Roo, a beautiful 8-week-old fat Tonkinese boy came
downstairs from the spare room where my newest
litter of kittens had been living. I had never let
them come into the kitchen because I was afraid
Humbug would kill them or attack them, even though
he seemed very gentle. My other adults hated him,
and would pick a fight if they could - probably
because he didn't approach them like a normal
adult: he would rush up to them, and of course they
would react angrily. I had given up trying to
integrate them.
As Roo walked past Humbug's tiny box in the
kitchen, Humbug leaned out and smacked him as he
went by: Roo just turned around and smacked him
back: he looked so surprised!
It quickly became apparent that Humbug had arrested
development: his behaviours were all the same as
the kittens - particularly when it came to meeting
new cats (rush up, arch your back, run away!).
Adults don't approach each other this way, but
Humbug had never had a chance to develop normal
adult behaviour. Roo spoke the same language as
him, and though there were 12 other kittens, Roo
became his special friend. I would come into the
kitchen and find Humbug in his box in the most
unbelievably uncomfortable position, and it was
because Roo was curled up asleep in the bottom of
the box and Humbug was trying not to squash him at
the same time as cuddling him. I gave them a bigger
box, but they did seem to prefer the tiny one.
Humbug with his
darling Roo
Humbug and Roo -
inseparable in the box, or out of it.
Humbug adored Roo. He followed him around, learned
to play and learned to interact with other cats. He
loved all the kittens and cuddled up with them
whenever he could, though he still couldn't relate
to the adults. He first ventured out of the kitchen
because he was looking for his friends, and the day
I finally cried for him and all he had gone through
was when the kittens were on my knee, and he came
and curled up there too. It took him about 20
minutes to get across the floor and up onto the
sofa next to me. I could see how desperately he
wanted to be with Roo, who was curled up on my lap
with several of the other kittens, and finally that
desperation won. He watched my left hand stroking
the kitten, and finally understood that this was
also what I was doing to him with my right. He
looked up at my face and for the first time his
whole body seemed to relax as he closed his eyes in
a cat-smile; he laid his head down on Roo's back,
gave a great sigh, and went to sleep.
Sadly, because of his background, Humbug couldn't
go with Roo when he went to his new home (I had
delayed until Roo was 16 weeks old for Humbug), but
by then he trusted me enough and had progressed so
that he wasn't so dependent on the kitten.
Unfortunately the timing of the kittens had been
arranged so that they were gone in time for a trip
I had to take to the USA. I was stuck: the
house-sitter couldn't be expected to keep the girls
away from Humbug, or to give him the 'specialised'
attention he needed, so I had to call on Siamese
Rescue for a home quickly. Even though I would
rather have kept him, it was clear that he was
never going to be part of my household, and this
had to be the way. It was heartbreaking for me, but
I knew it was right for him. No more closed doors.
Edging his way
onto my lap- a historic moment - thank goodness my
camera was in reach!
That final moment
when he reached his friend and realised it was all
going to be all right. He relaxed at last, and I
knew we had won.
Humbug lived with me for nine unforgettable months,
and then he went to a lovely family in Cardiff, as
a companion for their other Siamese cat. Mr and Mrs
Dicks said he was the most wonderful cat! They were
very understanding about his background (the first
night Mr Dicks spent the entire evening lying on
the floor talking to him under their bed) and I had
to laugh when, two weeks after they took him, they
phoned to ask if it would be OK to stroke him yet,
as he kept coming and tickling Mr Dicks's fingers
with his whiskers! They said that after a
hair-raising mad chase around the house, he and
their other Siamese curled up together and were
inseparable from then on. When you think what a
large proportion of his life had been filled with
pain, unhappiness and deprivation, it is incredible
to think of him recovering so well.
Humbug and Roo,
with the cuddly toy in the background, no longer
needed now.
The story has a happy ending for him, but sad for
me. About a year after I last spoke to them, I
called the family in Cardiff but they had moved
away without leaving a new number. I was desolate,
as I wanted to stay in touch with them and remember
this beautiful and special cat. I'm hoping that
putting his story on the web may find his family,
and I might have news of him again.
If you're rescuing a disturbed cat, the most
important thing to remember is DON'T RUSH IT. The
stroke-before-food is the most difficult stage, as
it seems so unkind, but this is the only way for
them to learn them that only good things come from
your hands. Talk all the time, and don't make eye
contact! It worked for Humbug. I know that some
rescued cats are very vicious, and undoubtedly
there are animals that can't be rehabilitated, but
Humbug proved that even the most disturbed animal
can be saved with patience, even if you have no
experience or expertise. He taught me so much, and
many other rescues have benefited from what this
beautiful cat gave to me.
If you would
like to donate money to rescue, which is used for
veterinary care or fostering costs, please either
contact me, or contact any of the major breed
rescue organisations. Each breed club in the UK
runs rescue for their own breed, to ensure that
their particular needs are met, and that the
resources of societies like Cat's Protection are
not used for pedigree breeds, whose breeders should
take responsibility for the wellbeing of cats they
caused to be born.
