I think my beloved cat Sabina may slowly be going insane. And it's all my fault.
I've mentioned her before -- a petite Domestic Shorthair (veterinarian speak for "cat mutt"), I adopted her at just two months old from the local Humane Society. Here we are, coming up now on 13 years later, my most stable and longest-lasting relationship (in person).
And during all these years, "Bina," has been an inside cat. I'm not really into the whole outside cat thing for various reasons. For one, an outside cat kills copious amounts of prey, and apparently it has been becoming a problem in various communities across the nation since various bird populations are thinning or dying out. Secondly, I just don't like the danger of it. Have you ever seen an outdoor cat that didn't bear its own Lord of the Flies scars? A chewed ear, blind eye, missing fang? Thirdly, I usually live in apartments anyway, and it's just not practical (especially now being on the third floor). And finally, pure selfishness. An outside cat is the epitome of independence. They seem to have that "fuck you, I don't need you" attitude, some of them only showing up for some easy Friskies from a bowl on the back porch. I like the forced socialization of the inside cat -- you become fast friends. You cuddle each other and have a real relationship.
Ever since she was that two month old kitten, Bina has shown a real distaste of anything smacking of "out there." To this day, if she is in your arms and you near a door or open window, she immediately begins to twitch which rapidly evolves into a violent fit accompanied by a very loud, as Beau would say, "squall." On rare occasions, usually only when I am actually moving from one residence to the next, Bina will have to suffer a car ride, something that gives her an enormous amount of initial stress. With luck, she will settle down, but after entering her new home will spend a fretful few hours to days contemplating all the hateful changes. And don't even get me started on the unimaginable (in her mind) suffering she has endured on her few plane rides. When I took her with me to Thailand, I truly feared she might die. She didn't.
So, in the past year, Bina has endured five very long road trips (NYC to Milwaukee, Milwaukee to Missouri, Auckland, New Zealand to Te Kaha, (New Zealand), Te Kaha back to Auckland, and just recently Milwaukee to Montana). Worst of all, she was flown from Missouri to Los Angeles, had one day of rest in a hotel, then flew from Los Angeles to Auckland, promptly put into quarantine (where she remained for one month), and then several months later, flown BACK from Auckland to Los Angeles and then Los Angeles to Milwaukee (where the Milwaukee to Montana road trip commenced two weeks later).
Phew! Poor kitty. You can imagine the stress.
And so, here we have been in our Montana residence for a good 6-7 weeks. I was hoping by now she would be feeling her environment was stable and safe. No such luck.
Starting back in New Zealand, Bina began...licking herself. Sure, all cats are lickers, they're clean! That's something we all like about cats. But Bina took her licking to a whole new, tenacious level. Now, she LICKS herself! Arms, legs, tummy, genitals, you name it! And back in New Zealand toward the end of our stay, patches started to appear. At first we weren't sure what they were, but soon figured out they were bare patches of skin where she had licked the hair all away. They were just small patches, nothing big.
But now here we are back in America, she's endured all her instability and travel, and has acquired quite a few more patches. She's licking herself so much she will occasionally barf up a soddy mess of hair puke. Lucki
ly, it matches almost exactly our brownish-speckled carpet (oh god, the HUGE pet deposit we paid!), but it's disturbing, nonetheless.
And now, every time I see her dive into her body for another intense licking session - you can actually HEAR her slurping away - I start scolding and yelling at her, waving my arms at her to stop. Of course, it's confusing to her, but I have no idea what to do. I suggested wiping a little cayenne peppered-water over her fur, but Beau finds that unusually cruel *cough*
I know, I should take her to the vet, though what s/he would do is beyond me. Kitty Psychologist anyone? The problem is, Beau and I are in SERIOUS trouble about making our rent in a few days and the idea of taking Bina to the vet is sadly out of the question right now. Shameful, but true.
Otherwise, Bina is in good health,
seems happy and healthy. She cuddles with us and purrs a lot. She has a good appetite, and plays frequently with Beau in their crazy games.
And in the end, I know... *I* did this to my poor cat. I gave her so much stress over the past year that she's turned into a neurotic mess! Beau and I are feeling so much stress ourselves from our failing job searches and money issues that it's hard to blame the cat, and yet I want her to STOP! Poor kitty.
Don't suppose you have any suggestions before Sabina turns into Mr. Wiggles?
4 different cat companions at one time or another. You've survived fleas from a dog, a cold from a cat, and impressively, the "black parasite" of Thailand which killed the two kittens with you. *sniff*
me to find. In New York City, you destroyed the arm of Steve's couch. And in Montana, you seem to have resigned yourself to stalking and killing my black socks. Well, that's better than the habit in your younger years of knocking over trash cans and sticking your head into "empty" containers of yogurt.
