Tortureshell: The One Who Came Before, and a Breeder Who Lies

Friends, this week has been one big chunk of interruptions to our normal schedule, and I'm afraid today is no acception. This tortureshell I'm afraid, is another one of those that leaves the human terribly upset. It involves the story and the fate of one of the ones who came before. I met her only briefly, and if I'm honest with you, I didn't like what I saw. What I saw was all claws and teeth and hissing and spiting and thwapping and growling and chasing, mind you, and the human says she does have a softer side. As I'm probably biased, I'm going to let the human tell the rest of the story.




Anna was my first ever pedigree cat, and the first I'd owned totally on my own. I'd had others around, but they were always family cats. I thought long and hard before I bought a Russian, and researched all the breed thoroughly. She looked as though she would meet what I wanted in a cat. Sweet tempered, quiet, content to be an indoor cat, not destructive, intelligent, people oriented, high tolerance for dogs. I searched for a long time before I found the right kitten, and when I did, it was love at first sight. This kitten went from being one who didn't readily cuddle to one who climbed on my knee and began purring on our first meeting. Needless to say, I kept her.





That next year was to bring many changes, however. Anna's whole personality was beautiful for about a month or so, then seemed to change overnight. She refused to be handled, bit and swiped at me when I tried to pick her up or even move her to sit down, and that's not all. She began to poo outside the tray, but for the longest time, she wasn't consistent with where she did it. Can you imagine trying to find poo when you can't see it and you live in a big house? Nightmare is not the word. Sometimes I'd go days before coming across it, and that was less than hygienic. Still, I loved her, so persisted.





Next came the scratching. My carpets suffered. The bath pannel's protective covering was ripped to pieces. The lino in the bathroom was shredded. She scratched the back of the sofa so much that she pulled the staples out. Every time the door was opened, she'd dart out and do her best to escape outside. Still, I couldn't give up. I thought she needed more stimulation. I thought she might be upset. I thought she might be injured... I thought and thought and thought, and for months on end, attempted to help her overcome her problems. As a final resort, and already appreciating the inevitable at this time, I thought maybe she needed company. That's when I took Tia into my home, but from the first sight of her right up until the day she left, Anna showed nothing but hostility towards her.





Things had reached an all-time low. I was living with a cat who was destroying my house, putting me at risk of all sorts of nasties from poo, terrorising other cats, escaping every time I tried to enter or exit my house, and above all, who wouldn't allow me to touch her for any prolonged period. I might have been able to cope with her if I could have seen her, but I couldn't. Essentially, I was getting nothing out of keeping her only misery, huge bills, and the profound heartache of deeply loving a cat who seemed not to care for me in return. She didn't seem happy here (that's what I put her destructive behaviour, inappropriate toileting etc down to), and obviously had a great yearning for the outside which, living in a flat, I couldn't satisfy. Reluctantly, I realised that I needed to find a home who could better provide for Anna.





But this posed a problem. I didn't want her to go to any old home. Despite the problems, she'd lived with me for a year. I loved her deeply. I knew she wouldn't be an easy cat, and I didn't want her being shipped from home to home because they couldn't cope with her. I knew I needed to choose carefully, and decided to keep her for as long as it took to find the right forever home, despite the damage she was doing to my home and heart. I would have kept her till the end of her life if I had to, and would have loved her despite it all.





Her original breeder had offered, or more honestly, demanded, to take her back. however, this was an older lady who was quite frankly struggling to look after the million or so cats she had both physically and financially, and I didn't want Anna to go back to that. She said that she would actively seek a home for her, but that she wouldn't tell me where my cat ended up. Again, this wasn't acceptable for me. I wanted, no needed, to know who she ended up living with.





A few weeks later, I had two phone calls, one from a family who were interested, but a little worried about her problems, and one from another Russian breeder who just happened to be a friend of the original one. Although I was suspicious of intent, I decided to interview the latter. She bred Russians, so would be more equipped to cope with inappropriate toileting, cat aggression, damage to propperty etc. Anna loved to go outside, and the breeder had a large secure area where she could go and be safe. This woman is so professional that she even has a boarding cattery. She seemed perfect, but with that one little hitch of being friends with the original lady.





To cut a long story short, she came to the house, looked at Anna, and seemed very genuine. After a very, very long chat with her, I decided that Anna would be quite happy with her, but made the breeder promise that she was not taking anna for the express purpose of rehoming her at a later date, as breeder a had said she would. She promised she wouldn't, said she loved Russians so much that a neuter who wasn't contributing to the breeding programme would be considered as a person to be treasured rather than an inconvenience, and assured me that she thought Anna would end up being good company for her other cats. I reaffirmed this quite a few times, but in the end, was satisfied.





I missed Anna dreadfully when she left. The poor breeder got an email begging for a new update about every second for that first week, and at least twice a day for a good few weeks after. I was struggling to let go. Eventually though, over months, my concern grew less. Anna was happy. I could start letting go and healing the hurt left behind in her absence. On a lighter note, I could also start healing my damaged carpets, lino and sofa. This I began to do.





Today, I received an email in my inbox from a mutual friend telling me that Anna had been rehomed at the beginning of January. She lives with a couple now, and her little brother and a puppy. This hit me with the equivalent force of a punch in the stomach by a championship boxer. I was devastated. Now I didn't know where my cat was, what kind of people she was with, or how to get in contact. The cat is only 21 months old, well, almost 22, and she's already had four homes in her short life. It was to avoid this exact thing happening that I agreed to keep her until I found a permanent home. The breeder had promised me she would keep her, and yet, she'd gone back on her word. I don't know why. I don't know a lot, but what I do know, I wish I didn't. I was told casually that the new owners use a radio controlled wire fence and a collar on the cats and dog which makes sure that they stay within the boundary when outside. My research tells me that those collars enforce the boundary conditioning by means of an electric shock as aversion to crossing the line. If any of you know of collars which condition in a different way, please tell me, as the thought of her being shocked, even if only mildly, has me so upset and heart broken that I feel physically sick with the misery of it.,/p>



p>I have sent the breeder an email demanding an explannation of why she went back on her word, and why I had to find out about it through a mutual friend rather than hearing it from her direct. I trusted her. I have no legal standing as far as I'm aware to demand the return of Anna, and as I don't even know who has her, I have no way of tracing her to find out if she's happy or not. This has taught me something though. It has taught me never to take anyone on face value, no matter how genuine and nice seeming they are. Never trust word alone. Ensure that it is written, signed and verified, and then when something like this happens, there is some recourse.





Through my tears this afternoon, anger has boiled, and done so fiercely. I have used it as my drive to create what I see as an absolutely water-tight contract which will now be signed by the purchaser before any kittens go off to their forever homes. If people are genuine, they shouldn't mind doing this, as it states in brief that the kitten is a pet, is not to be bred from, is to be fed propperly and given all vet care as needed. If conditions fail to be met, the breder, i.e, me, can repossess the cat at any time. This means that I can be certain my kittens are going to be looked after. I've also put a condition in there that says that a cat of my breeding can never be rehomed without my prior knowledge and consent, and that in such circumstances, I can also take the cat back if no agreement as to a suitable new home can be made. I'm damned if I'm going to let a repeat of Anna's sorry case happen to me again.





A word to the wise. Always write it down. If you make an agreement of any kind, commit it to paper. For any novice breeders, don't sell a kitten until you have a good contract. I'm happy to provide mine if anyone wants to see it. If anyone wants the name of the Russian Blue breeder in the UK whose word is not to be trusted, I'm also happy to provide that.





Now I can only hope that my Anna is happy wherever she is, that the breeder is decent enough to at least put me in contact with the new owners (not holding my breath on that one), and that a radio controlled wire fence and collar doesn't mean electric shocks. My Anna, for all your trouble, I miss you like crazy. Be well, sweet, crazy, naughty, infuriating, once cuddly little lady. You'll always have a very special place in my heart.

Mr Softee Needs Your Help!

Friends, I don't normally feature rescue cats on my blog for a few reasons. Firstly, there are so many of my poor counterparts just waiting for peoples like my human to come along that, if i was to feature them all, that's all the blog would be about. Secondly, it makes the human upset when we write about them, cuz she feels so bad that they're still waiting for a forever home, and she wants to go and get them and take them all in. Thirdly, it makes me feel more than a little guilty for complaining the way I do about the shoddy service in this place, the lack of a constant supply of tuna and stinky goodness, and the fact that the human gets annoyed when I play ping pong with my gajillion and sixteen ping pong balls in the middle of the night. I don't do feelings of guilt very well... I'm a cat, after all.




Every now and then though, a story comes along that I just have to do something about, and this is one of those times. I'd appreciate it if you other readers could either post something about it, or tell friends that you might have in the UK. We found a home for Sparkles, let's do it for Mr Softee!





So, who is he and what is he like? Well, he's a 13-year-young brown spotted Bengal boy, a pure breed as far as me and the human know. He was rescued about six months ago, but sadly, nothing is known about his history. We don't know if he was an indoor or outdoor kind of boy, but the ladypeople who is fostering him would like him to be an indoor only cat. We don't know how well he gets along with other cats. The fosterer would like him to go to a single cat home, but I wonder. If he's a softee, then he may well get along with others. The problem is, nobody can say he does because we just don't know. Now to the most important part; personality. This boy was not called Mr Softee when he was rescued, but the foster ladypeople gave him that name. Why? Because that's exactly what he is. He loves peoples, and he loves with only the strength that a cat can muster! That means he loves biiiiiig!





This boy has no health problems that we've been told about. Bengals are a lovely breed of cat who promise hours of fun to the ones they own. Mr Softee is just waiting to interview his next trainee slaves. Will you be one of them? He's been in rescue for six months now. Apparently nobody wants him because of his age. A lot of peoples say that a cat ages seven years for every one human one. Can you imagine being uprooted from the only home you've ever known at an age of 91? All you want to do is get comfy, stay warm and have a cuddle, yet nobody will offer to be your forever cuddle buddy because you're too old. It's horrible. No wonder Mr Softee is searching for his forever person. Please give him a chance. Older cats can live healthily for years. Why not find out of friend Softee is one of them?





If you think you can offer a home to this lovely boy, please either leave a comment or send my human an email. He is in Woking, Surrey.

Happy and Sad

We have news, friends, but not all of it is good. My human is going to need some more snuggling, it seems. I'll tell you the sad first, then we can brighten a little with happy thoughts. Last night when it was dark outside, Dogman's grandad went to what some of you others called the rainbow bridge. The human knew him very well for years, and although he'd been sick for a long while with something even worse than runny eyes or even a runny bum, although they all expected it to happen, it's still come as a bit of a shock. Poor Dogman, like the human, found out when he was at work, and both have had to carry on their days there despite their grief. Dogman's grandad, even though I didn't know you, I think I would have liked you cuz the human says you were a happy man and a good cuddler. You will be missed by all you left behind. The human says she doesn't want to talk about this any more, and I can't blame her. It's about time she had a break, don't you think? I'm not one to go soft on her, but it just seems like it's been one thing after another after another for the last few months, with hardly time to surface and snatch a breath in between before the next wave comes. I will snuggle her silly tonight and eas her as much as I can.




Now, on to happier things. Thank you all so much for the human's birthday wishes. She saved them all up till the end of the day before she read them, and they gave her a happy face. She got presents too. Her cousin, the biggest humankitten that lives with little Phoebe actually, sent her some super posh chocolate in the post. The thing from the HGG was a bead for her Pandora charm bracelet. We can't work out what it is though, and the HGG can't remember (she has big memory problems), but it's an animal with a long tail that's kinda sitting up. The human thinks it's either a cat or a monkey. Oh, she's now officially considered the crazy cat lady too, or so she thinks. Her auntie, again the one that lives with Phoebe, says she sent her a birthday card with a cat face on it. When you open it and rub the cat's tummy, it even sings! The human says that when peoples search for birthday cards with cats on, it's a sign that you are the CCL. This singing sounds interesting to me though. I wonder if it's a skill I should start working on? Just as well it's only a picture and not a real cat else I'd have to get jealous! I will study its singing ability with great interest when mr postman finally drops it off in the post box.





When the human got home from the work hunt yesterday, there was a message from another friend of hers, not the one who cancelled, asking her if she was doing anything that evening. The friend, hmmmm, let's call her funny lady (cuz she speaks with a funny accent), wanted to know if the human would go out with her, and of course she said yes. I packed her off to do her cleaning in the shower. It's such a shame they don't have the tongue to do it thoroughly and propperly, isn't it? Then she put on the non-fur clothes to cover her body and off she went.





Well, funny lady had surpassed herself! Instead of taking the human out, she took her to her house where she had made the most beautiful meal. There was chicken pie (why didn't I get some!) and delfinoise potatoes whatever they are, and peas in a cream sauce. This was followed by chocolate cake and champagne. This was all freshly home made (well, except for the champagne), and was simply divine. They finished up by giving her a card that they had got their son, who also has broken eyes, to braille for her. He was so excited about the human reading it. He's still quite a small kitten, you see, so it was a big achievement for him to write it.





The human got back late and was quite tired, but she'd had a super day, far better than she expected it would be. But wait, there's more to come.





The human received perhaps the best present yesterday morning by email. It was news, and boy was it big news. You remember Sparkles, the cat with the lonely heart? Well, she's found her forever home! The human is so pleased about this. She felt an incredibly strong connection with Sparkles and would have taken her herself if there wasn't that huge ocean thing in between. As it was, she worked hard to make sure other peoples and cats and dogfaces featured her on their blogs. We even got her mentioned in Ireland! It simply made her day to know that yesterday, on her birthday of all days, Sparkles was adopted. And as if that wasn't coincidence enough, she's going to live with a lady who calls her blog Kat's Kats,. Her brother was adopted by another lady who writes Cat's Cats. How about that for an awesome confluence of events! Was there a reason for the connection the human felt? Well, I can't say, but it's pretty cool anyway. Sparkles, we hope your transport day this weekend goes super smoothly, and that you settle in well. You're going to a house of tims, so it shouldn't take you any time at all to begin your reign as princess supreme. You'll love it!





The human is waiting now only for her Birthday cards to arrive in the post, and to see whether she will go and be with Dogman to help him through his loss. She's told him she'll come, but he isn't sure he wants company, so if we don't blog for a few days, it's cuz the human has ran off to see him. Oh, that chocolate is certainly going to be needed to help get through the latest tough time. Now, where did I store the rest of my sandpaper kisses?

Tortureshell Tuesday: People Style

It's been a while since I had a tortureshell, and after I've written this, you'll see why I wouldn't mind it being another long while until the next one. Yes, friends, you read that correctly. Perhaps I'm becoming soft with all the holiday spirit still around, but Tortureshells haven't been on my mind for a while! This one isn't even of my doing. It's a people Tortureshell. Allow me to elaborate.




The human has a massive peoples family, and when I say massive, I mean it. on the HGG's side alone, there are 16 cousins of the human, and already 6 second cousins who are all still kittens, with another one on the way! The human great grandad's side is massive too, and one of those peoples on his side has two cats. Good for her, I hear you say, and indeed, I thought so too, until last night.





The human saw a post on the dreaded Facebook that mentioned that the relation was "getting rid of the cats". What? Getting rid of a trainer? It really galls me when peoples think they can do this. Sure, they have thumbs and have control of the stinky goodness, but that doesn't make them lord of all they survey. Perhaps they're of the opinion that they're through with training and don't need us any more, but the least they could do is give us the contracted notice period so that we can find another home, preferably with that old lady down the street who feeds you nice food because she thinks you don't have any other home to go to (mancats, I trust you know what I mean). I mean, it's a pretty poor way for them to show their gratitude for all of our hard work when they simply turf us out onto the street, or, in this case, into PTUs.





The reason for "getting rid" as she called it was because her trainers had decided they were going to do a bit of what I call inappropriate scratching, which is to say, sharpening one's claws on various things: items of furniture, walls, carpets, the occasional bit of soft, yielding human flesh. I fail to see why this causes a problem bearing in mind that usually, we are simply trying to teach the peoples that they wouldn't need to cut their finger nails if they would only scratch as we do. This people didn't get the hint though, and decided enough was enough.





The human got on top of it as soon as she saw the dreaded message of doom and gave the people lots of advice. She even told her about Soft Claws, and offered to give her some spare that we have. The people was going on about how much she loved her cats and how there'd be "tears all round" when they went, but said she'd look into Soft Claws as she "really didn't want to get rid of them". The human went to bed happy that she'd at least saved two cats from going to the Cat's Protection shelter.





Midway through the day today, she saw this message. "My wee cats are gone. Tears all round." um, what? People, what do you think you're doing! The human helped! The human was gobsmacked, and the heart went out of her. She wrote back to the people, saying sharply that she thought she'd said she loved the cats and would look into things, but she's got no answer. It's left her rather upset, and she's not the only one.





The more I've thought about this today, the madder I've gotten. I don't know where peoples get the idea that we are disposable. They allow us into their lives, con us into thinking that they will feed and care for us forever in return for their training, then break all trust and contracts by throwing us out on our ear for the smallest infraction. I think they sometimes forget that we are intelligent and have feelings and might actually care about it. They see us as nothing more than a ball of fluff to be cuddled and manhandled and cooed over, no more than an animated teddy bear that can be put away in a box when you're finished playing with it. Well, guess what? We're not! If I wasn't more secure with my human, this would make me wonder if she'd do the same to me, but when I confronted her with it, she just laughed, tickled my tummy, and assured me that I am the best trainer for her. Sure, she might add a kitten or two to our family, but it doesn't change the fact that that's what we are; a family. And you don't throw your family members out for inappropriate behaviour. You feed them tuna instead! Right, human?





Working on the peoples idea that they choose us rather than the other way around (I know it's not true, but it serves my purposes to pretend so for one paragraph), a pet is for life, not just for Christmas or Birthday or playing with or for the good times. We're in it for better or for worse. When you pick up that cute puppy or kitten in a pet shop or at someone's home, you should be saying your marriage vows to us. Are you ready for a commitment of that magnitude? Are you ready for the till death do us part portion of it? Because, you selfish peoples who think you can just dump a pet when you're done with your toy, we certainly make that commitment. In most cases, we actually mean it too. Sure, we think you're cute, we think you need our help, we think you're fun to play with, but you know what? When that wears off, when the novelty of having you around goes away, the love, the caring still remains. Where's your portion of that? Where di dyour love go, human's relation? It certainly didn't go with those two cats in their PTUs on the way to the shelter.





At least in the UK, we have no kill shelters, but if pets are dumped in the states or Canada, often they end up at horrible places of death. Beth, a rescuer from Canada, does wonderful work with a local shelter that practices euthanasia, saving cats from the twice weekly death day and placing them in foster homes for adoption. She's so passionate about it that she's even started her own rescue.
She also regularly blogs about the horrific conditions she saves cats from
Just think, she wouldn't need to if peoples weren't so thoughtless, selfish and inconsiderate of our wants and needs. Grrrrr!





Ok, rant over now, I promise. Now that I've got it out of my system, I am going to go prepare for the human's Birthday. It's only tomorrow, and I'm excited! The catnip crew gave me a great idea for a present...