Matcha

 We lost our oldest cat Nicholas in December. Mack and Daisy were doing okay, but we could tell Mack was really missing his big brother Nick. So during spring break, in March, we started looking for a little brother for Mack. Initially we were looking for a kitten, but because of the pandemic there were not any kittens for adoption at any of the pet rescue organizations. 

 We started looking at the pet rescue where we have adopted 6 of our 9 cats over the years. One cat, about two years old, with a quiet personality, was available. We set up an appointment, and while we were there meeting the cat, who was miserable and terrified, his foster parent decided she wanted to keep him. The person overseeing the meet-and-greet told us her manager had instructed her that we would not be allowed to have a trial period with the cat. So we left. It was not the right cat or the right time. My sister-in-law was there with us, for which I am grateful. She soothed the cat while we deliberated. I left feeling that I had been judged to be inadequate, which is not really a reasonable conclusion, but that's how I felt. The place where I had always been known to be a good cat parent didn't know me any more. I found out later they had experienced an upheaval and a complete turnover of personnel. 

Next we tried another pet rescue organization, but they had a strict policy of no cats allowed to go outdoors. They directed us to Operation Catnip, the organization that sterilizes feral cats, because they sometimes received "friendlies," cats who were not feral. We called and set up a meeting at the catio. 

Entering the catio was like going to the Butterfly Rainforest. Enter the first door and close it, then the second door would open. No escaped cats that way. When we entered the second door, there was the woman from Operation Catnip standing next to a table, and on the table was a small orange tabby cat with a short bushy tale. Friendly, far from feral, he greeted us enthusiastically. His name was Matcha. "We were on a coffee theme with names," she told us. We made arrangements, got the carrier, and brought Matcha home. 

We set Matcha up in a safe room on the sun porch at first. He and the other cats could see each other through the French doors. Then we rehabilitated the screened cat gates we had made and set up Matcha's safe room in my office. We took his meals up to his safe room, and I spent time with him in my office. Every time we let him have any contact with Mack and Daisy he would growl and attack them. Putting together the bits of information we had about Matcha's previous home with his behavior, I realized he had had to fight for food in an outdoor enclosure with thirty other cats, a hoarding situation. He was anxious and so he attacked. 

Gradually, with toys and treats, and smelling each other through the screen, the cats became curious and accustomed to each other. We let Matcha out of his safe room with a little harness and leash, so we could prevent the attacks. After two weeks, he was much less anxious about food. After three weeks, he and Mack were approaching each other around the opened French doors. After four weeks, Matcha was out of the safe room. 

I remember the first time I let him stay out of his safe room at night. It was just me and the three cats--my husband was away on a trip-- Matcha curled up at the foot of the bed and purred hard all night long. Every time I woke up, he was filling the bedroom with good vibrations. It was a leap of faith after the hard work of rehabilitating a very traumatized young cat, and it worked. 

Now three months later, Matcha has learned so much-- and unlearned so many of his survival skills from his previous situation. Matcha had never had canned food, or toys, or cat towers, or cardboard boxes, or grocery bags. Everything was new. We let him go outside with supervision, sometimes on the leash, sometimes running freely. This morning I let him run free, and I saw that Mack was following him and checking up on him. In another week, when we have a new cat flap in a window by the front door, we will gulp back our fears and let Matcha have outdoor time with Mack on his own.

They are well-bonded now, Matcha and Mack, wrestling and playing hide-and-chase. The favorite toy so far was a box full of crunched-up paper shreds that came with a collection of kitchen spices I ordered. What a glorious mess they made, diving into the box and scattering paper shreds all over the tv room. 

Matcha's personality has come out as he is now a very happy cat. He is playful and likes to invent new games with Mack. He will run madcap hoping that Mack will follow him, and then they will take turns chasing each other. The pattern that developed early on, while he was still in the safe room, was that after meals, when he had a full tummy, Matcha would play with his toys joyfully and then take a nap. He still does that, but now it includes Mack and Daisy. Daisy is sometimes a reluctant playmate, but she tolerates him. 

We have become very fond of Matcha, his little chirping conversations, the way he wants to do everything Mack does, and his confidence now he understands what the cat towers are for. He's still food crazy, so he gets his meals on the sun porch, and when everyone is finished, Matcha helps make sure every crumb of food is licked off the plates. It was an ordeal to find him, but Matcha is the right cat at the right time.