Therapy Cat

 Genny, the Therapy Cat

There's been a spike in postings about therapy dogs on an attachment/developmental trauma listserv I'm on. Some people have had their already-living-in-the-home dogs unexpectedly turn out to be great therapy dogs; others have deliberately brought into their homes dogs that were in theory, supposed to be therapy dogs, with mixed results, I might add.

We unexpectedly ended up with a therapy cat. She arrived in our family in October, 2005 -- a kitten I found in a parking lot on West Genesee Street, hence her name: Genny. She's our West Genny Wildcat (mascot for our local school system). I had no intention of keeping her; we already had four cats and that was enough. I was going to find her family, or, failing that, find her a new home. Period. But I had to go away on business a day or two later, so left her home with Sean for five days. On about day four, I got a plaintive, "Do we have to give her away?" I relented. For reasons I didn't understand, but which eventually revealed themselves, I agreed to Cat #5.

Fast forward to February, 2010. We arrive home with T, who excitedly makes his way to be the first one in the door. I had read about preparing kids for dogs in the home; but didn't stop to think about our local greeting committee -- Genny. Of course she was right there to say hello after our 12 day absence. She's there to greet us after a 12 minute absence. So face to face came Genny the cat and T the little Ethiopian boy, who'd been trained to chase cats away. He screamed and ran at her. She ran away. But came back a little while later. He ran at her again. She ran away again. We tried to explain with a cavernous language gap that Genny is our friend and we don't chase her. We brought her to him and showed him how we pet her.

He still gave chase, but with less and less vigor, over the next couple of days. She never went into hiding -- just went away far enough to be out of danger, and kept trying to get close to him. Eventually she wore him down and he accepted her and started enjoying petting her.

We didn't realize the depth of the bond until T's rages began. He would rage and rage and rage, and while I had to stay out of range to avoid being hurt, Genny would move in to lie down next to him. In his angry at all life mood, he'd swing at her. She was always a step ahead though and would dash just out of range. A few minutes later, she would creep back in. Another swipe, another dodge. After a few bouts, he'd let her just sit next to him and begin to calm down. The reason for Cat #5 had revealed itself. Genny was destined to be T's therapy cat.

She follows him around to the point it annoys him at times. If meat is being served for dinner -- a rarity in this house -- we have to put her in time-out so the poor kid can eat in peace. He doesn't want her rolling all over the paper he's trying to color on, or rubbing her face on the markers he's using. She has a penchant for lying in the middle of any book he has on the floor to "read." She's a big girl, due to her Maine Coon heritage, so he can't pick her up and remove her -- we have to come to his rescue. But we always remind him that it's because she loves him so much.

To this day, if she hears him crying, she appears right next to him, meowing in distress at his distress. Meanwhile, she doesn't give a hoot if I cry. And while rages are much less frequent, they still happen, and when they do, she takes her place next to him, giving him a safe, calming presence at a time when my being there just makes matters worse. Unconditional love from a being who never judges and always forgives. How remarkable that our paths crossed in that parking lot on that chilly October morning.