Take the most amazing pictures of your cats, in color, black and white, all angles. If they get lost, you will want those pictures for the flyers you hand out around your neighborhood.
Be aware of how your cat might affect other cats. If your neighbors have a Napoleon cat who’s indoors only, and your cat poops in their yard, that can drive that Napoleon so berserk that he will paint their house with pee. In that case, if you want to be a good neighbor, take your cat out on a harness or keep your cat indoors.
THE LAST STOP: SAYING GOOD-BYE WITH LOVE AND GRACE
I was doing a speaking engagement in Milwaukee a few years back. It was at the Pabst Theater, an absolutely magical place. The night itself is one I will never forget for a few reasons. It was a full house and the vibe was, for lack of a better word, ecstatic. Most performers can point to a few times in their lives when they felt such an intense connection with their audience that the line between them just melted away. For me, that night in Milwaukee was that moment. Bonding over a love for cats, celebrating that relationship together, made it into a 2-hour, 1,200-person family reunion.
Riding this natural high of give-and-take from audience to stage and back again, I launched into my traditional end-of-night Q&A. A microphone was set up in the center aisle of the theater with a single spotlight on it. A line quickly formed that went from the center of the theater all the way down the aisle to the doors. After answering a few questions (mostly about pee and poop, naturally!), I saw that at the mic was a little girl who seemed to me to be about ten years old, small enough that she was partially obscured from view by the mic stand. She was clearly shy, uncomfortable to be standing in front of all these people. I remember thinking that whatever she had to ask me must be important because her body language was telling me she’d rather be anyplace but in front of that mic, under that spotlight, looking through the darkness up to me on the stage.
I also remember that the previous question and answer had left the place a little raucous, laughter lingering from the exchange between me and the person who’d asked the question. But when she stepped up, I felt a quiet overtake the place as though a small wind had gathered everyone’s words from their lips and blown them all out the windows to scatter with the light snow on East Wells Street.
She shuffled her feet and started asking her question, but it was completely indecipherable. I asked her to speak up. Then she said:
“Jackson, I have a cat at home. I’ve known her since I was born—she’s fifteen years old, she’s my best friend, and she’s really not well. I know she’s unhappy and kind of scared. When’s the right time to let her go?”
And then the room got really, really quiet. The courage of that little girl staggered me. Talk about walking the walk! It was so important for her to know how to help her friend (and herself) through the hardest time of both of their lives that she put herself on the line for me, a stranger, in front of 1,200 other strangers. Her innate sense of generosity toward her friend made me want to cry. I didn’t—she needed a strong presence and I wanted to be what she needed. For the next ten minutes, it was just me and her, and what I felt like I owed her—the truth.
YOU KNEW WE had to go here together, right? For all of us who have shared our lives with animals, we know what it feels like to be that girl, standing in a void, throwing that question up to the universe: “When is it time?”
When is it time to say good-bye to a companion animal?
This question cuts to the heart of our end of the deal when it comes to the unconditional love that animals show to us. We have the ability to show them mercy at a time when they may be asking for that mercy. We have to remember that the spirit of euthanasia is probably best defined by its literal translation from the Greek: a kind death.
In the spirit of full disclosure, my views on the subject are, like everyone else’s, built on my experiences. I worked at an animal shelter for almost ten years. I continue to keep my feet as rooted in the world of animal welfare as I possibly can, so the concept and experience of euthanasia is very much a part of my process.
At my shelter, we performed euthanasia as a service to guardians. Some would choose not to be present, but the majority did what we highly encouraged, which was to be there with and for their companion. In the course of my years there, I came across more unfortunate reminders of the human Challenge Line than I even care to remember. I don’t think it’s necessary to spell it out in graphic detail, except to tell you that my job—comforting an animal at the end of life, as well as assisting in the passing—sometimes left a bitter taste in my mouth. Guardians who loved their animals so much, and were so afraid of losing them, found themselves paralyzed and unable to see their friends suffering in front of their eyes. Sometimes this mother of all Challenge Lines, left uncrossed, caused a guardian to keep her companion alive too long, which resulted in an inability to be present for the last moments. But every time, the result was the same: a stranger had to step in to show mercy and be a loving presence because the guardian simply could not.
The irony of that situation playing out time and again solidified my approach to that night in Milwaukee, and gave me an unflinching answer to the courageous girl at the mic:
Never on their worst day.
It’s a fine line and a loaded statement, for sure, but it has served me well over years of loving and losing animal companions and counseling many people through their process. It’s not meant to be literally dissected; it’s a way of keeping yourself in check while trying to stay completely present so that you can, in a clearheaded way, make one of the most difficult decisions you may ever have to make.
I keep the phrase in my mind to help bring me back to the moment, like snapping a rubber band that I keep around my wrist:
SNAP—It’s not about me.
SNAP—It’s not about my pain or suffering.
SNAP—It’s not about how I will fall apart in the days and weeks after losing my best friend.
It’s about them.
One of the things that makes this final decision so hard is not necessarily the finality of it all—rather, it’s the concept that “their worst day” is actually a little more subjective than it might seem. To me, it’s not just about their declining physical state, the collapse of the body. Beyond that, there’s an essential dialogue that is always struggling to take place, desires that want to be heard, as long as you are in a space where you can be available to it. Does this mean that your cat will “tell you” when it’s time? In my experience—yes. It just may not look or sound like what you’d expect. As with any very close familial relationship, you’ve developed a language together. During times like this, however, the communication can be very quiet, and the gestures minute.
Again, it’s all about presence. And presence can only happen when your mind, your needs, and your fears are all safely on the back burner.
Part of my personal process is rooted in my belief that we are all transient, we are all spirit taking a pit stop in physical form. The process of letting go of an animal companion is, in part, about shepherding him to the next place. When I think about “never on their worst day,” I am also thinking about their transition into another form. I want their last memories of this particular time around to be of love and light, not pain and suffering. I also believe that, unless they feel a bit of emotional detachment on your part when tuning into this sacred bond, they won’t feel “permission” to make that transition. If they feel like you’re still holding on, they might hold on longer than is good for them. Yes, that means that crying happens in another room, along with any other display that doesn’t serve them in that particular moment.
I’m not in any way saying that there isn’t a place for science or medicine, that there shouldn’t be a measure of fight to help save their lives. That said, no doctor, no friend, no family member can know your animal’s inner emotional and physical life better than you can. It is often a solitary deci
sion. You are their protector from fear and from suffering. That’s the deal you made with that animal the day you became his guardian, and in return he gave you his unconditional love. That love comes with a price, and this is it.
Obviously, there is no clean yes or no answer to one of the most complex, heart-shattering scenarios we will have with our cat companions. But remember that what we’ve built through the course of this book together is a toolbox, a heart-shaped container for all of the tools that are contained here. Use the tools and stay mindful of your empathetic center, and you will be guided to steer clear of the endless, tortuous inner conversations (or arguments) about whether it’s too early or too late. You will also be guided toward that final bonding moment of peace and light.
I KNOW THAT was a tough subject to tackle, but part of what we are doing here is stopping to examine and question all that we thought we knew about our animal companions. In this section, we looked at our own Challenge Lines and fearlessly put one brave foot in front of the other so that we might transcend those lines. Now that we’ve taken a deep breath, reaffirmed our relationship, and checked the stability of our toolbox and the tools that live inside, we are truly ready to put all that we have to the test as we solve the most common cat problems known to us.
Section
Four
The Cat Mojo Cookbook—Cat Daddy Solutions for Industrial Strength Issues
13
When Excessive Scratching Becomes an Issue
CAT DADDY RECIPE NO. 1—
MOJO SCRATCH MASTER
The Problem:
The corner of your sofa has become a cat-art display of shredded fabric; one side of your expensive mattress looks like it’s been dragged down a gravel road at 90 mph; the legs of your favorite coffee table are beginning to look like dinosaur toothpicks . . . and it’s all driving you out of your mind! In short, your cat is scratching everywhere but on his beautiful scratching post, which remains in pristine condition in the corner of your family room.
The Reality:
You can’t make these impulses go away. As discussed in section 2, scratching is an innate activity that cats must partake in. Furthermore, you actually want them to do it—not just because it’s a physical need, but because of the Mojo-fied choice the cat is making. Scratching is a confident exercise, one that marks territory in a self-assured way. Unconfident marking would mean peeing on the corner of the couch instead of scratching there. You can, however, reshape and redirect these impulses so that they are more acceptable to you and your shared household.
Cat Daddy Solutions:
Scratching problems are generally resolved through use of my No/Yes tool (as introduced in chapter 9). In this case, we’re saying “no” to scratching the furniture, but “yes” to scratching the right type of scratching post. Here’s my recommended process:
Do Your Detective Work and Observe Their Scratching Style: First, we have to make sure that the scratching post we use will accommodate the specific way your cat scratches. Surface preference is often at least one reason why they refuse to use the scratching post you might already have on hand, and could explain why the couch suits their needs better. So let’s say it’s your couch that’s getting the worst of it.
Observe the sturdiness of the couch. When your cat reaches way up, then pulls down, stretching out their pec muscles, removing those sheaths of nail, and doing all the things that are natural exercise to a cat, that couch is not going anywhere. So sturdiness would be a primary reason why your cat prefers the couch over the scratching post.
Notice the texture of the couch and the fabric that it’s made of. Is it notably different from what’s on the existing scratching post? Or, if you’re planning on bringing in a new scratching post, take note of the texture so you can find a suitable replica.
Discourage the Scratching: Since the basic principle of the No/Yes is that you have to give them a “no” before you give them a “yes,” it’s okay to tell your cat you don’t want her to scratch your couch. One of the things I really love about this approach is that it’s the environment itself, not you, that tells her “no” by making the locations unpleasant to scratch. There is double-sided tape you can use that’s designed to deter cats from furniture, but tin foil, plastic office runners, or silky fabric furniture coverings also work just fine as temporary deterrents. I think one of the main reasons I get the “Oh, hell no!” look when I suggest this solution, is that it is perceived as the end product as opposed to a part of the process. The “no” is a learning tool; it is meant to be temporary as long as the “yes” is equally strong. When you have established a good pattern of “yes!” on the scratching post, you can slowly start removing the “no!”
Consider the Placement/Location of the Post: Bring the “yes” (scratching post) to the immediate vicinity of the “no” (the furniture they’ve been scratching). It will no doubt be in proximity to where you, the human, spend a lot of time. That’s why your couch and your bed are the number one and two most popular scratching targets—because your scent is so strong in both. Scratching is a way of complementing your scent with theirs; it’s a way of marking, in a visual and olfactory sense, a piece of furniture that is equally owned by both of you.
Bring in the Appropriate Scratching Post: Now for the “yes”—the actual post. As mentioned, the type and style will be contingent on where/how they’ve been scratching. So let’s start with our couch-scratching example:
You will need a scratching post that is tall enough, and with a base wide enough, to accommodate the way your cat scratches the couch (think sturdy, similar texture, etc.). One serious complaint I have with many of the stand-alone scratching posts on the market is that they are almost built to wobble, and are barely tall enough for a kitten. When shopping, imagine your cat stretching as far up as he can go, then add six to ten inches, and a base that’s at least twenty inches square.
If the bottom of your couch has a low clearance, you can wedge the base of the scratching post under the couch itself, or under one of the feet of the couch, so that the post doesn’t wiggle when it’s scratched. Now you’ve created something that serves the purpose of proximity, and also provides the right scratching tool.
Encourage Use: You can encourage your cat into the “scratching position” by dragging a toy along the scratching post or using catnip or a treat to lure him to it. Whatever you do, don’t force the issue. Carrying your cat to the post and moving his paws against the surface is a surefire way to annoy him!Here’s another hint that has worked for me in attracting cats to the scratching post: While rubbing catnip on the post is a common “trick,” I think it is a bit hit or miss. But rubbing anything with your scent on it—i.e., a worn shirt or used towel—has worked much more often for me since it helps to accomplish the desired result for your cat, which is a mingling of scents.
Positive Reinforcement: To help lock in the new scratching protocol, give your cat praise and treats when she uses the post. Remember to save Jackpot! Treats only for these times of initial training so the association is unmistakable.
Notes from the Chef
Check out chapter 8 for an even more thorough explanation on scratching and post options.
If you’re really struggling with the aesthetics of a scratching post and how it interfaces with your home environment, get creative and find something that speaks to your aesthetic. No excuses! (For inspiration, check out my book Catify to Satisfy. There you will find an abundance of cool scratching post ideas, inspired by fellow cat guardians like you.)
Always keep your cat’s nails trimmed.
A FEW MORE odds and ends:
What about discouraging kneading as well?
I’m not a fan of stopping cats from kneading. It’s a sign of love and trust that comes from a very deep place. Kneading, also known as “making biscuits” and “smurgling,” among other terms, is a behavior that sta
rts very soon after birth. The kneading action, when performed on Mom, stimulates the delivery of milk through her mammaries. Talk about a Raw Cat ritual! Of course, if it’s an issue, you can keep a soft blanket on your lap to prevent your cat’s nails from digging into your legs.
How about the use of SoftPaws/nail caps?
I consider nail caps a last resort; you really shouldn’t do it unless you have to. You still need to trim your cat’s nails, the caps can be tricky to size, and they pop off when the nail grows, so you need to reapply them. I prefer you accommodate the Raw Cat with scratching options, and let her assert herself territorially rather than trying to stop her from scratching.
What about having my cat declawed as a solution for all of this scratching?
Absolutely not, no, never ever, under any circumstances! Read on for more info on declawing. . . .
Declawing: Don’t Do It!
We love our cats. We share our beds with them, we keep their photos on our phones, we cry when they are sick, and mourn like nothing else when they die. But in the United States, an estimated 25 percent of cat guardians still elect to have their cats declawed. In case you’re not exactly sure what declawing is, let me make it crystal clear. Declawing is the amputation (either via guillotine, laser, or scalpel) of the ends of a cat’s toes, up to the first joint. Don’t do it!
When cats are declawed, they experience incredible pain, both immediately after the surgery (which is often used as a procedure to test pain medication) and due to long-term phantom pain.
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