal up, it’s something I swore I would never, ever do - a pet is a member of the family, not a piece of furniture to give away when it inconveniences you. I love that bastard cat with all my heart, and I wish I could make him understand that if he would JUST STOP ATTACKING US he could stay. But after 11 years of this, and now that Finn is here and ABSOLUTELY YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT GODDAMN COMES FIRST, I’m just done.
Please tell me I’m doing the right thing.