I have been owned by cats my whole life, enough of them to know that they all have their own personalities. Some have been more standoffish than others, some have been so in my face that they made me nuts. Enter my current cat, a ridiculous Maine Coon named, Colette. Colette is a rescue beast, one that I found at a shelter/vet’s office around Christmas one year. The staff had named her Coal, and I was thinking it was because of her dark, dark brown-black fur. It wasn’t until she was a permanent fixture in our home that I made the Christmas and coal connection.
She was 6 months old when I adopted her, and had been found feral prior to her brief stay at the shelter. When I was picking her up, they actually knocked $10 off the adoption fee because she threw a royal hissy fit over having her last shot. At the time I just thought it was odd that they would do this as it didn’t seem weird to me that an animal that was kept in a cage all day, would be pissy towards her captors. Warning bells should have rang in my head when they were all completely shocked that she let me hold her. She was not completely docile in my arms, but I chalked that up to being with an unfamiliar person.
I get her home and she immediately walks around the house, tail held high, sniffing out everything. This I felt was a good sign as most cats new to an area will slink and cower a bit until they get the lay of the land. She was already the mistress of her domain from the moment she set paw inside. This was a huge issue with our existing cat, an elderly, dainty, but fearsome abyssinnian/tabby named Abby. Abby took one sniff, hissed, swiped and stalked off. This relationship NEVER warmed either. They remained aloof but mortal enemies until Abby’s death a couple years later.
At 6 months, Colette seemed to be a typical American Longhair. Her size seemed normal to me. However, by 9 months, when she was already larger than Abby, I knew something was up. When she reached a year old it was finally glaringly obvious that we had a Maine Coon mix on our hands. So much of her build, behaviors, etc. fit with being a Maine Coon…a large breed cat that sometimes feels more dog than cat.
It became apparent early on that Colette was not going to be the lovey dovey pussycat my children would have loved. Nope. This is unfortunate as Abby was never the ueber friendly cat either. Abby would allow the boys to pet her though and would even sleep with them on occasion. She was never hostile towards anyone but dogs, other cats and all the animals outdoors. Seriously. She ruled the yard with an iron claw. Months after her death I caught a neighborhood cat sneaking into the yard to crap by the fenceline, only to dart back out again like his ass was on fire. You can call me crazy, but I like to think that the other neighborhood cats dared him to shit in HER yard. Maybe a bit of new guy to the ‘hood hazing. But, getting back to it, Colette refused to let anyone but me pet her, and she stuck to me like furry glue, even going so far as to sleep under my monitor and swipe at my hands when I would type sometimes.
As she eventually grew far, far too large to sleep in her little under monitor niche, she started sleeping on the side of my desk, but that too became more problematic the bulkier she grew. These days she is banned from the desk entirely as she would take up at least half of it even while curled up.
As she was attaining critical mass, we were also learning to become used to her many, many flaws and foibles. She hates strangers. HATES them. Except she doesn’t just go hide from them like a normal cat, oh no. All usurpers to her kingdom are met with growls, hisses and then slinking face rubs all over their legs. I know, contradictory as all hell and confusing for any person who meets her. “Does your cat like me or hate me?” It’s pure hate, believe me…I think the face rubbing is a way to lull you into a false sense of security. DO NOT try to pet her. While I doubt she would bite anyone hard enough to break the skin…there would be biting. Even I, who am allowed to ruffle her fur and more, get nipped on a daily basis.
She seems to not like when strangers to the house are near me either, and will guard me with a barely checked, quivering rage. A few times I have given her some all natural calming herb cat treats but even those only took the edge of her anxiety away. And this is really what it is, anxiety over the newcomers. She really is not hateful so much as she is deeeeeply distrustful of all humans. If you happen to smell like dog, you might as well sign your death warrant. She is NEVER becoming your friend. EVER. Those who have the audacity to come before her reeking of canine get put in her permanent book of loathing…in indelible ink.
At this point in my posting, I should really just start to list the many things she does that are out of the norm for any other cats that have owned me, otherwise this will become a book:
- Refuses most cooked or raw meats unless it’s canned fish or bologna. She has a wicked love of bologna.
- Growls whenever anyone knocks on the door or rings the doorbell.
- Gets super jealous when I am at my computer desk and looking at any cute animal photos. I make cooing noises which spurn her to mew at me with her meeplike peep of a meow and stretch herself up, paws on my desk, to get my attention.
- Loves all baked goods. ALL OF THEM. Sure she will refuse a turkey leg, but will take my hand off for a cinnamon roll.
- Cheese. The beast is a whore for cheese. If it happens to be a cheese sandwich – cheese + bread – watch out. That is like crack to her.
- Is really kind of stupid. I can fake her out with the pretend toss like you can a lot of dogs.
- Is always somewhere within my general vicinity and will even bust in on me on the toilet. There are entire rooms of the house that she never even enters…until I do.
- Whenever I leave the house, she hides somewhere and won’t come out until I get home and am home for a while. This is something that she only started in the last year or so.
- Is terrified to go outdoors, though she will make brief trips if I am with her the whole time and even then only on the porch.
- Is scared to death of birds.
Honestly, she really is not so much a fuckface as she is a true character and takes some patience and understanding to get used to. I cut her a lot of slack because the fact that she didn’t really live around humans until she was 6 months old means she was never properly socialized. Despite all of this, I am ridiculously smitten.
Coffee & Amphetamines 