Performance Anxiety - Bonnie

I’ve been watching bits of the Olympics. (For whatever reason, I like the figure skating and snowboard cross.) It’s interesting to see how the stress of the spotlight affects different athletes. Some extremely talented people can choke, while others need the cheer of the crowd to reach their peak.

I think about this dynamic at the shelter. Not that a few people strolling around constitute that level of stress or the animals are jumping through hoops or anything. But they are pretty much on display, and there’s a new home to compete for, even better than a gold medal.

Cautious Bonnie, the pretty 7 year old Russian Blue I met last week, is a nice little cat, and I’m sure she’d make a good pet in a quiet household. She’s less scared than she was, and slinks out of hiding almost as soon as I sit down near her. She purrs, accepts some petting and bravely rubs along my leg and slithers across my lap. But people in the hall send her scurrying to the back of her condo, almost hidden in the shadow, her eyes dilated again.

Three young people want to meet Alexander, the charming 6 year old gray tabby just across the hall. He’s your basic friendly, affectionate and pretty cat, a good find for people without a lot of cat experience. But they’re just looking around, and after we sit with him for a few minutes, they thank me and leave.

I offer some words of encouragement to Bonnie, then go sit with another shy kitty. White Sox is a pretty long hair tabby with a bit of white on his chest and of course white feet. He hops down carefully and sniffs around, then lets me pet him. He hasn’t been eating well, and I encourage him to take a couple bites of food.

A young Australian couple pause outside the door and White Sox freezes, as if he’ll be invisible as long as he stays still. They’re interested in Milo, a gorgeous and outgoing Lynx tabby. But they’ve got three cats at home, while Milo’s probably better as an only cat. I’m not worried about this guy, though – he’s back at his window immediately, wowing everyone that walks past.

Towards the end of my shift an older couple want to check out Ranger Rick. He’s a lovely orange cream tabby, a feisty 9 year old who moves comfortably between us. He purrs as we pet him, and allows himself to be picked up and cuddled. The women tell me they want to adopt an older cat, and they like big friendly orange ones. I’m psyched for Rick, but they add that they’re really just beginning the process and they’re not ready to take anyone home just yet. Still, one in particular seems to bond awfully well with him. As for this kitty, he’s doing everything he needs to do to ensure himself a new home.