You can teach an old dog new tricks!

My mom keeps reminding me to buy her one of those cat scratch pads or posts.  Somehow I just keep forgetting every time I am out doing any shopping.  Probably because my head is full of other stuff and the needs of this fuzzy friend just rank one notch below the available "Post-It" space in my brain.  A bit over two years ago one of my son's was walking back from school when this little ball of joy that could not weigh more than a pound followed him home.  We spent several afternoons unsuccessfully canvasing the neighborhood, knocking on doors, hoping that we could find the original home and owners to the almost instantly named "Seaham" kitty.  You know you are in trouble once your kids name the creature.  It is almost like the first step in an emotional adoption process.  I myself am totally a dog person, so as adorable as it might as seemed at the moment, all I could think of was finding the animal it's real owners.  Eventually we gave up after in more than one occasion somebody told us that they thought the little thing was left behind by a individual that had lost their home to a foreclosure.  All I could think of at the moment was "I hope this cat is not as much trouble as the one I had for a short while in college!"  Her name was Baby Jane, and she was more than a handful!

Immediately I scheduled the earliest appointment to have her spayed, which was at least four months down the road.  The procedure could not have been more timely, since just a few weeks prior, our back yard had already become the main center of attraction for some very scary big fat black cat that had it in his mind to become a daddy if our adorable Seaham would let him.  You could almost see it in her tiny little face how scared she was of the impending prospect of the bad kitty mounting her!  I bought her a litter box and tried to keep her indoors as much as possible until the date of her operation, which soon turned several sections of my almost new home carpet into a scratch pad, hence my mother's advice to buy the creature the cat version to keep her from doing more damage.  It always amazes me how much can go wrong in such a short amount of time when you are caring for kitties and puppies.  I have seen these little troublemakers eat shoes, remote controls, couches, cabinets, and even outdoor sprinkler systems in a backyard.  There is no end to how much chaos they can cause when left to their own supervision.

I have been pleasantly surprised with how much my two sons have bonded with Seaham.  Interestingly, soon after she became a part of our household, the boys nicknamed her Sam, which in my opinion, shorter is better when naming pets.  In the last two years she has become what I call "a very grateful cat."  She never hisses at any of us, spends most of her day in the backyard chasing bugs, lizards, mice, and the occasional bird, which she typically brings some body part to us as gifts of appreciation for our attention and caring of her.  She'll drop to the floor on her side instantly if she thinks that we are going to pet her, exposing her furry belly and allowing us to scratch her as if she was a dog.  I had never experienced this kind of behavior with a cat, then again, I only had a cat for a few months before her.  Still, the scratching on stuff can be very annoying, so every time she starts I usually yell "no!" and take her outside.  Interestingly, she has taken to understand that if she scratches on something that I will then open the door.  So now days, all she does when she wants to go outside is make the gesture that she is about to start scratching on our recliner in the family room and then immediately she looks towards the door expecting one of us to open it for her.  In other words, the cat has trained "us" to know what to do when she wants out!

Sam is now 90% an outdoor cat.  As soon as she sees me doing any dishes in the morning through the window just above the kitchen sink, she then rushes to the sliding door just a few feet away expecting her well trained grandpa to open the door so she can come in and eat her food.  A few minutes later she'll just lift her paw against the corner of the family room recliner and look at the sliding door again, expecting the old man to once again let her out.  This process is basically a daily ritual which in her mind probably keeps me trained to know how to take good care of her.  In return she will occasionally bring me the severed head of a bird or reptile and leave it in front of the door to reward me for my good behavior.  I can almost hear what she is thinking..."good boy...good boy!"  What can I say other than you can teach an old dog new tricks!

Dad