Hiss and Tell: True Stories from the Files of a Cat Shrink - Softcover

Johnson-Bennett, Pam

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0140298533 ISBN 13: 9780140298536

Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group, 2001

Synopsis

"Pam Johnson-Bennett is the queen of cat behavior!" -- Steve Dale, author of My Pet World

The author of Catwise, Think Like a Cat, and Cat vs. Cat, Johnson-Bennett sheds light on the communication breakdowns between cats and their humans. In this offbeat and illuminating book, feline behaviorist Pam Johnson-Bennett, takes you on the wildest house calls of her career. Meet Mambo, the cat who attacks his owner, but only on Sundays, and Bonsai, the cat whose dislike for the new boyfriend becomes very embarrassing. What secret does Freddie know about his owner's new wife? These stories--each of which unfolds like a mystery--will help owners better understand the ever fascinating cat psyche.

About this title

About the Author

Pam Johnson-Bennett is one of the most popular and sought-after cat behavior experts in the world. She has a private cat-consulting practice in Nashville, appears on Animal Planet UK and Canada, and lectures on cat behavior at veterinary and animal welfare conferences around the world. She's been featured on CNN, Fox News Channel, CBS, ABC, NBC, Fox & Friends, Animal Planet Radio, and many more shows. Print profiles include Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, Real Simple, Better Homes & Gardens, Woman's World, Newsweek, Prevention, USA Today, Family Circle, Complete Woman, Newsday, Chicago Tribune, USA Weekend, Washington Post, and Parade. She was VP of the International Association of Animal Behavior Consultants and founded the IAABC Cat Division. Pam served on the American Humane Association's Advisory Board on Animal Behavior and Training. She lives in Nashville, TN.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Excerpt

Tiki's Mysterious Mood

It was ten o'clock on Thursday night, and I had just gotten home from a late dayof client appointments. My head throbbed, and my empty stomach was grumbling. Iwas looking forward to taking a hot shower, grabbing a little snack, and thensettling into my comfortable bed.

    It was another half-hour of checking my phone messages and returning severalcalls before I finally made it to the shower. As is usually the case, thetelephone rang the moment I had a head full of lathered shampoo. Turning off thewater, I stuck my head out of the shower to listen to the message.

    "This is Margaret Taylor," a voice said urgently. "I've called everywhere. Idon't know what to do. The animal hospital gave me your number. Please call me.My cat attacked me. I've locked myself in the bedroom. Call me right away." Sheleft her phone number and again pleaded for me to call.

    I hurried out of the shower and over to the answering machine to jot downthe number. "No dinner tonight," I said to myself as I dialed the phone.

    "Hello?" said a frightened voice.

    "Hello, this is Pam Johnson-Bennett. Is this Margaret Taylor?" I could tellby her frantic tone that it was.

    "Oh, thank goodness you called. I don't know what to do. Tiki's out in thehall growling," she said under her breath, and then she began to cry. "Please,can you come over?"

    "First of all, are either you or the cat injured?"

    "He bit me pretty hard, but I'm okay," she answered, trying to pull herselftogether. "I just can't believe it. Why is he acting this way?"

    I asked Margaret Taylor to tell me exactly what happened.

    Tiki, her four-year-old Siamese cat, had just launched a seeminglyunprovoked attack on his owner. According to Mrs. Taylor, she was in the livingroom watching TV, when she heard a noise in the kitchen. Her husband was out oftown on business, so she went to investigate. When she turned on the light, shesaw Tiki crouched on the floor in the corner. The instant the cat saw her, helet out a screech and lunged at her, wrapping himself around her leg and bitinginto her calf. Mrs. Taylor screamed and had to forcibly pull Tiki off. He thenbolted out of the kitchen.

    Shaking and confused, Mrs. Taylor went to the bathroom to check her wounds.After cleaning one bite wound and several scratches, she looked around the housefor Tiki, but couldn't find him anywhere. She decided to phone her husband andtell him what had just happened. Deciding to use the bedroom phone so she couldsit on the bed, she stepped into the darkened room and flipped on the lightswitch. Again she heard that same screeching sound, and suddenly Tiki wascharging at her again. Mrs. Taylor managed to pull the cat off her a second timeand tossed him out into the hallway. After slamming the door, she ran to thephone to call her neighbor for help.

    There was no answer, so Mrs. Taylor called her veterinarian. The after-hoursrecorded message referred her to the local animal emergency hospital. The doctorshe then spoke to suggested she call me. By the time she called my number andheard my answering machine, she was in a panic, afraid there would be no oneavailable to help her.

    I told Mrs. Taylor I could be there in half an hour.

    "There's just one thing," she began. "I'm afraid to leave the bedroom, so Iwon't be able to open the front door. My bedroom is on the first floor, and I'dclimb out, but my house keys are in the front hall."

    Uh-oh.

    "Would you mind climbing in the bedroom window?"

    I arrived at the Taylor home twenty minutes after our phone conversation.Before leaving the car, I reached into the glove compartment for my flashlight.The outside of the house was very dark. I wondered if any of the neighbors couldsee this strange figure inching around the dark house. As I turned the corner, Isaw Mrs. Taylor's head peeking out the window. I walked closer and realizedthat, while she'd told me the truth about her bedroom being on the ground floor,she hadn't mentioned how high the window actually was.

    "Mrs. Taylor," I called up to her, "I don't think I can reach this windowwithout a ladder."

    "My garage is locked," she answered in a loud whisper. "My neighbor neverlocks hers, though. She's not home, but you can go over there. I'm sure she musthave a ladder." And she pointed to the house next door.

    "Why don't I just try one of your other neighbors?" I suggested. Somehow theidea of poking around in somebody's garage at night didn't appeal to me.

    "Are you crazy?" Mrs. Taylor shrieked. "Do you think I want all theneighbors knowing about this? Carol's the only one I trust!" Again she pointedto the house next door-only this time with noticeably less patience.

    So, off I went to search through one stranger's garage for a ladder so Icould climb into the window of another stranger's house. Not the way I normallyrun my business. But then, I don't exactly have a normal business.

    While I was unsuccessful in locating a ladder, I did find a stool. Withthat, I was able to hoist myself up (not a pretty sight) through the openwindow.

    Once inside, the first order of business was to check Mrs. Taylor'sinjuries. The wounds weren't deep, but I advised her to have a doctor check themin the morning, just to be on the safe side.

    "Mrs. Taylor, can you tell me what was going on right before the attack?"

    She insisted that nothing unusual had happened before the incident. "Theonly difference was that Tiki wasn't on my lap in the living room the way henormally is when I watch TV," she sighed. "He always sleeps on my lap, and hedid seem a little grumpy today."

    After getting a little more history on the cat, it was time to meet Tiki andinvestigate. I explained to Mrs. Taylor that something may have agitated himearlier in the day and that he was probably still very aroused when she startledhim in the kitchen.

    "But we've lived here all of Tiki's life. Nothing's changed," she explained,a look of total confusion on her face.

    "Something must have changed," I said while moving toward the bedroom door."Now, I need you to stay calm so I can go out and see Tiki. I'd prefer you tostay in here."

    "Are you going to try to capture him?" she asked.

    "No, he's too upset. I just want to check on him."

    Putting my hand on the doorknob, I turned and looked back at Mrs. Taylor.She was standing at the foot of her bed, chewing nervously on her nails. Inoticed a small TV in the room. "Mrs. Taylor," I said, "turn the TV on and tryto relax. You're safe in here." She nodded her head and obediently sat down infront of the TV.

    I quietly opened the door and looked out into the hall. First, I wanted torestore some normalcy to the atmosphere of the house because, right now, bothcat and owner were traumatized. Since Mrs. Taylor told me she watched TV everynight, I turned on the set in the living room to reestablish that familiar soundfor the cat.

    I casually walked around the house, hoping to spot Tiki. As I was about tostep into the hall, I caught a fleeting glimpse of black fur flying by into asmall bedroom. I walked back to Mrs. Taylor's room with a question.

    She jumped the moment I opened the door, then slowly sank back down onto thebed when she saw I didn't have her cat with me.

    "You did say Tiki is a Siamese, right?" I asked.

    "Oh, yes. Seal-point Siamese. Why?"

    "And you did tell me there are no other pets in the house?" I glanced backtoward the hall.

    "Just Tiki. Why are you asking this?"

    "I'll let you know in a minute," I said. "Just keep doing what you'redoing."

    I made my way back down the hall and toward the other bedroom. Tiki appearedat the far end of the hall, looking extremely tense. This was not the animal Ihad seen a minute ago.

    "Hi, Tiki," I said softly. "I think I know what has you so upset."

    Tiki's eyes followed me as I walked in, but he made no move to follow. Iclosed the door behind me. Kneeling by the bed, I lifted up the dust ruffle andsaw a tiny pair of eyes staring back at me. This answered one mystery. I atleast now knew what had set Tiki off. But where had this cat come from? And howcould Mrs. Taylor not have known there was a strange animal in her house? Iclosed the mystery cat in the bedroom and went back to Mrs. Taylor's room.

    "That's impossible," she stated after I informed her of my discovery. "Don'tyou think I'd notice another cat?"

    "Well, yes, I would think so," I answered, truly puzzled. "But the evidenceis sitting right under the bed in the next room."

    Mrs. Taylor assured me there was no way a cat could get in her house, but Itold her I was going to do a thorough check anyway. The cat must have gotten insomehow.

    After checking all the doors and windows, I came across a small open windowin the basement. That explained how the little visitor got in. Now, how did heget upstairs without detection?

    When I reported the open window to Mrs. Taylor, she put her hands up to herface and said she had been painting a wooden rocking chair in the basement theday before. She had opened the window for fresh air and must have forgotten toclose it again.

    "My husband will have a fit when he finds out," she groaned.

    I then asked her how the cat might have gotten upstairs. Did she leave thebasement door open when she was painting?

    "No," she said. "But the washer and dryer are downstairs. I always leave thedoor open when I do laundry so I can hear the buzzer on the dryer."

    "You're lucky Tiki didn't get out through that open window," I said.

    "Tiki never goes downstairs. He's afraid of the basement."

    I went out to my car (via the front door this time) and got a carrying casefor the black cat. As I walked down the front steps, my rumbling stomachreminded me of how hungry I was.

    Back in the house, I stuck my head in the bedroom to tell Mrs. Taylor what Iwas doing. She was still too frightened to leave the room. This suited me justfine, since her fear certainly wasn't making things any easier.

    Tiki was in the kitchen drinking from his water bowl. He looked morerelaxed. I think he knew the situation was now under control. I put the carryingcase down and walked toward the counter, talking to Tiki the whole time. I hadseen a bag of cat food earlier and decided to give Tiki a snack as adistraction. As I filled the bowl, Tiki watched me without moving.

    "You get an extra meal tonight," I said. Tiki waited until I was out of theroom and then walked over to the bowl. One indication that an agitated cat hasrelaxed is when he resumes some of his normal activities, such as eating.

    I approached the bedroom where the black cat was closed in and carefullyopened the door-just in case he was planning to make a mad dash. But the cat wasnowhere to be seen as I stepped in and quickly closed the door behind me. Iknelt down next to the bed and peeked underneath. He was peeking right back atme.

    "Are you hungry?" I asked as I pulled some of Tiki's cat food out of mypocket. I rolled a few pellets along the floor in the cat's direction. Quitehungry, the little visitor gobbled them up without hesitation. I rolled a fewmore pellets toward him. He then meowed softly, stretched, and walked out fromunder the bed. Before me sat a small black cat with beautiful green eyes. He wasskinny, rather scruffy-looking, and had a torn left ear from some long-agobattle. He let out another quiet meow, and I offered him more food. When he wasfinished, he trotted over to me and hopped onto my lap. Stroking his back, Ifelt just how thin and matted he was. I also noticed that he was a she. "Youlucked out, little girl," I said as I put her in the carrying case. "We'll findyou a good home."

    After depositing the carrying case in the front seat of my car, I walkedback into the house and phoned a rescue volunteer I knew. I wanted her to comefor the cat so I could work with Mrs. Taylor and Tiki. The volunteer said she'dget the cat from my car right away.

    With the mystery now solved, I opened the door of Mrs. Taylor's bedroom.

    "Let's go in the living room together and sit down," I said soothingly as Iguided Mrs. Taylor out of the room. "I'd also like you to casually talk to Tikiwhile you're in there."

    "Is he in there?" she asked, still worried.

    "No," I said. "But wherever he is, I want the comforting sound of your voiceto be available to him. He'll come out when he's ready."

    "What'll I say?"

    "Just talk to me about Tiki. Tell me about his good qualities. Talk aboutsome of the wonderful memories you have," I instructed, hoping that rememberingpleasant things would relax her. As a result, her voice would take on a moresoothing quality, and this would benefit Tiki.

    "Are you sure he won't attack me?" she asked, glancing toward the hall.

    I had watched Tiki move around the house and was reasonably certain thatMrs. Taylor was in no danger. However, I did instruct her to keep the door ofthe extra bedroom closed until she could do a thorough cleaning to remove thescent of the black cat.

    We discussed how the stray cat must have darted up the stairs, creatingquite a scare for Tiki, who was faced with a little intruder in his domain. Theattack on Mrs. Taylor occurred as a result of Tiki becoming startled when he wasalready in a highly agitated state. This behavior is known as redirectedaggression.

    We continued our conversation. I wanted Tiki to see that all was back tonormal. It took a while, but Mrs. Taylor began to relax and, at one point, sheeven laughed at the chain of events that had occurred. Stifling a giggle, sheinformed me that I did, by the way, look pretty silly climbing through herbedroom window. Little did I know that entering clients' homes by means otherthan the usual front door would be something I'd do many times in my career.

    Within a few minutes, Tiki sauntered into the living room and sat down afoot or two away from us. I told Mrs. Taylor to keep on talking; she was to letTiki be the one to make the first move. It didn't take long before he jumpedinto her lap, curled up, and fell asleep.

    Mrs. Taylor was given specific behavior-modification exercises to use withTiki for a while. I explained that, even though he seemed to be back to normal,Tiki might still display some behavioral changes as a result of his traumaticexperience. I wanted Mrs. Taylor to know exactly how to deal with Tiki, whateverhe might need. I also asked if he was up-to-date on his vaccinations (which hewas), since he'd had a close encounter with this visitor.

    "What will happen to that black cat?" Mrs. Taylor asked as she walked me tothe front door.

    "She'll be checked over and tested for FELV/FIV," I said. "Then we'll gether spayed and placed in a foster home until she's adopted."

    "Wait here," she said, then suddenly disappeared down the hall. A fewminutes later she reappeared. "Put this toward that cat's future." She held outa handful of twenty-dollar bills.

    When I got to my car, I looked at the money she'd given me. In addition tothe check for my services, she had donated two hundred dollars toward herone-time houseguest.

    As I started the car, I suddenly remembered that the stool was still sittingunder the window. I was worried that Mrs. Taylor might have forgotten about it,and I knew she wouldn't want to explain to anyone why the stool was there. So Iturned off the car, went around the back of the house, and returned the stool toher neighbor's garage.

    During the drive home, I phoned the volunteer to check on the black cat. Shereported that the cat was doing fine in the isolation room (a separate room foran incoming cat who hadn't been seen by the vet). The cat had eaten, used herlitter box, and stretched out on the chair for a nap. Good, I thought. Now I canfinally go home.

    My follow-up calls to Mrs. Taylor over the next few weeks provided the goodnews that Tiki was doing wonderfully. I am happy to say that he has neverdisplayed aggressive behavior since that night.

    The future for the black cat turned out to be very bright. She got a goodreport from the vet, received vaccinations, and was spayed soon after. We founda wonderful home for her, and she now lives with two other cats. Missy, as hernew family named her, turned out to be a beauty with a sleek, shiny coat tocomplement those gorgeous green eyes.

    By the way, Mrs. Taylor informed me that her husband has since installedscreens on the basement windows.

Copyright © 2001 Pam Johnson-Bennett. All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0-14-029853-3

Edition details

• Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
• Publication date: 2001
• ISBN 10: 0140298533
• ISBN 13: 9780140298536
• Binding: Paperback
• Language: English
• Number of pages: 176