Like us, each cat has a different personality - some, if you tell them "No" once, will desist from the activity forever, while those with the more devious natures, though they know it's forbidden, will merely wait until you're not around, and then do it anyway. And some… are simply evil.

 

This is a true story but the names have been changed (except She Who Must Be Named) to avoid unexpected consequences particularly from the Kitty.

 Em, my wife, and I have always had cats as our family for over 30 years. All of them “have followed us home” in one form or another and all of them have been neutered, male, indoor tabbies except for our very first cat which was an unspayed, female, outdoor cat. Over that period we have pretty much had a succession of ‘family’. Being humane, responsible and having sensitive natures, some would say to the point of acknowledging that rocks have feelings, we happily sacrificed a couples lifestyle for one that would normally be considered a healthy, caring ‘family’ relationship.

Our last cat died over about two years ago, or maybe less than that as time takes on different meanings when one is mourning, and we made a decision to not get another cat and experienced the freedom and pain of being empty-nesters after a very meaningful ceremony.

 We soon embarked on enjoying the freedoms, that the restrictive bonds of responsibility prohibits, and abandoned ourselves to the ways and temptations of the Big City not coming home ‘til the wee hours if at all!

 After several months of this we felt a creeping hollowness inside. One day Em said that she always wanted to have a small dog, perhaps a Pekinese, and unlike a cat they were less restricting as they had an unquestioning, social nature and one could continue to enjoy the freedoms that we were enjoying with far less concern that one would come home to a pissed off cat whose only focus of retribution was to piss on the already shredded furniture.

 In the following few months we made new acquaintances some of whom had dogs. We chatted about the pros and cons of having one and were inclined in favour of getting a dog when we were ready. But the thing is we could not see it coming by way of our usual philosophy that, pretty much all things animal, vegetable and mineral ‘find’ us and we would likely have to get one from a breeder. This was a big con but was only just outweighed by the freedom of mobility which we were just starting to appreciate that dogs have to offer, being more companionable, in that they could come with you in most situations where cats couldn’t. Of course the flip side of this is the dog has to be walked in any kind of weather, stooping ‘n scooping in increasingly abnormal weather events, as they call them, winter especially.

Then we would meet some cat people and have a similar discussion. We are decidedly cat people too and these meetings were as if they were extended family sharing kiddie stories at a family reunion. The empathy was irresistible and we were turning away from our objectivity and the cons were all but forgotten.

 Several months passed between meeting dog people and cat people and it was dog…cat…dog…cat, etc.

 One glorious summer evening we were visiting with my out-of-town sister who had two cats, a dog and a number of goldfish in a pond out back. We were having dinner on her front lawn chatting with the neighbours in their comings and goings and as the twilight was darkening we met a very interesting neighbour and the conversation turned again to our indecision. She was a cat person and she asked us, “Do you believe in the Cat Fairy?” This was the sign to open our hearts to any manner of cats and the end of the official state of mourning.

 Upon returning we opened our thoughts to the metaphysics of the ‘Cat Fairy’ and as one seldom finds too many cats on the streets these days what with Satanists and all, we only saw two cats in as many weeks, the first had no interest in ‘Cat Fairies’ and the second one we really had to ‘feel’ if this was our furry, pre-ordained gift. It ignored us too. “Well”, we told ourselves, “Perhaps the next one.”

 On our way back we stopped into the convenience store in our building. The owner asked how our day was and other than not finding a cat, we told him it was a wonderful day and then started to half-jokingly tell him of the cat ‘quest’. He said, “I have a cat. Well my kids have a cat and I think they have to find it a home.”

 “Really!!” we exclaimed. “So you are the Cat Fairy!” He became quite confused at such a remark, a little taken aback to say the least! But his familiarity with our manner soon brought him around.

 As it turns out, his kids have been looking after a kitten for a couple of weeks for a school friend who, if their father didn’t have an allergic reaction to cats, might have kept it. They said it was a few months old and had all its shots. Of course the kids were blindly in love with it and were not really appreciating their father’s more pragmatic view. Kids these days! His kids are just like bundles of energy but mostly out with their friends and leaving Dad to take care of the necessary routines. He’d already been through that with the dog!

 But the moment had come for the Cat Fairy to work her magic and instill a little sense into the otherwise overzealous minds of kids and we asked if we could see ‘her’. We were told it was a ‘little’ her and her name was Shisha. Awwwww!

 That evening Em and I went next door to see little Shisha and as it turns out at first look it was the darlingest little kitten. It could fit in a teapot. It was squirmy, skinny, all legs and all black, except for a small wispy white spots on her belly button and the right side of her chest. It was irresistible and bundled her into Em’s waiting arms and into my arms was bundled the cat carrier and dry kitten food.

We never had a kitten before and didn’t fully appreciate what we were in for, let alone a kitten such as this. But it was soooo cute for the first 36 hours. The cutest thing was it’s helping Em with her business on the computer.

Then we were beginning to see her true nature slowly reveal itself day-by-day. One of the first things we recognized that the name Shisha was not relevant and as the Cat Fairy was not very helpful in this we consulted with an exceptional person we knew, particularly as it comes to naming things. When we saw him next we asked him if he had time to think about it, and with a big white grin he said, “Zina”.

Well this isn’t exactly how it happened. More accurately, we happened to be passing by an apartment complex and noticed a coloured straw witch about four feet tall sitting on a post. Em loves all things Halloween so we took ‘her’ home. Now this person that we know happened to have walked by earlier that day and noticed the same witch which mutually came into our conversation. Em said it needed a name and asked him to name it. This is what he called Zina. Subsequently and sadly the witch had to go as its chances of survival with the kitten are non-existent. We’re sure she has found a good home. So the name, Zina, was cosmically transferred to the kitten.

Except for a little sniffle, Zina was a very healthy kitten and healthy kittens love to explore their new world beyond the food dish and litter box. At her age, as the vet figures 3 months, there is no such thing as the word curiosity, it was like life in the Garden of Eden before the bite, before the options of tempting fate. Soon though, she was sensing and feeling the limitations of Eden and the seed of adventure quietly blossomed in that garden.

 Have you noticed that one of their first adventures, one of first things they pay attention to, other than her toys, are some form of electric cables? It’s like they are drawn to the energy and want to get energized. Zina was most interested in the computer cables. What a smart cat!

 “No Zina” (moderately firm)

 “No Zina” (moderately loud)

Thus begins the Game of No

 All of our previous cats must have been smart as they learned (in our terms) that we had their best interests at heart and (in their terms) avoided the humiliation of a smack on the butt. No was a game that was best left to others.

 “No Zina!!” (smack on the butt and pulled her away) and she skulks off only to attack Em’s ankles in a few seconds. The first few times it is cute, and besides her pointy little claws and teeth just tickled so Em just picked her up and cuddled her. Did I say cute? When she was put down the kitty faked an attack again but it was off to her food dish then off to snooze.

 It was not long until we heard the tell-tale sounds of the carpet being clawed up right by the place she was trying to chew the computer cable.

 “No Zina” (moderately loud)

 “No Zina” (loud sharp)

 “No Zina!!” (smack on the butt and pulled her away) and she skulks off only to again attack Em’s ankles.

 We’re beginning to think now that this might not be so cute. Maybe she wants us to play ‘toys’ with her, she sure has enough of them, and if we do it long enough maybe she’ll be satisfied and sleep or something but hopefully this is not going to be a night-time routine. Thankfully the diversion worked.

 One of her home-made toys were tin-foil balls we scrunched up and she was crazy about them! The problem with these balls is that she would scrunch them up to the point where they would get lost under the furniture and appliances and it was easier to make another one than to take the extra time and effort to retrieve the lost ones. Besides they would get lost a lot quicker if she batted them one more time under the furniture, etc. We solved that by scrunching up paper balls and they were pretty fool-proof and shrink-proof with the added bonus of being shreddable which resulted in more quality time for us all (from our point of view perhaps not so much hers except for the shredding of course).

 She explored everywhere, on every thing, every surface, front, back and around… under the same as well. Of course we cat-proofed the apartment, putting away anything that was breakable, eatable (such as plants), etc. and left two upholstered pieces for her to shred (which she has so done), one of which was my chair, but I am happy to sit in anything, and as it turns out, a sturdy upholstered chair for Em which has so far escaped the ravages of Zina. This is a small mercy on Zina’s part, or concession to keep us participating in the Game of No – hard to tell.

 Should we start keeping score now? OK – Zina 5, Us 2

 During one of her explorations she discovered the tin foil balls I had on the end of my rabbit-ear antennae. Our TV reception is pretty low-tech. We didn’t watch much TV but enjoyed some programs on the two stations that the ‘ears’ would bring in. It didn’t matter so much on my TV because I could close the door, but on Em’s TV, and even though there were no foil balls, an aerial was an aerial to Zina balls or no and she would move the aerials that we had so painstakingly adjusted.

 “No Zina!” (loud sharp)

 This would have her disappear behind the TV which was equally as bad as the antenna connection was there further messing it up.

 “No Zina!!” (loud sharp and grabbing the scruff of her neck)

 Yet back she would go again. We would have to do this several times after which she would attack Em’s ankles again with a little more intent to show who was winning and then my ankles again for good measure.

 Zina 13, Us 2

 This was my first “No Zina!” (tentative and pushed her away). Em was not impressed with me.

 Generally speaking, this ‘ankle thing’ applied to both Em and I. Zina was an ‘ankle’ kitten, hopefully too young to be considered an ankle fetish but definitely an incipient behaviour. Ankle-biting to cats is possibly something like tire-chasing to dogs. Some kind of self-destructive thrill to it. Zina has been too long out of the Garden of Eden and is becoming a little devilish.

 As Zina is a few months older her behaviour is becoming disturbingly intensified and her repertoire has added a few more tricks to the Game of No. She is still clawing up the carpet and we have covered nearly all the edges with something, thankfully she is not after the cables any more, one big one for our side! But now after she gets shoved away she will claw her way up the back of Em’s chair and chew her hair! She is hard to dislodge without getting up every time and dragging her away shouting “No” and smacking her butt! Then she will go after the ankles again. “No” “No” “No”….!!! By now we have given up keeping score. To us Zina has won the Game of No but to her it is ongoing! As she gets longer/bigger/taller the higher she still attacks. She easily reaches our lower body and is clinging to our hips now. She’s still after Em’s hair, chair, our carpet, TV, ankles…will it ever end?

 I am secretly hoping that her spaying will be of some solution. God, maybe she needs a friend!

 People have told me that I’m not being too unrealistic to hope and books that I’ve read and internet message boards I’ve searched all give me hope.

 Did I happen to say that in all my researching that I now know we have an Oriental Shorthair? For those who didn’t know, like me, that’s a breed of Siamese and American Shorthair. This is now becoming understandable. These cats, Siamese more so than Americans, have reputations and smarts! Now I know we’re not alone with this being!

When we took her to the vet for her operation, I quietly asked one of the technicians if the operation would “modify her behaviour?” “Most likely” Whew!

 When we picked her up the next day, we were told to watch that she didn’t tear at her stitches for the next twelve days. Stitches!!! Twelve days!!! My God it didn’t even occur to us! Twelve days and nights – 24/7 - They sold us a collar just in case.

 We were figuring for the next day or two that she would be pretty well knocked out, but that was not to be. She was her old self as soon as she walked out of her cage. She immediately started checking everything that it was still there and then had a bit to eat and some water. Normally she isn’t a water drinker so to me that is at least a step in the right direction as far as changes were concerned. Then she decided to have a good look at the stitches.

 “Oh God, No!”

 On went the collar and for the next twelve days the only thing that didn’t happen was that she didn’t go for the ankles. Could have only been the collar that protected not just her tummy but also our lower body.

 After the stitches were removed it was life as usual. A Pain in the Ass (PITA)

 Such is Zina, The PITA Kitty, and the Game of No

•  By John Warren with Edits by Marie Van Schie, Apr 23, 2009

 BTW. There turns out to be a God… stay tuned

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