sarah the cat update

So, we still have Sarah. I can't believe she's around 11 years old now!

Her rotten mouth is doing much better since we got most of her teeth out, in two sessions, a couple of years apart. The first session the vet had estimated it could cost somewhere around $800 to remove the offending teeth - but ended up costing less than half of that because they were so bad they were coming out with a tug and didn't need to be cut out. She now eats crunchy food exclusively, which you wouldn't think she could do with no teeth, but the vet said cats mostly just swallow their food anyway, and she seems happy enough so there you go.

I did get my deposit back when I moved out of the apartment she terrorized with deep gouges in the door frames and walls during her mental outbursts. I won't say I married Kyle for his ability to subtly plaster over such things, but it certainly came in handy. She has since ceased, more or less, clawing contraband, which is a good thing because we own this place and feel less understanding!

Her low point came a few months before we moved. After marrying Kyle, who really made a concerted effort to be her friend, buying her treats and brushing her fur and encouraging her to jump up on his lap, she took to hiding in the back of the water heater closet, under the stairs. Just across from that door, about three kitty steps away, were her food and water dishes. Well, Kyle noticed that she had started this routine of going into the closet and coming right out again before eating. Consistently. Obsessively. And he wondered what would happen if he closed the door. So he did. Even though she was hungry, that cat would not eat, or even sniff her food. She started pacing and meowing in front of the door, and then trying to scratch her way under it. It was if she was turning into Rain Man and it was five minutes to Wapner! When that didn't work, she started looking for another way in. She went to the stairs and started sniffing around, understanding that there was a connection to her lair - but to no avail. More pacing. More meowing. Increased desperation. After close to 10 minutes, we relented and opened the closet door. She walked in, turned around, walked out and ate her food. But after that she became obsessive about the place and would hardly ever leave it - in case ... in case ... you know ...

She's definitely more adjusted in our current abode. Partly, I think, it's because there's no water heater closet or little hidden den for her to hold up in. Also, with a few floor to ceiling windows, and no restrictions on looking out them, she's got something to look at. We still don't let her go outside, however, because 1) she's not used to it and also has no teeth and 2) outdoors cats are more likely to cause allergies and Kyle is walking a fine line as it is.

But while she definitely prefers this place to the old one, I wouldn't say she's happier. If anything, she's more traumatized than ever. This is thanks to one energy packed boy who, if he had a dog, would have a totally into it playmate - but he puts Sarah completely on edge. He delights in screaming like a banshee and taking chase when she runs - which she inevitably does. If I don't physically stop him, he'd chase her up and down the stairs all afternoon. She does not find any morsel of joy in this. Luckily for Oliver, she's also a pacifist and would never THINK of scratching - even if cornered. While I don't wish ill on my own flesh and blood, I occasionally think if she'd just lay one half-hearted swipe on him he'd learn a lesson and leave her alone. But no.




Because of that, I'd really like to find her a new home. Unfortunately, most people want kittens and not 11-year-old cats with no teeth and a stump for a tail. So, she continues to abide. With us. For now. Poor slob.