Boundaries

It's been an interesting couple of weeks here. I haven't blogged about it all, just not in the mood to sit and write. I guess before I write, the processing needs to happen. Otherwise the occurrences come out sideways, heaped with the negativity and frustration that come with them. This blog isn't meant to be one huge vent, it is designed to be a lot of things.

Today's lesson in my life was inspired by my youngest cat, Phineas Icklebutt III. AKA "Ickle" in some circles, but "Phinny" to me. Phineas came to us through my SIL who has a great compassion for animals and was especially concerned about the growing feral colony at her apartment complex. She managed to capture three kittens and then proceeded to try to adopt/foster them out. We already had four cats at the time and my dear sweet husband said another cat would come into the house over his dead body.

After promises of awesome sex, no shopping and housecleaning he begrudgingly conceded to ONE kitten to FOSTER for a FEW WEEKS. To show my absolute resolve in the fostering process, I let G pick out the victim kitten so I would have no emotion in the selection of the ickle beast. Of course, G being the best kid ever, picks the Siamese that I had been eyeballing all along. I don't think M's connipition lasted very long.

The kitten came home and was subsequently dubbed "the ickle kitten" in lieu of a name, because if we gave him a name, he was then ours forever. "Ickle" would have to suffice.

As fate would have it, another long painful cat drama ensued and we ended up putting down our 2 year old black and white cat, Alaistair, who had a tough life. We nursed him back from the brink of death at the age of two weeks. Unfortunately, he had internal damage that a $1,000 surgery didn't fix. In the mean time, he was getting more and more aggressive towards the other cats, given the pain he was in. Nothing could be done about that pain, other than to end it. It was a heart-wrenching decision because I take being a cat mom very seriously. Just like motherhood, once you go there, you're committed.

So now we are down to four cats, which, I have to say is a nice number. Ickle was granted a stay as a permanent resident in our home and was given a real name, Phineas, which the boys rarely call him. He's still Ickle to them. Phinny is my new baby. He is also very distinctive from the other three, given his feral upbringing. I am learning you can't take the feral out of the cat. You just have to live with it and give off a lot of love in order to balance out the instilled fear.

I have many stories to tell about how my brood has impacted my life. I think this last incident with Phineas has given me much more to think about in the grand scale of my life.

A few days ago, Phineas and I were having a lovely moment on the couch together. He had come up when called (which is a rarity) and then proceeded to throw himself at me. "You must pet me, you must love me." I totally obliged him, after all, he so rarely asks.

I scratched fervently at his head, which he LOVES. I also stroked him from head to tail, which he isn't as crazy about. I know this, but I wanted to desensitize him a little. Let him know that touch all over can be as nice as head scratchy. He tolerated it until I patted his back, instead of using a long stroke. This clearly agitated him. I moved my hand back to my lap. In a flash he whipped around and grabbed my right ring finger in his mouth and gave me a warning squeeze. I wasn't about to fight him, I *had* irritated him after all and was going to let him tell me so. But whilst processing that thought, he looked at me and processed a thought of his own. "She's not taking me seriously." I suppose that's probably the thought behind the look I got, upon whence he chomped down on the finger in his mouth. CHOMPED and gave it the death shake to boot.

I screamed and smacked his face as hard as I could muster without causing serious injury. He sped away, not looking back. I had one large puncture wound on the top of my finger that I noticed immediately. I ran to the bathroom to wash it out immediately. The water caused searing pain and it was then I noticed the second puncture wound on the side of my finger. He'd gotten two fangs well into me. That little shit.

By now the dam had broken loose and I became hysterical. My hand hurt SO badly, although my feelings were hurt worse. WHY did he do this? I didn't hurt him or maliciously provoke him.... no! I was loving him. What is a pat versus a stroke?

Well, apparently, alot in his book. I had crossed a boundary and as stupid as a boundary I viewed it to be, it was his.

My hand swelled up like a sausage and turned bright red. Phineas disappeared. He didn't want to be found. His trust had been violated, as had mine. It put me a huge dilemma with a five year old boy in the house and a little baby girl on the way. What if this had been one of the kids? Then what? I can't keep a cat who I know to go for the jugular should his stupid boundaries be violated. No other cat I have had has been one to draw blood with or without thought.

As I treated my swelling hand, I had time to reflect on all this. I realized there were some valuable life's lessons in this incident:
1) You have no position in other's people's boundaries. We all create them for our own needs. They aren't meant to hurt anyone, just protect the self.
2) Some boundaries are stupid as viewed by the other party. Regardless of how you view the boundaries, you must respect them.
3) Love, Time and Trust can alter boundaries, but both parties must be in agreement with the changes.
4) Your boundaries are yours. People may mirror them in a relationship, but not necessarily. Sometimes parties aren't even quite aware where the boundaries are until one has been violated. Then communication is key to both parties can acknowledge where the boundary is and how to handle that in the future.

Of course, most of the above has its adjustments because I am dealing with a cat, not another person. Our lines of communication are much different. As the swelling of my hand has gone down, I have made it a point to speak lovingly to Phineas. He's finally starting to settle into his old routine and not be so skittish. These are baby steps that we both need.

I still think his boundaries are stupid. I will need more time to ponder that point.

Damn cat.
:-P
(Stubborn human...)