jonza
01-28-2003, 02:09 PM
Fisters Journey - The House of Cages
Fisters life hasn’t always been “on the sunny side of the street”, so here’s a little story about the darker side of his life:
It has been an extremely fascinating (and sometimes painful) experience to watch Fisters long, slow evolution from feral to “domesticated” cat. It’s taken over 5 years now, but we’re definately getting there at last, though only at his own languid feline pace.
Born wild in our back yard, he was impossible to catch of course, and we could rarely get close enough to touch him at all. I managed to catch and lift him a couple of times when he was a kitten, but he instantly became a hissing, writhing mass of teeth and claws, and 5 seconds was about the maximum. When he was about a year old, we decided that he and his mum (Mrs Spot) should be doctored, vaccinated and earmarked, and arranged with the official cat catcher to trap them and take them to the clinic. I remember seeing Fister when the door dropped on the trap, he went absolutely and completely beserk. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s true what they say, cats can run up walls and across ceilings, at least when in a relatively small space!
A week or so later they were both back, and it was interesting to note that Fister was less shy and nervous of us now. We could tempt him with food and he would actually let us stroke him a bit while he ate. This was progress indeed, but he soon reverted to type, and distanced himself again.
It was about this time that I decided that we just had to get him to live with us. Then followed the debacle of my cat catching attempt and the following long, patient process of getting him into our flat (see "Heaven on the First Floor" (http://64.246.0.213/talk/showthread.php?s=&threadid=14753&highlight=fisters+journey)).
The first year or so, he was only a part time lodger, staying with us for a few days and then spending a few days down with mum in the yard.
We like to travel a lot (when we can afford it!), but this was not a problem, since Fister was still quite happy spending a bit of time with his beloved mum (see "Fister and his loving mum" (http://64.246.0.213/talk/showthread.php?s=&threadid=14032&highlight=loving+mum)). But after a few succesful holidays, Fister apparently started to miss us, and would constantly call after us from under our kitchen windows. We had some stroppy neighbours who got very uptight at this, and they insisted that all domestic animals should be banned from the yard. They insisted that he should either be with us constantly or not at all, so there was no alternative. Was Fister feral or domestic? That was the big question, and we therefor had to make a decision, and made arrangements for Fister to go to a cat pension while we were away. BUT - there was one member of the household who was not at all happy about this. Fister is, and presumably always will be, only semi-domesticated, and he HATES going anywhere away from us, and even less to be interned in a cage in a strange, oppressive place. This is always a problem, but unfortunately we haven’t been able to find a better solution. I always feel bad about it, and until recently it usually meant bloodshed getting him into the carrier. He is slightly more amenable now, but it is always heart wrenching to say goodbye to him. I have to constantly tell myself that thinking and worrying about him will only ruin my trip, and to no avail. That is just part of the price he has to pay in return for his new home up here with us in the lap of luxury.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid49/pd5460c4dbb1e550331a09fd6dc106575/fcb7527e.jpg
Nice box, but there’s no way you’ll get me in it if I don’t want to!
The first trip was drama of the highest order. He was a quiet, loving pet, but no way was he going to be lifted or manhandled. Just NO WAY. So we had to sedate him heavily and accept the inevitable bloodshed when getting him into the “Portable Prison” Catching him and putting him in the box usually entailed me ending up as a nervous, bloody wreck the day before we left. We checked around to find the nicest place, a lovely old farm, which was of course way out of town. It was quite embarrassing when we first delivered him, we’d forgotten to clean all the blood off the lid of his box, producing a quizzical look from the receptionist!
Considering that this was the very first time we did this, Fister was incredibly unlucky. That night, the biggest storm to hit Denmark in 100 years arrived. He must have been scared stiff, alone in a strange isolated place for the very first time, battered by the wind and rain. When we got back, he was a bit of a wreck, fled under the bed, and didn’t appear again for hours. It took him a couple of days to get over it. It was very sad, and we felt awful about it, but there was no other way if he was to contine to enjoy his luxury existence up in our flat, and there was no doubt that he definately did.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid49/pf5706d64baaa16fe91af3f58cd0c5724/fcb7527c.jpg
At least there's a bit more room in here!
Later on, getting help from a friend to transport us (and a larger box!), there was an even bigger drama. He was in a fairly small cage when we fetched him, and they hadn’t sedated him as we had asked. I foolishly tried to get him out of the cage anyway, and of course he escaped. After rushing into a corner under some cages, our friend stepped in and said “No problem, it’s only a cat, I’ll get him” We both shouted NO! But the foolish man tried it with the obvious result. Fister ripped his arm to shreds, turned round and violently attacked me, biting deeply into my leg right to the bone and just hanging on. This luckily enabled us to bundle him into the box. Our foolish friend was then transported to the emergency room post haste. The second grown man that Fister had taught a lesson to and sent to hospital!
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid49/pd673c71802474ddb16f6fb5bb8acb9d7/fcb7527b.jpg
We TOLD you to be careful!
We have spent a lot of time searching for a suitable place for him, and once tried a kennel slightly closer to where we live, and felt comfortable with it since it was run by a Vet. What an incompetent fool he turned out to be! We had carefully explained about Fisters rather special habits, and he seemed nice and understanding. The cats had a cage each, and a free area where they could mix if they wish. When we got back, I phoned him to arrange to fetch Fister, and explained that he would have to sedate him to get him in his box. “No problem” says the guy, he’s as mild as you can imagine, I can get him in the carrier with no problems. I could hardly believe my ears, was Fister going all soft on us? So we arrive at the vets, and he brings out the carrier and proudly shows us the contents. A small longhaired orange cat looking nothing like Fister at all! In all the time Fister had been there, I don’t think he’d seen a single hair of him. So then he had to be found and netted, and THEN he sedated Fister! When we arrived home, we found that Fister was scratched in the face and had a terrific cold. We were hopping mad, and the vet didn’t get his full fees.
So now we have to pay top price, be very carefull to check the place out properly, and hope that Fister will accept it reasonably. He has definately been better lately, he doesn’t complain much when we transport him, and on homecoming his trip under the bed will be very short or non existent before he realises that he is home and everything is back to normal again. There is one place that we haven’t tried yet, it’s unfortunately a long way away and very expensive, but it certainly does look like the lap of luxury. They have underfloor heating and play classical music for the pets! Here’s a page from their website to give an idea: http://www.kameludl.dk/flere_kattebilleder.htm
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid49/p6b049479ea236e62e2fb328994ccbaa6/fcb75279.jpg
That wasn’t much fun!
Since he has been through so many traumatic operations and had so many problems with his plumbing, we have begun to use the kennel at the Animal Hospital. They are very nice, and it is reassuring to know that he is in safe hands, looked after by people who understand him. After his last experience with the cone, he has lost the habit of running and hiding under the bed when he gets back, he just acts very annoyed with us for a couple of minutes, and then comes up to snuggle in with us.
But oh how I hate the drama that awaits every time we just want to go away for a while and enjoy the sun! One day he will hopefully settle down enough so we can have somebody in and “cat sit” for us, but at the moment we don’t dare, the risk of him escaping is too great, and he would just hate being alone here without us anyway.
John
Fisters life hasn’t always been “on the sunny side of the street”, so here’s a little story about the darker side of his life:
It has been an extremely fascinating (and sometimes painful) experience to watch Fisters long, slow evolution from feral to “domesticated” cat. It’s taken over 5 years now, but we’re definately getting there at last, though only at his own languid feline pace.
Born wild in our back yard, he was impossible to catch of course, and we could rarely get close enough to touch him at all. I managed to catch and lift him a couple of times when he was a kitten, but he instantly became a hissing, writhing mass of teeth and claws, and 5 seconds was about the maximum. When he was about a year old, we decided that he and his mum (Mrs Spot) should be doctored, vaccinated and earmarked, and arranged with the official cat catcher to trap them and take them to the clinic. I remember seeing Fister when the door dropped on the trap, he went absolutely and completely beserk. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s true what they say, cats can run up walls and across ceilings, at least when in a relatively small space!
A week or so later they were both back, and it was interesting to note that Fister was less shy and nervous of us now. We could tempt him with food and he would actually let us stroke him a bit while he ate. This was progress indeed, but he soon reverted to type, and distanced himself again.
It was about this time that I decided that we just had to get him to live with us. Then followed the debacle of my cat catching attempt and the following long, patient process of getting him into our flat (see "Heaven on the First Floor" (http://64.246.0.213/talk/showthread.php?s=&threadid=14753&highlight=fisters+journey)).
The first year or so, he was only a part time lodger, staying with us for a few days and then spending a few days down with mum in the yard.
We like to travel a lot (when we can afford it!), but this was not a problem, since Fister was still quite happy spending a bit of time with his beloved mum (see "Fister and his loving mum" (http://64.246.0.213/talk/showthread.php?s=&threadid=14032&highlight=loving+mum)). But after a few succesful holidays, Fister apparently started to miss us, and would constantly call after us from under our kitchen windows. We had some stroppy neighbours who got very uptight at this, and they insisted that all domestic animals should be banned from the yard. They insisted that he should either be with us constantly or not at all, so there was no alternative. Was Fister feral or domestic? That was the big question, and we therefor had to make a decision, and made arrangements for Fister to go to a cat pension while we were away. BUT - there was one member of the household who was not at all happy about this. Fister is, and presumably always will be, only semi-domesticated, and he HATES going anywhere away from us, and even less to be interned in a cage in a strange, oppressive place. This is always a problem, but unfortunately we haven’t been able to find a better solution. I always feel bad about it, and until recently it usually meant bloodshed getting him into the carrier. He is slightly more amenable now, but it is always heart wrenching to say goodbye to him. I have to constantly tell myself that thinking and worrying about him will only ruin my trip, and to no avail. That is just part of the price he has to pay in return for his new home up here with us in the lap of luxury.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid49/pd5460c4dbb1e550331a09fd6dc106575/fcb7527e.jpg
Nice box, but there’s no way you’ll get me in it if I don’t want to!
The first trip was drama of the highest order. He was a quiet, loving pet, but no way was he going to be lifted or manhandled. Just NO WAY. So we had to sedate him heavily and accept the inevitable bloodshed when getting him into the “Portable Prison” Catching him and putting him in the box usually entailed me ending up as a nervous, bloody wreck the day before we left. We checked around to find the nicest place, a lovely old farm, which was of course way out of town. It was quite embarrassing when we first delivered him, we’d forgotten to clean all the blood off the lid of his box, producing a quizzical look from the receptionist!
Considering that this was the very first time we did this, Fister was incredibly unlucky. That night, the biggest storm to hit Denmark in 100 years arrived. He must have been scared stiff, alone in a strange isolated place for the very first time, battered by the wind and rain. When we got back, he was a bit of a wreck, fled under the bed, and didn’t appear again for hours. It took him a couple of days to get over it. It was very sad, and we felt awful about it, but there was no other way if he was to contine to enjoy his luxury existence up in our flat, and there was no doubt that he definately did.
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid49/pf5706d64baaa16fe91af3f58cd0c5724/fcb7527c.jpg
At least there's a bit more room in here!
Later on, getting help from a friend to transport us (and a larger box!), there was an even bigger drama. He was in a fairly small cage when we fetched him, and they hadn’t sedated him as we had asked. I foolishly tried to get him out of the cage anyway, and of course he escaped. After rushing into a corner under some cages, our friend stepped in and said “No problem, it’s only a cat, I’ll get him” We both shouted NO! But the foolish man tried it with the obvious result. Fister ripped his arm to shreds, turned round and violently attacked me, biting deeply into my leg right to the bone and just hanging on. This luckily enabled us to bundle him into the box. Our foolish friend was then transported to the emergency room post haste. The second grown man that Fister had taught a lesson to and sent to hospital!
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid49/pd673c71802474ddb16f6fb5bb8acb9d7/fcb7527b.jpg
We TOLD you to be careful!
We have spent a lot of time searching for a suitable place for him, and once tried a kennel slightly closer to where we live, and felt comfortable with it since it was run by a Vet. What an incompetent fool he turned out to be! We had carefully explained about Fisters rather special habits, and he seemed nice and understanding. The cats had a cage each, and a free area where they could mix if they wish. When we got back, I phoned him to arrange to fetch Fister, and explained that he would have to sedate him to get him in his box. “No problem” says the guy, he’s as mild as you can imagine, I can get him in the carrier with no problems. I could hardly believe my ears, was Fister going all soft on us? So we arrive at the vets, and he brings out the carrier and proudly shows us the contents. A small longhaired orange cat looking nothing like Fister at all! In all the time Fister had been there, I don’t think he’d seen a single hair of him. So then he had to be found and netted, and THEN he sedated Fister! When we arrived home, we found that Fister was scratched in the face and had a terrific cold. We were hopping mad, and the vet didn’t get his full fees.
So now we have to pay top price, be very carefull to check the place out properly, and hope that Fister will accept it reasonably. He has definately been better lately, he doesn’t complain much when we transport him, and on homecoming his trip under the bed will be very short or non existent before he realises that he is home and everything is back to normal again. There is one place that we haven’t tried yet, it’s unfortunately a long way away and very expensive, but it certainly does look like the lap of luxury. They have underfloor heating and play classical music for the pets! Here’s a page from their website to give an idea: http://www.kameludl.dk/flere_kattebilleder.htm
http://www.imagestation.com/picture/sraid49/p6b049479ea236e62e2fb328994ccbaa6/fcb75279.jpg
That wasn’t much fun!
Since he has been through so many traumatic operations and had so many problems with his plumbing, we have begun to use the kennel at the Animal Hospital. They are very nice, and it is reassuring to know that he is in safe hands, looked after by people who understand him. After his last experience with the cone, he has lost the habit of running and hiding under the bed when he gets back, he just acts very annoyed with us for a couple of minutes, and then comes up to snuggle in with us.
But oh how I hate the drama that awaits every time we just want to go away for a while and enjoy the sun! One day he will hopefully settle down enough so we can have somebody in and “cat sit” for us, but at the moment we don’t dare, the risk of him escaping is too great, and he would just hate being alone here without us anyway.
John