... AND HE TURNED PRETTY WELL.
If he could read, that is. Marvin remains stubbornly illiterate, though not silent. Oh no, everything but that. He was vocal before (I named him after Gaye not Lee for a reason) but ever since the move he's been a non-stop howling machine. For a while, he would regularly howl between 4:30 and 4:40 in the morning, before his regular 6am hour of howling power. Then he would keep it going throughout the day, before finishing off with an evening recital of demonic yowls and then a well-deserved dinner.
It made me cry. It frustrated Dan. It made me angry. And finally, it made me hopeless.
We tried the calming collar ($20.) Then we took him to the vet for shots and a hormone spray (nearly $300). There were more toys and a collar so he could go outside ($18). The the hormone diffuser ($60) and another collar because he hid his first one, as well as more toys to keep him entertained ($18.) Finally, a scratch box and a squeaky squirrel ($19.) Now he's going for blood work on Saturday ($money I don't have.)
And still, he howls.
We had to stop letting him outside because his favourite activity, according to several concerned neighbours, was to lounge in the middle of the road, letting cars come at him. My little death wish kitty.
On Friday, the noise was so bad that I held Marvin and cried. After nearly strangling him. I cried because I was frustrated and tired, because I wanted to seriously hurt an animal, and because I didn't know what else I could do, or at least afford.
Marvin watched me cry before letting out a truly horrendous yowl. I looked at him, anime eyes and all, and realized that I wanted to do nothing more than something I thought I would never, ever consider: surrender an animal.
Yes, I wanted to surrender this face.
I felt so guilty for considering it, but that didn't stop me from googling it. And of course I cried some more, for being the kind of person who would just give up. That guilt means Marvin is still here. Good for Marvin. But there's a bit of shame in knowing that I didn't want to do the right thing, so much that I didn't want to be the person who did the wrong one.
2 comments:
I can't imagine having to deal with that.
There could be something seriously off with his little kitty brain, and without investing thousands of dollars you may never discover what it is or how to fix it.
If I had an animal that potentially needed epic financial investments for his health, I would surrender him in the hopes that someone could provide that for him. It would be hard but I would console myself with the idea that surrendering him would at least give him a chance.
I know it doesn't seem life threatening, but something is obviously seriously amiss and it seems like you've done as much as you can for him. I couldn't live with what you're describing. You are not a bad person for having hit your breaking point.
I feel for you that you're in this position. That completely sucks. Hugs.
unsolicited advice: my friend had a cat that howled (albeit not nearly as much as Marvin) and she resorted to running his head under the tap for a couple of seconds to get him to stop).
Hey Laura - thanks for making me feel somewhat less guilty! I'm still trying to work with him, but if he seems like he's only more and more miserable, I will try and find him a happier living situation.
Also: the mental image of your friend giving her cat a quick shower made me chuckle. We used to spray him with a water bottle, but he was apparently of the "any attention is good attention" school, so we had to stop since it had become a game with him.
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