Early September. I was
a nervous wreck all day because after months of working towards it, the cat
whose life I wanted to change was going to change mine.
I had been in contact
with French organization Elias & Friends for about half a year now, and
preparing Troy’s arrival sporadically, nervous about what ifs but mostly about
messing up. I had never had to care for a cat before, and no one in my life had
one.
I was originally
looking to adopt a dog. We had lost ours after 14 years of life together, and
the silence was palpable in our home. She was the one who brought our family
together in a way, like a magic glue. My mom was working hard, I was busy with
work and so was my brother. Then there was my dad, who was close to retiring,
and the thought of him spending his free time waiting for us was convincing
enough to start looking for a dog so he would not be on his own after retiring.
I eventually opted for a cat to adopt, as my parents are both aging. A dog, I
thought, would require a lot of work and attention that my parents would not be
able to provide as well after a few years.
The goal was always to
adopt rather than buy: an unfamiliar concept to all of us, but the idea stuck
when I thought about it years ago.
Imagine my surprise,
when I fell upon Troy’s page on social media pages. I had done research for a
certain amount of time and already had a few names on my list of possible furry
friends that would fit our lifestyle, and a list of traits in an animal
that would be ideal for my parents.
It did not matter in
the end, as both of those lists flew out the window as soon as I saw Troy and
learned about his story, about the way he still yearns for interactions and
affection after everything he endured.
As our first cat, it
was a lot of trial and error, but that’s the funny thing about three legged cats:
I assumed it would matter but it doesn’t. I had more issues with the fact that
he was a cat and that I had no experience than the fact he was missing a leg. Stairs?
The least of my concerns.
Was it easy? No. Adopting
an adult cat saved from a life on the streets will always be more challenging
than adopting a kitten. He had baggage, a missing leg, and while he was looking
for our company, he had a few issues. All kinds of noises could make him
jumpscare. He refused to go downstairs for a month unless he had no choice,
possibly because of all the TV and kitchen noises. He would flee when someone
would raise their hand and would stress eat a lot. The biggest issue was
behavioral, though: whenever he got upset, he would pee on things every few
days or so, for months. On the bed, on the couch, on clothes. It was a work of patience,
but I was ready for that. Taking care of a living being that had possibly lived
traumatic experiences will always take a lot of work and patience. It might take
a while, but the results are often extremely rewarding.
Does he walk slowly? Yes.
However, he still runs fast, jumps high. He enjoys playing by himself a lot now
when he refused to do so for months, and he won’t shut up because he loves
having an opinion on everything and to talk back. He enjoys going out and
sniffing new smells. He enjoys provoking the neighbor’s dogs, and hunting birds
even though he fails miserably every single time. And food. Always food.
He is a pretty normal
cat who just happens to be missing a leg.
It has been a little
more than a year now but the changes are noticeable. He is more confident, more
playful, trusts us more.
Starting very
recently, his new thing is to sleep on me for his naps almost daily, and this
has been the most rewarding thing yet.
It might not be
perfect and we still have things to work on, but this loud, greedy, big cat?
He is good enough.
Sophie
France
