COLUMN: My cat hates kennels

Posted

It's time to go to war with my cat.

Nearly two years ago, I took my then-skinny calico, Annie, off the streets. She lost her previous home in a fire and the owners never came back for her, so she was officially a stray. Now, as someone who had a terrible cat allergy, I never had the idea to adopt a cat but I must not have given off that notion because she selected my garage as her new refuge.

Slowly over that spring and summer, I earned her trust with cans of food, treats and a safe place to sleep. Eventually, the weather turned cold and I was readying for a move, so I decided I was going to have a cat.

A rocky adjustment period and two moves later, she's adapted to the good life indoors, but some of her survival instincts she developed as a street cat still exist. She's stubborn, wary of people and is very good at hiding in tiny places despite being twice the size she was when I first found her. All that adds up to the war I mentioned up top.

I'm getting ready to visit a friend for a few days and need to leave her with my parents. Remember how I mentioned she's stubborn and can hide really well? Well, that becomes a problem when I have to try to wrangle her into her kennel. Last time, it ended with me standing the couch up on its end so she'd stop crawling underneath it.

The “wary of people” part also plays a role in this too. My parents, especially my dad, are animal lovers. Whenever one of us kids has to leave, they're the first to volunteer to pet sit. Annie does not appreciate that sentiment. The last time she stayed with them, she found hiding spots I don't think they knew existed in their home. Then one day I got a picture from my mom of Annie sound asleep on my dad's lap and my dad with a face that said, “If I move, she'll kill me.”

That picture was an indication that she was slowly shedding some of her old ways. Later on in her stay, she'd run to greet whoever came to check on her, because she knew that meant treat time. Now at my home, instead of running to hide when the door opens, she'll cautiously watch from the highest point possible.

Annie has a completely different attitude than she did when I found her eating old birdseed in my yard and sneaking into my garage. But one thing that has not improved is her tolerance of the kennel and by the time you read this, just hope I still have all my fingers.