A Cat Named Thor
The Reciprocity of Kindness with Empathy
The Foster Cat
The Human drove to the cat center to pick up Thor, a tabby cat of around ten years in age. The door swung open as he entered the premises. On the floor was a small, old, inconsequential-looking crate. But inside of it was a cat. Ellie, a British woman who volunteered at the cat center, informed the Human that they got Thor from an animal shelter. The elderly cat was there for a long time but had not been adopted. If the cat center had not taken him, he might have been euthanized. She thanked him for taking care of the cat and giving him a safe place to stay until they could find a good owner for him.
The Human picked up the forest green crate by the handle and carried it to his car. On the way back, he noticed that Thor was quiet as a mouse. It was curious because all the cats he fostered before would loudly meow throughout the trip. They would strongly vocalize their dissatisfaction about travelling with someone who is a stranger to them, to someplace that they do not know. The Human would still try to reassure them; and do his best to make the drive as smooth and comfortable as possible.
The First Week
After arriving home, the Human set down the carrier on the floor and opened its stainless-steel gate. Thor did not move. He just stayed inside, though his big round eyes looked out. He laid on a terry cloth towel, his only material possession and comfort in the world. This was the first time the Human got a good look at the cat. He was gray with black tiger stripes and clean white mittens. He had a smudge of white on his nose which looked like the stroke of a brush, as if he were an artist who accidentally got wet paint on his face.
The Human went inside a different room so Thor could exit his little hutch on his own terms. After a couple of hours, he found that the tabby cat had not budged an inch. He wondered, “Who named you Thor? You are very timid and not Thor-like at all.”
The top cover was fastened to the bottom half with zip ties, so he gently tipped the old crate on its side to coax out the small tabby. Thor slinked out of the container like molasses and in short order proceeded to take sanctuary under a nearby couch. He will come out of hiding when he feels it is safe, thought the Human. So, he left a food dish, a water bowl and a litter box next to the couch.
Night passed. After fourteen hours, Thor was still under the couch. He didn’t come out even to eat, drink or use the litter box. Cats are known to take the path of least resistance. So, the Human decided it was time to intervene. He moved the couch and picked up the little, soft animal tucked to the back of the wall. For some reason, he did not try to run away. He uttered soft, little meows but thankfully decided not to resort to violence.
In the enclosure of the small bathroom, Thor and the Human sat together. It turned out that he just needed positive reinforcement. After an hour of reassuring him, Thor decided to nourish himself by eating some wet food and relieve himself by using the litter box. The Human let Thor out of the bathroom after.
It was a small, quiet place, ideal for a cat. He was free to roam as he pleased. Now that he felt he was safe, the little gray tabby was not afraid to make noise during the midnight hours. He seemed to be searching for something or someone.
The Second Week
As it turned out, Thor was a healthy eater who was thankfully not picky about his food. His regular meals consisted of wet food in yellow pouches. His favorites were salmon and tuna, but he also indulged in other varieties. He liked chicken pate on occasion but not all the time.
He ate around 9 ounces per day, consisting of 6 meals of 1.5 ounces (equivalent to three 3-ounce pouches). The Human gave him small portions, so his wet food would remain fresh. His favorite treats were freeze-dried chicken and lickable treats. And he had a penchant for human food like shredded chicken and pieces of ham.
He had access to dry food all the time, but Thor would only eat it if he got hungry. This was perfect because his primary source of nutrition must be healthy wet food. He also had clean water bowls around the clock, which were scattered about like little ponds. They were replaced once a day. He lapped the water occasionally, mostly when it was hot or if the Human was away.
Thankfully, he was easy unlike Buzz. Buzz was a female tabby who was put under a strict diet by the cat center. But she decided that it was simply not for her. They tried feeding her beef, chicken, duck, lamb, mackerel, salmon, shrimp, tuna, deer, mouse, rabbit, venison. They were in different forms like chunks, morsels, shreds, pate. However, she would only eat Temptations, which was like junk food for cats, and nothing else. Buzz did not cover her litter, as if to say, “Not my problem”. And the presumably convicted feline had the audacity to sharpen her murder weapons without breaking eye contact.
In contrast, Thor appreciated tidiness in his surroundings. He covered his litter and he called attention to clean it right away. He also had a funny habit of digging the floor after eating. It was his way of saying, “I’m done now. Take this away so we don’t attract any predators.”
The Following Weeks
Familiarity grows over time. Like Zen masters, cats also thrive in the three R’s: routine, ritual and rhythm. Thor had a friendly personality and calm disposition when he felt safe. He liked belly rubs and chin scratches. He liked being close to humans and tolerated getting picked up and carried. But he easily got scared by noises and strangers.
Thor’s playful side also started to emerge. He was fond of catnip kickers, lasers, wands and horizontal scratching boxes. One of his favorites was an electronic motion toy with a concealed, rotating wand. He had a polite sort of playfulness though, unlike Luna, a mischievous tuxedo cat who liked to knock off things from shelves and tables (and must be given an appetite stimulant by syringe). Luna, with her antics, was an antibiotic for the lonely and emotionally adrift. Her humans became accustomed to her being there all the time: She was there every time the cupboard was opened, every time the kitchen was entered, every time the car pulled up the driveway.
Though he still exhibited a youthful exuberance, Thor’s age showed in fine details. He didn’t jump on high surfaces or use vertical scratching posts. He favored his leg on one side due to arthritis, and one leg was shaved from what appeared was for intravenous therapy. Most of the time, he preferred to be on the ground, but he could jump on the bed, couch, low table or windowsill with a little effort.
He was not an aggressive or destructive cat at all. He didn’t scratch furniture or destroy indoor plants. In time, Thor’s confidence increased. He started to enjoy going on the patio in the afternoons to loaf there for a short while. Or sitting on the windowsill to watch the birds and squirrels.
Still, he was the opposite of Blaine, another tabby who belonged to the neighbor. Blaine was a very confident and intelligent cat. His owner was an older gentleman, and the cat would sometimes get locked out of his house. However, he always knew where it was. When the Human became his friend, Blaine would guide and nudge him to push his door open so he could get back inside his house, at dusk when it was time to go home. He would sometimes hop on the fence and sit there. Or stand outside the Human’s bedroom window. He tapped the glass knowing that if he did, he might get a treat. Sometimes, the Human would come home and see Blaine’s bell-shaped silhouette in the dark. He was sitting patiently out on the street. He thought to himself, “Blaine, did you get yourself locked out again?”
The Night Hours
Like most cats, Thor was nocturnal. He was like Kiwi, a sleek black cat who employed an organized routine and a regimented schedule. Every afternoon, Kiwi napped on top of a pile of freshly laundered clothes in a little box inside the closet of the guest bedroom. And at night, he curled beside his human on a warm, safe bed. Kiwi, in his peaceful rhythm, offered a quiet, unhurried companionship. And a safe for life’s secrets.
Thor adjusted to his new environment surprisingly fast. His favorite spot was a fluffy, warm cat bed under the Human’s bed. He reached out to Thor while he was hiding without any scratching or swiping. If called, Thor would come out of his hiding spot with an expression on his face that said, “Is it time for dinner yet?”
One night, the Human had a horrible nightmare. It seemed to go on without end. As he sank deeper into the pits of nightmare, he started to hear soft, little meows. When he came to, he found Thor sitting beside him in the dark. It was as if the small cat heard the commotion and proceeded to coax him out of his own terrors.
Attunement is being aware of, responsive to, and in harmony with another. An observant cat, Thor acted as a calming anchor. It turned out that the Human needed positive reinforcement as well, and that he was in a safe environment.
The human nervous system is wired for predictability and subtlety. In their still moments of shared silence, Thor proffered presence without pressure, comfort without judgment, and connection that didn’t demand constant output.
The Adoption
Several months later, the Human received the inevitable call from the cat center. Thor waited for a very long time, going back to his time at the animal shelter and where he was before that. But it was time to bring him in. Thor has finally been adopted.
The Human found it difficult to say goodbye to the cat. How could he communicate that this will be the last time they see each other? How could he articulate that he is a good cat and not to fear – he is going to his forever home, to spend the rest of his days? All he could do was think reassuring thoughts. This sad moment was temporary, impermanent, for everything will be well soon.
The Human gently ushered the cat inside the small carrier. He went inside his once little home silently and without complication. He wished he could pack everything for Thor, but he understood that the cat would eventually have his own things when he finally got to go home.
With a big sigh, the Human once more picked up the carrier and placed it in the passenger seat. As he was driving, something unexpected happened. To his surprise, Thor meowed loudly and repeatedly the whole car ride to the cat center. His meows were loud like tiny strikes of thunder. Thor lived up to his namesake at that moment.
It appeared that over the course of the last few months, he had regained his will and energy to express himself, even his displeasure. This was in sharp contrast to the car ride before when he had no fight left in him and seemingly gave up on life. The cat center didn’t know Thor’s history, but the Human surmised that the gray tabby has gone through his fair share of troubles.
Goodbye Before Hello
There was no available parking nearby, so the Human had to park several blocks away and carry the plastic crate all the way to the cat center. He didn’t know if it was because of the distance, or if Thor had gained some weight, but it seemed to him that it was much heavier than before. A big mess of road construction was happening outside the cat center. On the street was a worker jackhammering away. As he passed him, the Human apologized to the cat in his thoughts for the loud, scary noises in this unfamiliar place.
He entered the cat center, and Ellie was there to greet him. She opened the crate as they talked. Thor slipped out and crawled inside a small enclosure to hide away. All around were cats of different ages, breeds, colors and temperaments.
There was Clover, Oregano, Tabby and Callie scattered about. The cats didn’t ask humans to perform or test their loyalty, and they didn’t confuse intensity with intimacy. They simply settled into a space to co-exist with them, which was more than enough.
The Human wrote a letter which contained his experiences and foster notes about the cat – including Thor’s likes, dislikes, habits and peculiarities in the brief time they shared. He handed Ellie the letter to give to his new owner. As he drove back, he imagined Thor’s future life to be happy and safe, filled with the love and kindness he deserved, in a home with a fluffy bed, a patio and a windowsill to watch squirrels and birds.
Be Like a Cat
“When a cat falls out of a tree, it lets go of itself. The cat becomes completely relaxed, and lands lightly on the ground. But if a cat were about to fall out of a tree and suddenly makes up its mind that it didn’t want to fall, it would become tense and rigid. And would be just a bag of bones upon landing.
In the same way, it is the philosophy of the Tao that we are falling off a tree, at every moment of our lives. As a matter of fact, the moment we were born, we were kicked off a precipice and we are falling. And there is nothing that can stop it.
So instead of living in a state of chronic tension and clinging to all sorts of things that are falling with us because the whole world is impermanent, be like a cat.”
– Alan Watts, What is Tao?
