My Furry Stress Busters - 2

One a hot July night our Masia disappeared.

In the morning I came down to discover the door screen on the deck pushed open and her – gone. At first we hoped, she would come back in the evening, but she did not. We were devastated. We printed fliers with her best picture and put one in every mail box in our neighborhood. In some houses people came out and asked us what happened. They gave us advices and shared their stories of similar kind. One lady said: “When a cat runs away, it ether shows up the same day or never.” And then she added: “There are coyotes in the area”.

I started crying.

We made an Internet research and learned about all the organizations in vicinity that gather stray cats. To one of them - the regional Animal Control - we would go twice a week, because they had new animals often. It was a 45 min. drive but also - our last hope. They had a long corridor stuffed with cages. We would pass through looking at cats even slightly resembling our Masia. Some of them were kittens meowing and leaning to the rods in hope of being taken out. Others were older, they showed us no interest and their faces said: “no one is rescuing me in this life”. We felt strongly for them and wished we could just take all of them.

One kitten in particular grabbed my attention. She was black as Masia and she raised the hell of noise when saw us. She was determined to attract our attention, and it worked. I could not take her out of my mind. When a week passed without Masia I told my husband that I wanted that little manipulator and he agreed.

It was a total delight from the first moment. As soon as she was taken from the cage and placed into my arms she started purring loudly. It was the happiest kitten on earth, perfect for adoption on all accounts, and I had a feeling she was totally aware of it. During the paperwork process it came up that, in fact, it was a “he”, not “she” and had a herpes-like feline virus but these details could not change anything: we were taking it home.

My husband suggested naming him Max. I liked it right away, because it reminded us of our darling Masia and was easy to pronounce for both our American and Russian friends.

From the very first moments Max impressed us with his relentless positive attitude, so very different from Masia’s. He would roam the house, following my husband and me in turn, sniffing everything with enthusiasm: “What have we here...and there?” He was eager to play, run and jump at slight invitation and purred like a tireless little engine.

 
He also appeared to be a very adventurous eater. He demanded to try each and every food he saw: a broccoli floret, scrambled egg with ketchup (had stolen it from my husband’s plate and immediately devoured), cottage cheese (licked from my spoon). Once he even tried to expropriate a plum from my hand and to run away with it, but was chased down and told that cats did not eat plums.


When in the evening we carried him to our bed he started circulating between us not knowing which of us to choose. He finally decided to go with me. “Ladies’ pleaser” said my husband not even trying to hide his jealousy.

The next night I noticed that Max was sick. He was lying near me hot as iron, his little head trembling against my neck. I was hugging him and planning vet appointment. In the early morning I had a dream. I heard rambling cats howling as they would in March in our native parts... Then I realized it was not March and we did not have homeless cats in the neighborhood. I woke up my husband and asked him to come down and find what was going on. In fact, I already knew what it was. Next, I heard my husband’s happy voice on the porch: “Masia dear, come, come my girl!”

I grabbed sickly Max and went down to greet her. She glanced at me with apparent displeasure: “Look at them! I only was absent for 9 days, and they already brought another one.” I gently put Max down on the floor to free my hands and pat her. She did not let me. I noticed though, that she looked strong and healthy, her eyes - clear and her fur - silkier and shinier than ever. Freedom definitely agreed with her.

Meanwhile, Max on his shaking little paws rounded up his back and with all his might demonstrated that he was big and afraid of no girls. And since that morning he stands his grounds as a dominant male figure, in spite the fact that he is almost a year younger than Masia.

That is how we ended up with two cats. Since outdoors proved being so beneficial for Masia, the ban on it was lifted for both of them. Now they freely enjoy it and in winter, when they prefer to stay inside, we have almost no fur around the house although they are both furry types (Masia is Angora-like and Max is apparent Persian). They are strong and agile.

Their relations were not the friendliest right away. It took years to teach them share things and us. Now we live in an almost perfect household, with two happy souls that amaze and delight us every day. They love my husband more (somehow, all children and pets end up this way), but I also get abundance of love and affection.

The positive impact Masia and Max provide on our physical and mental health is undeniable. I can only imagine all that serotonin and other good hormones they induce in our bodies by purring, stretching, playing or sleeping with no care in the world – i.e., by just being themselves. They also inspire us to move more while bending to pet one or kiss the other or when chasing the one coming from outside with dirty wet paws and prickly seedpods all over.

As I mentioned in the beginning there is scientific data supporting pet’s healing ability. According to recent study published in the Psychosomatic Medicine, loving touches — and the resulting gush of good feelings — can cut the level of stress hormones coursing through your body by 7 percent. Amazingly enough these benefits can even accumulate:

The 20th hug or kiss works just as well as the first; and 20 hugs generate 20 times as much stress relief, as a single snuggle.
http://lifestyle.msn.com/relationships/articlematch.aspx?cp-documentid=17858326>1=32003

So, how about a cat purr instead of an antidepressant?

And one thing more!

From our good friend and author of the “Green for Life” Victoria Boutenko we heard recently that having a cat in childhood could actually protect a person against allergies later in life. I started looking for the backing information on the Internet. At first I almost drowned in the flood of recommendations to avoid cats entirely.

And then I found the following:

Dr. Marty Becker, the "Good Morning America" veterinary contributor, said [that]… a new study on pet allergies found that using a new compound made from the allergy-producing protein in cat saliva might help end cat allergies -- almost like a cat-allergy vaccine.

He also said that new research found that being exposed to pets early in life often could lead to fewer allergies and instances of asthma in the long run.
http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/AllergyAndAsthmaResourceCenter/story?id=1728413&page=1


Next time I will write about our first impressions of America, my mother and "amazing chicken".

My Furry Stress Busters

I was born and raised in Russia and then came to US about 15 years ago. Anyone who made a move like this would agree that it puts you through a dramatic transformation on many levels. You change language, culture, things you do and what you eat. And not all the changes might be as beneficent as you have expected. The exposure to abundance of food, appeal of processed food, and comforts of individual transportation besides their apparent blessings brought questions and concerns. Since then I am on a permanent journey in search of a healthy life style that could be reasonable and joyful for my family and me.

As time goes by, I have learned something that helped me or mine and made a few observations that I would like to share. I have no intentions to give cook-book advices simply because I do not believe that the same thing works for everyone and every time. But how cool it could be to receive a feedback and maybe learn more!


It is a well known fact that pets in nursing homes and hospitals prolong lives and promote faster healing. Keeping this in mind, I decided to start this blog with a story that puts a smile on my face just as I am typing these words – about my two furry stress busters - my cats.


When my husband heard about the idea he said “Yes, go for it! I wish we had adopted them sooner – how many more happy hours and serotonin surges we missed!” So, here it is:


Our cats are Masia and Max, both black and furry but in a different way.

Masia sleeps at my side of the bed, almost every night and almost the whole night. When I hug her she tucks her forehead into the palm of my hand, her paws – around my wrist, and she purrs. It feels like therapy. Whatever cortisol or other bad stuff I have accumulated through the day, she diligently dissolves at night.

In other aspects she is my husband’s cat. When all three of our daughters, one after another, left us to start on their own, my husband announced that he wanted to adopt a cat. I was not enthusiastic about cleaning litter and fur all over the house. I also was concerned that it would be difficult for us to travel, leaving cat alone. But my husband was determined and eventually we went to the pet store.

Specialists recommend adopting a happy, sociable animal, with which you can easily establish a bond. My husband picked up a tiny black kitten that was shivering and tried to hide in the far corner of the cage. There she was stepped on and over by her 2 light and jolly brothers. Her behavior indicated exactly a cat not suitable for adoption. We had no competition.

Later my husband explained his counter-professional choice this way: “She was scared of everyone and nobody wanted her, so, I thought, she would love only me”. And eventually she did, but not right away.


In adoption papers there was a question “do you plan to let the cat outside”. I checked the “Yes” box, thinking it would be a good idea in our green and peaceful neighborhood. The shelter lady was very unhappy with this answer. “If you intend to do this, we will not give you the kitten”, she said and handed us a printout with long list of outdoor threats for cats. We said “OK”, and sincerely promised to never let her out.


We brought her home and opened the carrier in the middle of the kitchen. It was a mistake.

She ran for hide and first tried to do it behind the long lagged flower stand, then – in the coat closet. There she stayed for quite a while, then started whining drearily. We took her to the bedroom to show her a cozy cradle we had bought for her, but she did not like its smell and rushed under the bed. We placed all sorts of tempting things beside bed skirt: cat food, milk, litter box, but she was not interested. In the middle of the night she started crying again. We threw ourselves on the carpet at both sides of the bed, looking under it and trying to spot a little black knobble in the dark. We asked her in English and in Russian to come out. We promised to love her very much and that she would be all right. She was not convinced.

The very first thing she came out for was a bow made of paper towel on a blue shoe string. My husband spent hours near the bed encouraging her to show up. First, out came her paws, next - curious little face; then she dared to rush out and back and finally chased the bow in ecstasy. This bow, disheveled and dirty became her beloved toy, her guide around the house. Later she would come into our bedroom in the middle of the night with this blue shoestring in mouth, dragging the bow along, screaming “R-r-a-a-h, r-r-a-a-h!” that we interpreted as “let’s play” (“igrat” in Russian).

She became our darling, endlessly photographed by my husband, fed all-natural food, spoiled in every imaginable way. My daughter would have been shocked to know that Masia was allowed to freely walk on dinner table and countertops. She remembers me being a pretty strict mother in her childhood.

But all these excesses were not known outside our household. Besides me and my husband Masia trusted no one. As soon as she heard a stranger on the porch, she rushed to hide.


And then, in the middle of summer she disappeared. We were devastated but then things started happening in a totally unexpected way.