May 18, 2007
Cat Scratch Fever
Written by Shirley Karr in Jaunty Post
Once upon a time ago (July 1, 2006) we adopted an eight week old Himalayan kitten and named him Dakarai. He was cute, cuddly and fluffy and the most interactive cat we have ever known. He followed us from room to room, always wanting to be near us, eager to be petted and played with. So interactive, in fact, when we realized we were timing our errands so that we left only when he was asleep, we decided to get him a playmate — someone who never had to abandon him to go to work or to the grocery store.
Derby, a red tabby, was 10 weeks old when we adopted him from the shelter. He was about the same size as Dakarai and very keen on playing though he didn’t have much interest in us. Humans seemed important to him only for keeping his food and water dishes full and the litter box empty. The kittens quickly bonded and their play antics were often much more fun to watch than anything on TV.
Over the next many months, I patiently worked at socializing Derby — helping him realize the joy of being petted and how to play with humans without drawing blood. He still hasn’t accepted his role as lap cat, but he began to seek out affection rather than merely tolerating it. Dakarai continued to be cute and fluffy, always willing to cuddle.
And then … they reached puberty.
This was a relatively minor thing for Derby, since he had been neutered as a young kitten. He apparently accepted me as part of his pack, which means he wants me to accompany him when he eats. During the winter I spent hours in the bathroom watching him eat kibble. I cleaned out the medicine cabinet and became proficient at the crossword puzzle. I didn’t want all of our interaction to be about food so I introduced toys in the bathtub — he loves to play pinball in the tub. He spends more of his time near me, sometimes even within reach so I can pet him, though we’re still working on the lap cat thing.
Dakarai, on the other hand… since he’s a registered purebred, we entertained the idea of getting a female Himalayan and producing a litter of cute cuddly fluffy kittens with the same sweet disposition as Dakarai. In January, he apparently reached Sexual Maturity. Foreboding music should have played in the background.
He began to whine and cry, utterly heartrending sounds, for no apparent reason. If you startled him in mid cry, he’d give you a look that said “whadda you lookin’ at?” He’d climb to the back of the sofa and shred the tapestry on the wall, or scratch the glass of the framed art print beside it. Even though there were no female cats in the neighborhood, we recognized the signs, and made an appointment with the vet posthaste for minor surgery. However, they were shortstaffed and it took 2 1/2 weeks before they could fit him in.
Meanwhile, his restless behavior continued and became ingrained. He’d come into my office and cry, though he didn’t want to be petted and was annoyed if I tried to pick him up. It seems he simply didn’t want me to be in my office, because he started sharpening his claws on the antique secretary, and the only way to get him to stop and stay stopped is to chase him out of the room. If I simply chase him into the hall, he’ll start scratching on the wall. Not the kind of scratching where he’s trying to dig furrows into the drywall — his claws are still sheathed. It’s the kind of rapid pawing a dog would use to dig under the fence. But it’s still quite noisy since the tips of his claws strike the wall. It’s not for lack of scratching posts — they have two, in different locations, with different textures, which both cats use on a regular basis.
And then he began doing it in the middle of the night.
At first I thought he was trying to wake us up because we’d neglected to fill the kibble dish or had let the water dish go dry during the night — punishable crimes, indeed. Or perhaps the cats were just so eager to get onto the living room window sill so they can watch the world outside. I began to leave the blinds up far enough for them to take their perch. Ineffective.
It seems like it’s a game to him. We have squirt guns and water bottles in almost every room in the house to try to discourage his misbehavior. This technique has always worked in the past with other cats who’ve shared our home — a few squirts, and the inappropriate behavior stopped. But not so with Dakarai. One evening I squirted him in my office, and he looked straight at me as if to say “oh, thank you,” and then eagerly began grooming the water from his coat, still calmly sitting beside the poster he’d been scratching.
In the predawn, he will jump up on top of the headboard to scratch the wall above our heads, or reach over to rattle the lampshade (even knocking the lamp to the floor more than once), or sit on the clock radio and turn the radio on — at 4:19 a.m. He stays just out of reach, and will stop making noise if I grab the squirt bottle. As soon as I put it back on the headboard or start to drift off, he starts up again. He’s even started scratching on the antique dresser I’ve had since I was six. I no longer wait until my eyes adjust, I just aim in the general direction of the noise and pull the trigger, and keep squirting until I hear him flee the scene of the crime. So he moved over to scratch on my husband’s dresser, which is blocked from my view unless I get up, and is far enough away that only a few drops of water reach him.
We haven’t had an uninterrupted night of sleep in months. I’ve tried ignoring him, I’ve tried getting up and giving him special attention, and playing with him before bed time to the point he slinks exhausted to his box, hoping he’ll stay zonked out through the night. We tried locking them out of the bedroom, but both of them scratched at the closed door and cried. I’ve been going to bed earlier each night — aside from being tired, maybe I’ll just give in and start my day when he starts waking us up. This morning he started in at 2:15.
I’m at my wit’s end. The bags under my eyes are deep enough for handles because he’ll often carry on like this when I try to nap. It’s tough to get any writing done, because he’ll get into one of these restless, noisy moods at various times in the day or evening. Now that the weather is warmer, my husband is threatening to lock him in the cat carrier in the garage overnight, out of earshot. But we’d have to confine both cats or the one left inside the house will scratch at the door and cry for his playmate. And it’s a small carrier – okay for toting them both to the vet for a checkup, but not roomy enough for an extended stay.
I found a pet therapist online, but she only does house calls in the Nashville area. I’m off to the library to see if there are any books with suggestions. And if any of you have any ideas or suggestions, I’d love to hear them!
) and to finally get some real answers as to what’s going on. And I mean the sort of answers that don’t make my head feel like it is going to explode. (Anyone who wasn’t completely confused by the whole Desmond, flashback, time-travel thingie, feel free to e-mail me and try to explain it. But I warn you now, many have tried, all have failed…)
