Daily Interaction with My New Cat, Ernest

For those of you yet unaware, I have a new cat. He’s a six year old Persian (aka the flat faced breed) whom I affectionately call a red-head, but which breeders claim is a “flame point.” Basically, he’s adorable. He also is a complete and utter wimp. I suppose my view of catly behavior is somewhat skewed as for the past 15 years or so my primary cat interaction has been with feral barn cats who would shred your face as soon as look at you. But really, by any standards, Ernest is a wimp…a wuss…a rabbit. If there is a loud noise, Ernest is hiding. If there is a quick flash of movement, Ernest is hiding. If the sun is out, Ernest is hiding. I swear this cat is petrified of everything! I’m sure most of this fear is due to the fact that he was recently sold and has changed homes three times in the past month. First, he was sold from the breeders’ house where he lived his entire life with 5 other male cats and went on a car ride with my sister to her room in Los Angeles. After a week, my parents drove down to Southern CA to retrieve him where he spent the next week locked in a small room while loud noises and stomping footsteps terrorized his every waking moment, creating hourly panic attacks about what he could hear, but could not see. Finally, he took a trip on an airplane to my house, where he is stranded with a crazy, asthmatic, sneezing monstrosity who insists on petting him every night and shoving treats he doesn’t want under his nose. (That monstrosity is me, by the way.) So, his life has been in extreme turmoil. Thinking it over now, I guess it’s really not surprising that he often stuffs himself into random corners or behind my fridge whenever I am in the room. But, I will say, he is getting better and hiding a little less when I am awake/around. Here is an example of our daily interaction.

8:00 am – I open my door to find Ernest lying down somewhere in the short hallway outside my bedroom door. He’s not allowed in my room (I need at least one cat free zone in deference to my poor nose and lungs), but he really likes sleeping/hanging out in that hallway at night. I have a number of theories about this behavior: (1) he is afraid of the dark and therefore doesn’t like to be alone downstairs at night and the last light on in the house at night is my bedside lamp in my room, which he can see under the door; (2) he likes the smallness of the hallway outside my room because it makes him feel safe; (3) he is waiting for the proper moment to attack and kill me and has decided he will have the most success first thing in the morning when I am least awake and aware, therefore, he lies in wait outside my room.

8:03 am – after three minutes of staring at each other during which time Ernest’s breathing gets increasingly raspy and panicky due to my presence, I walk past him on my way downstairs. His eyes following my every step.

11:45 am – I come back home following class and the gym and glance around the house for Ernest. He’s nowhere in sight. So begins my hunt for my new kitty. Without calling out or announcing my presence in any way, I tiptoe around the lower level of my house, looking in every corner and crack where he could squeeze his small body. Nothing. Next, I head upstairs and, sure enough, there he is…still lying outside of my room in that hallway. Since I left, he’s only moved from lying in front of my guest bathroom door to my guest bedroom door. With a sigh, I look at him. He looks at me. The sound of his panicked breathing steadily increases. I walk past him into my room after saying hello.

4:05 pm – I walk past Ernest in my hallway again as I leave once again for school. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence beyond watching me with his enormous eyes.

9:47 pm – I arrive home and once again make the rounds looking for Ernest, but this time I start with the hallway upstairs and my search is cut short because that is where he is hiding. I walk back downstairs and grab his brush and return to spend some time with my kitty. As he watches me, rasping in breaths, I sit down on the top stair, speak in a low, crooning voice and begin to brush him with one hand while scratching his head with the other. Slowly, Ernest relaxes under my attention. His breathing calms and he closes his eyes as we enjoy a quiet moment together. I stay with him for at least twenty minutes. For the rest of the night his breathing remains regular whenever I pass him on my way up and down the stairs.

11:35 pm – While lying in bed in my room I can hear Ernest coming up the stairs after a visit down to his litterbox, water and food. (His breathing really is quite noticeable.) I hear him settle down in the hallway and after about 10 minutes I hear a gentle snoring noise. Yup. My new kitty snores. Like a little chain saw. After four days or so, Ernest has adapted to my routine and knows I won’t be coming out again that night and so feels comfortable enough to go to sleep. I fall asleep with the knowledge that the suspicion will begin again tomorrow, but he’ll be a little more comfortable and a little more at ease. Maybe tomorrow he’ll even come downstairs while I’m down there. Who knows?