The mellow black cat who lived in my house when I was small loved to be held and cuddled. I would carry Midnight around on my shoulders, or he would curl, purring, on any available lap.When I met him, the ex had several cats with whom he co-existed, but were hardly cuddly. I got all three to like me picking them up, in varying degrees. When ex moved, they decided not to move with him (gosh, wonder why.)
Holding a cat in my arms feels like giving a friend a hug, I suppose, bringing them up face to face, a kind of equality in affection.
Moby is not the cuddliest of cats. He does not claw or bite, but wrenches himself away very effectively. Polite, friendly, he likes to hang out near wherever we are, lean on us. He started sleeping on us after about four months, probably for warmth as much as anything. But generally, he's not one for laps. It took a long time just to get him comfortable with shoulders. As soon as he stopped hiding, I started lifting him up. As soon as he squirmed, I would gently put him down. Gradually holding him a few seconds into the squirm, but every time placing him down easily, so that he came to trust the motion.
When he seemed to actually like being held for a minute at a time, as long as he was in the mood, with a token body gesture to let me know he was done, I encouraged D to start as well. He was new-papa nervous, and it took him a while to get an arm configuration that worked for both of them. Moby would let D hold him longer, sooner, clearly happy to get his claws into D's sweater, chin on his shoulder, and purr like mad. D's face would crinkle in pleased amazement, soft fur against his cheek. During that first year, D would observe that he never realized that having a cat "would be so personal." Moby treads the lines between roommate and friend and child, scratching out his own role, with his own rules.
The affection is a matter of choice, every time, for this cat. Often, a proffered hand gets an affronted, "No, don't touch me!" move away. An attempt at a pick up is met with an eloquent body arch, feet splayed for landing. "No, no, no, no.... NO. Geeze, people." Or a walk around the apartment, a funny bit, where I walk after him, and he lets me keep up, but makes sure to stay just out of reach. "Look, I've got cat things to do. You wouldn't understand." When he gets tired of this game, he goes under, knowing I will not pull him out, generally. (Only for an emergency, like when the fire alarm went off last year.) We don't even try to hold him when he is chasey.
So, while D's hand healed, he was very anxious about picking Moby up. And Moby felt the worry. The other day, when that photo of the two of them was made, was the first time they held each other like that. Much joy and purring.
D's hand is at 90% after therapy. He's Good at healing.
3 comments:
I think it's a trust thing. I've never known a kitten that liked to be cuddled for very long, but when they learn that you mean no harm and they can get down as soon as they want, they're happier to hang around.
"The affection is a matter of choice, every time, for this cat."
Same here. My cat dodges away if you stroke him while he's walking around, but he will walk up to you, back arched, to say, "Okay, now you can stroke me."
I'd have to get used to a cat again, after a dog. I tend to be a bit heavy handed with them.
P,
We visited a cat rescue place, and one cat was very demanding of all the attention available. Pushy, even. We thought it funny, but knew we could never live with a cat like that. Every time we stopped petting, a paw came out, "no, no, you're not done here!"
L,
Just think of it as a teacup dog breed... No, don't, actually, those itsy over-engineered critters creep me out. Moby could eat one of them for lunch. Some cats do take a firm hand. Moby loves a good massage, but he's a pretty well muscled cat. Those fragile, slim felines feel breakable to me too.
Post a Comment