unwilding

Someone was watching me.  

MSL was away, and I was having dinner alone.  My phone was propped against my water glass, playing a newscast to fill the silence, when I was overcome by that unsettling feeling that unknown eyes were upon me.  I turned off the news and sat and listened for a moment, but all I heard was the clock ticking - which made the moment even eerier. I spun quickly and looked behind me into the kitchen.  Nobody there.  

I got up from the table and went to the front door, which was open because it was a warm autumn evening.  Again, nobody was there.  I shut the door and locked it.  I checked the living room, the library, and the bathroom and convinced myself that I was the only one in the house.  

And then, as I returned to the dining room and glanced at the window, there was a face outside - tight against glass.  He didn’t flinch and he didn’t duck away when our eyes met.  He just stared back at me. I stopped in my tracks and caught my breath - and after a moment of recognition, relaxed.  I knew this face - orange hair, green eyes, pointy ears - Tygger, the neighborhood peeping tomcat.  

He had been doing this a lot lately.  When the front door was open, he’d sit on the top step, just outside the screen. From our patio and our driveway, we’d often find him looking in our basement windows.  And on this night, here he is, perching on the windowsill, looking in with what seems to be a curiosity regarding our indoor life.  

Tygger has been known in the neighborhood for a couple of years. His attitude toward humans is wary, but not belligerent. He seems to understand that we can be of use to him, but he’s not sure how much to trust us. It is possible that he’s been feral from birth, but we don’t think so - he isn’t fierce when cornered like a fully wild animal would be. 

His regular patrols make him visible enough to be a presence, yet distant enough to not be a nuisance. He provides the service of checking the small rodent population, and he’s never been known to be aggressive toward pets or people. 

Our best guess is that, as a kitten, he was a pet in one of the neighborhood houses, and when the residents moved on, Tygger was left behind.  He’s stayed around and managed to provide a survivable life for himself, denning under sheds and porches, feeding on what he can catch, and the handouts of humans.  He’s made it through storms of all sorts, some brutal stretches of winter weather, and weeks of midwestern summer heat. He’s smart enough to stay away from the street when the kids are racing to and from the nearby high school. He’s proved himself capable of independent living but lately has seemed very interested in what goes on inside.  

Tygger’s behavior of looking in our windows continued through the fall and the weather began to turn cool.  Nights became cold enough that the water we left out for him was frozen in the mornings. Other neighbors were also looking out for his welfare - being sure he was getting enough to eat.      

And then, shortly after the night he watched me through the window, MSL noticed he was hanging around our patio again.  She opened the back door of the house, and he walked right in.

Now, if you’re wondering about the wisdom of letting a somewhat-wild animal into our home, I hear you.  When MSL sent the text telling me what had happened, I held the same concerns.  I mean, a wild animal that suddenly feels confined can go berserk, causing damage and injury to people, pets, property and itself.  “There could be blood”, I thought, as I envisioned a terrified cat literally bouncing off the walls, upsetting potted plants, knocking lamps to the floor, shredding upholstery, destroying pottery, and clearing shelves of their contents in a desperate attempt to find a way back to the outdoor world. And that’s just if he’s frightened - what if he’s actually angry?    

Tygger has always seemed to be a sweet, gentle kitty, but let’s not forget that he can kill his own food.  He’s fully equipped with teeth, claws, speed, athleticism, and a small cat brain that may not fully understand that we mean him no harm.  He may not realize that our home is a safe place for him . . . and try to jump through a closed window.  He might also be bringing things into the house that we don’t want: parasites and viruses that can be transmitted to our other pets, so opening the door to him may not have been a good idea.  

Tygger did a quick tour of the house and when he discovered our other cats, found a place of solitude in our library, while MSL and I had the “well, now what?” conversation.  

The next morning we took him to our veterinarian to see if he already had an identification chip, and found none.  We had him checked for worms and fleas and diseases and he was remarkably clean for an outdoor animal.  We had him vaccinated, microchipped, and neutered, and with a clean bill of health, brought him back into the house.    

It has now been a month since he walked through the back door, and he has to be wondering if it was a mistake.  I admit that I wonder the same thing.  Tygger had been living the life he was born to live: outdoors, free, in a place where he could find adequate shelter, a ready supply of prey, and the charity of humans as a safety net.  He used to have a range limited only by his own ambition, and now he’s confined inside a modest-sized house, which he has to share with three other cats and two humans.  

He remains very shy.  He’s adopted the spare bedroom as his safe place and spends much of his time sleeping under the bed rather than out in the open as an indoor cat would.  He isolates himself when there are human noises in the house: voices, videos, and such.  One of our cats, Chester, is a bit of a bully, and Tygger is timid enough to avoid him.  

But we’ve had progress, too: understanding the litter box was no problem, and Tygger’s appetite is certainly good.  He roams the house freely in the overnight hours when we’re in bed.  Two of our other cats have accepted his presence, and he, theirs.  They aren’t snuggle-buddies yet but seem to tolerate each other well enough.   

He’s most comfortable under the cover of darkness. In the early morning hours, when I get out of bed, I keep most of the lights off.  While I sit quietly on the sofa reading the early news, Tygger will watch from across the room for a few minutes before cautiously crossing in front of me to look out the window.  Every minute or two he’ll glance my way to be sure I’m not doing anything threatening.   

MSL and I visit him in his bedroom with snacks, which he readily accepts, and when I offer my outstretched hand to him, he’ll sniff my fingers and allow me to rub his nose. In the most recent days, we’ve been able to pet him a little and he’s relaxed enough to have started playing with cat toys. He’s expanding his safe zone to include the other upstairs bedroom and when I spend time there, he’s comfortable enough to fall asleep in my presence.  

Assimilating Tygger into our household is not an overnight process and we’re prepared to be patient. He has been living alone and at large long enough that this is a big life change, and it will take time. There’s always the chance that it won’t work at all. Can you un-wild a cat, or should you even want to?

We’ve decided to keep him inside through the winter and hope he comes to realize that our home can be his home.  His gentle demeanor suggests to me that he’s capable of giving and receiving affection, and in that case, it would be a shame for him to continue to live a completely solitary life. Anyone who has had a special pet knows how rewarding and mutually beneficial that kind of companionship can be.  I’ve already become quite fond of him, but how attached should I get? How much should I emotionally invest in this animal?   

It would be wrong for us to think we’ve rescued Tygger. He wasn’t freezing, starving, sick or suffering in any visible way in his outside life.  A month ago, we gave him the opportunity to come inside, and he took it.  He probably came in out of curiosity, not desperation, and there’s no doubt he fully expected to be able to return to the outdoors.  Yet, as the season’s first snow and ice have fallen, and looking toward the deep cold of January and February, I’m happy he’s inside with us.  

I don’t really think of him as belonging to us yet, and ultimately the choice will be his.  When the weather turns warm again next spring, if he appears to be truly miserable looking out through the windows, rather than looking in, we may have to let him walk back out the door, and I can already tell that will be a difficult day.  

UPDATE 2 MONTHS LATER:

February 11, 2023. Tyg has made great progress assimilating into our household. He no longer isolates under beds. He sleeps in the open and occasionally snuggles with the other cats. He has become less timid and joins in when others are romping, and has decided that he’s not going to take any more crap from Chester. He is first in line for morning treats, and rubs against my ankles when he wants food. He is receptive to petting and head scratching and most nights sleeps on our bed with us. I’m still wondering if we’ll be able to keep him inside this summer. I think he understands that this is now home, and I’d bet he would return when we let him outside.

ANOTHER UPDATE 8 MONTHS LATER

Tyg has fully integrated himself into our household and our hearts. Surprisingly, he has shown no interest in returning to his outdoor life. He still has a few wild mannerisms and doesn’t know when enough is enough when playing rough, but he has a sweet heart and sleeps in our bed every night. He pokes me with his paws around 5 each morning and enjoys tummy rubs and chasing strings. I guess we can say he’s ours, now. (as if there was ever any question)

ONE YEAR LATER - fully at home