|Posted on April 2, 2009 at 12:24 PM||comments (1)|
Within a day, I knew I'd got a cat that would provide me with many, many stories to tell...
The process of acquiring an RSPCA rescue cat is relatively simple. For me it involved the following:
1) Phoning up the local branch, explaining my needs, being informed of cats that might be appropriate for me.
2) Visiting the cat(s) at the sanctuary to see if you like each other.
3) Deciding on a cat.
4) A home visit from someone from the RSPCA to assess your home and discuss issues with you.
5) Collecting the cat from the sactuary and taking it home- its yours!
It was #5 that caused me so much trouble because my cat is a diva kitty.
Having gone through the process and having fallen in love with 'Tifa, I arrived with my newly purchased cat carrier to the lovely people at The Dog Tub (the confusingly named cattery that work with the RSPCA as a cat santuary). 'Tifa was as affectionate and friendly as she had been when I'd come to meet her the weekend before when I had met her. She was so lovely.
Lovely that is, until I attempted to get her into the cat carrier. She really didn't want to get in that carrier. She hissed and clawed and faught against it like it was going to kill her. Two attempts in, the member of staff from the Dog Tub and let her have 5 minutes to calm down. It was at this point, that the member of staff (who's name I have subsequently forgotten - sorry!) showed me a fantastic little tactic to fool diva kitties into getting into a carrier that they don't want to get it. You simply back them up into it! By the time they realise what you've done, they're halfway in, and you can push them the rest with the grill, and lock them in!
Once in the carrier, 'Tifa spat and screamed and hissed and faught against it furiously. And it didn't stop. She quite obviously hated it, and I felt like the absolute personification of evil at that point. I was reassured that she'd calm down and once out of the carrier and in her new home, she'd quickly forget it.
So I set off on the 15 mile journey home over a number of country roads. She was still fighting against the carrier like a trooper, and I constantly had to (quite dangerously, obviously) hold it down so that she didn't roll it onto the floor/ into me/ onto the gear stick and handbreak. I was nervous, worried about the cat, and worried about my driving. I didn't think it could get any worse, so I gritted my teeth, drove carefully and slowly, and reassured myself that 15 miles wasn't all that far.
Unfortunately, I was wrong. 'Tifa proceeded to do a poo and a wee. Of course, being in a confined box with poo and wee that you can't actually avoid stepping in isnt pleasant for anyone, and 'Tifa made sure she made me know that she was enduring this. I didn't think it was possible, but she screamed even louder and faught even harder... and then proceeded to flick the poo and wee all over the car, my stuff, and me. Lovely.
Well I eventually got home without crashing or the cat escaping the carrier (the agression of the mad cat V the carrier made me think she'd actually manage to break out!), and let her out of the carrier. I was so upset and worried that her first experience of me and her new home was tantamount to torture and that she'd hate me forever and never settle in. Of course, I was being a big queeny worrier, and after a few hours and the opportunity to clean herself, she was fine.
And she was mine.
I subsequently learned that 'Tifa's reluctance and rage at the carrier was probably due to her needing the loo, and even though she's the diva kitty, she'll probably not be anywhere near as bad if I'm not so unlucky with timing the next time.
Gotta love her: diva kitty.
Gotta laugh at me: panicy drama queen.