Is Your Cat Depressed?

Is your cat depressed?

• Is it listless?
• Is it angry?
• Has it stopped grooming itself?
• Is it non-sociable?

If yes is the answer to any of these questions, your cat probably is depressed.

Let me tell you how my cat became depressed and how I helped her.

One happy family:

My husband, on spying Ruby in a pet store, called me to see if we could agree on bringing her home. I agreed, we both adore cats.

So my husband brought this little handful of fir home, screaming at the top of her lungs, from inside a box with a hole in it. I admit it, we spoiled her. Everything she wanted was hers, nothing was too good for our little Ruby.

Of course we spoiled our other cat, Pearl too and our Queensland dog, Olivia.

I can't say Pearl ever really appreciated the little spitfire we brought home, but other than that, she put up with her. Olivia managed to live with Ruby also, even though as a kitten, Ruby would hang on to her snout and dangle in mid air. I think Olivia was mildly irritated that Ruby thought of her as a big sister cat, not seeming to notice that she looked like a dog. Olivia didn't really want her face and ears groomed, we could tell, but she put up with this too.

Now our "prima dona" Ruby, was about to have her whole life turned upside down, and would be catapulted into major depression by two little scraggly alley cats (that’s not the way we thought of them, those were her thoughts after they came). She was two years old by this time.

Visiting a friend:

I was over at a friends house one day and could hear kittens crying from somewhere. I could tell they were babies, and I could tell more than one was crying. I asked about it. My friend said her husband had rescued two little alley cats. She led me to her laundry room, and there were two adorable four inch kittens, barely able to toddle on their stubby little legs, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Permission:

One was an orange-colored kitten and one was cream-colored. Eying the orange kitten, I asked her if she needed to find homes for them. She answered yes, and I was on my mobile to my husband on the instant. He had always wanted an orange cat. He could barely hear me over the screaming little kitten, but finally got it, giving me permission to bring it home.

I felt terrible leaving the other one. I had asked what she was feeding them, because their cries sounded like they were hungry. Now - their little bellies were bulging, so I didn’t think they were not being fed, but didn’t understand why they were in distress. She told me she was feeding them just plain milk. Even I know you can’t feed little nursing-age kittens plain milk. I told her in a very polite way, that she should be feeding them kitten formula that can be bought just about anywhere.

Intruder:

I stopped on the way home and picked up kitten formula and a kitten bottle. When I arrived home, I fixed the little starving kitten - because he was starving inspire of his distended belly – some formula. He drank the whole bottle and promptly snuggled down in the box we had fixed for him.

Ruby came sniffing up to the box and looked down on the sleeping little kitten like a disgruntled owl, staring at the horrible thing that had ended up in her house. Our Olivia helped clean the kitten, that was her job, and she loved it. We didn’t force Ruby to do any socialization, we let her be. We thought she would be ok.

While my husband and I were looking down at the new kitten, I said, “I just wish I hadn’t left the other one, I know it is starving.” My husband and I looked at each other and decided to get the other one. So I went back to my friends house.

Another intruder:

We settled down nicely (we thought) with two orphaned kittens and our other two cats and Olivia. We named the orange male kitten, Dugal and the cream female kitten, Florrie (British telly show about Dugal and Florrie).

The two new kittens seemed to take all of our time, even though Olivia helped. We would lye on the floor looking at and holding them for quite some time after feedings and cleaning up. We had to teach them how to go poop (Olivia turned her nose up at this). Sans mommy cat with a rough tongue to initiate this process, we used a damp cloth, and it seemed as if we were always cleaning up formula which somehow ended up all over their little faces.

Trouble brewing:

Needless to say, Ruby did not appreciate having her attention taken away.

Too late, after feedings three and four times a day, and lots of cleaning up, we realized Ruby was sleeping way too much, besides which, when she was near us, she would turn her back. She went from a vibrant, playful cat, to a melancholy, listless, sometimes angry cat.

I was under the impression that cats would get along no matter what "Just wait two weeks, they'll be just fine" is what I was told. Two weeks later, then a month and another month…she was no better. I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Lots of attention later

I started petting Ruby a lot. I would chase her through the house, chortling her name as I went. Sometimes I would pick her up in my arms and arch her towards the bed counting to three, and then throw her on the bed. She loved this. I would run back into the living room, with her hot on my trail. We would repeat this until she had had enough. This has helped her quite a bit. She is not like she was, but better. Now on a regular basis I coo to her when I go by her and take time to pet her.

Often now, she will come - when she feels like it – and hop onto my lap to be petted.

Happy pets

The pets are happier now. They all get their attention and their needs filled. They are safe, happy and loved. What more could a pet want?