Yesterday as I walked past her, she rolled over to bare her belly. I wasn’t foolish enough to actually touch her belly but I did gently rub under her chin a couple of times before walking away. I didn’t feel a purr, but she also didn’t bite me or rake me with her claws.
Then last night, she came up and relaxed on the arm of the sofa where I was sitting. I didn’t reach out to touch her, just acknowledged her by talking to her. After a few minutes, she reached out and rubbed her head against my hand.
A couple of rubs under the chin and a head rub may not seem like much, but for a formerly — or perhaps still — feral cat who only loved my late husband Paul, I feel like we’ve made huge progress.
There is still a long way to go. I can’t pick her up yet, or even brush her, without damaging our fragile peace. I’m just hoping that she remains safe and healthy until she trusts me enough that we can make some faster progress. Meanwhile, I’m trying to build trust by not pushing her too fast and by bribing her with tasty tempting bits of meat. She really likes turkey so I always have some in the refrigerator.
Last night, Xena made me laugh while she startled Sisko. I have a curly willow tree in the backyard. It’s a self pruner and drops small twigs and sticks on a regular basis. Sisko came into the house with a small stick, dragging some long twigs behind him.
Xena, who was on the sofa, took off after the twigs, playing pat-pat with them. Sisko, who is afraid of Xena, started circling the living room, with the twigs dragging behind him and Xena chasing him. I think he was so concerned about the cat he didn’t even think about dropping the stick. Eventually it broke, though, and Xena — as the victor — demolished the twigs.
I, of course, got to clean up the mess.
Photo: Xena on my clothes on the bed. Photo by Liz Palika.
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