This is Webster. He is about 3 years old. And in his little life has been very stressful. He came to live with me when he was just a tiny little kitten.
Shortly after he turned a year old, we began renovations on my parents’ house. Work men were in and out, banging all around. Poor little Webbie began to feel stressed. The once very social cat would now hide all of the time. And this is when he started peeing on the floor.
Just around the time the renovations started, I started packing my belongings little by little to move to Georgia which only freaked Webster out more.
And then, two days before our wedding…Webster got out. And he didn’t come back. I left for my honeymoon without knowing where he was or if he was okay. I tried to push it all to the back of my mind because who wants their wedding and honeymoon ruined by a missing cat. My new husband would grumble as I ran to the hotel computers every so often the first few days to email my parents to find out if anyone had found Webster. And then finally, on the third day of our Honeymoon, I logged on to facebook and this picture greeted me:
Webster was HOME! But not before being attacked by something that left a tuft of fur outside my parents’ garage.
Let’s just put it this way. When we moved to Athens, it was only a few days before I found a vet. I was strung out and sleep deprived and begged for something anything that would make the cat sleep at night. He’d sit on our dresser and cry and cry. And pee on my floor. They prescribed Prozac. Yes, my cat was on PROZAC!
Soon, we introduced Mr. Husband’s childhood cat, George, into our little home.
And shortly after that, Bailey came to live with us.
Webster was strung out and neurotic. And then we moved to Charlotte, NC.
And he started peeing on my kitchen floor. And I was losing my mind. I’d had him back and forth to the vet while we lived in Athens for what they believed were “urinary tract infections.” I’d spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars for them to basically tell me that my cat was just a douche bag. It was behavioral, they finally decided.
I’d tried: calming collars, pheromone plug ins, pheromone sprays, natures miracle, pine litter, cedar litter, boxes with NO litter, locking him in safe rooms. I tried anything anyone would suggest to me with no avail. And soon, I had to make a choice.
Last Monday, I came home to find the same typical 4 places peed in in my kitchen. After working a ten hour day, and having only cleaned those spots that morning, I was at my wits end. I called my mother in tears. I’d made up my mind. We were going to have to get rid of him. Mom told me to call the vet I’d adopted him from because their policy is that they will always take a cat back.
I made the call. He would travel with us for the holiday, and I’d give him back.
I couldn’t talk about it for the days leading up without crying. I sported the face of a 16 year old girl who’d broken up with her boyfriend the night before: red, puffy eyes that were constantly tear filled. I love this little sucker, but you have to draw the line somewhere.
The day before we were set to leave for Raleigh, my mom and I were on the phone. She was doing her best to be supportive, but she also loves the little guy. And she really didn’t think that I’d be able to let him go
which I’m not sure I could have.
What about a cage, she suggested:
[something you need to know about Webster is that he is very very attached to me. if I gave him up, he’d spend his whole life looking for me. even when I’d leave for just a few days when I lived at my parents’ house, he’d cry and cry until I came back.]
We figured it’d be worth a shot. Mom ordered the cage, and it was delivered the day we returned from Christmas. Mom and I set it up in my little office.
And you know what? HE LOVES IT!
He basks in the sunlight and naps on his little shelves! He also loves his new little bed
He’s very relaxed and purrs almost constantly now. I go in to visit every so often and let him out to play.
And you want to know the best part? HE’S USING THE LITTER BOX IN THERE!!