BONDING BLUNDER

I tend to be introspective. I can't help it. I'm a therapist. So, as I go through the blog, I make sure that what I put down is the best information I have. I also make sure I follow my own advice.
We've been talking about bonding. I ran over my current animals in my head. I know I have made mistakes in the past. There is no going back-just learning from my mistakes. But I want to be sure that if there is something I can fix or improve, I'm right on it.
As I rolled this over in my mind, I caught a glimpse of something on my bedroom floor. It was one of those toys that kittens love to chase when their person flicks it around. The string was dirty and knotted. The feathers on the ball were pretty shabby. It laid there limp and still. Then I glanced over to my little Roscoe, my 2 year old black kitten. Well, he will always be a kitten to me. He was watching me with silent eyes from his spot on the bed. Paws curled up underneath him, but wide awake. Watching, waiting.

Roscoe is a timid little guy. My daughter calls him "the Ninja cat" because when you think you see him, he vanishes. Shy and reserved. Not pushy. He never asserts himself like our beloved Bubba, the striped cat that has chosen my husband for his person. He gets what he wants because he pushes himself on you until you respond. Not Roscoe. He waits.
Roscoe has clearly chosen me as his person. But when I got him, about 2 years ago, I had just lost Buster. That loss left a huge hole in my heart. I tried to get another cat that was NOTHING like Buster. Buster was HUGE and fluffy. Roscoe is small and short-haired. Buster was white and gray, Roscoe is solid black. I didn't want to look for Buster every time I looked at my new family member. What I didn't realize is that I still look for Buster, even to this day. It is just going to be that way. Poor Roscoe suffered from this. I played with him constantly. He was bouncy and fun. He chased anything that moved. For the first months, maybe the first year, we played and played. We didn't have any quiet times together. No petting and bonding, just playing.
It turns out that the only times we were "together," we played. He was not pushy, so he didn't get the bonding he needed. Bonding that probably would have given him the confidence to hang out with the family more than he does.

I was horrified to think of this travesty that was my fault. As I looked at his favorite toy and his copper eyes silently watching me, I wondered if it were too late. I picked up the handle of the toy and began to wiggle the long string attached to the ball and feathers. He pounced so quickly, it startled me. We played for several minutes and then he settled down for another cat nap. I petted and talked in a whisper to him. He purred loudly and rubbed his face on my hand (a cat's way of showing glee). Then he placed his little out-stretched paw on my non-petting hand. I think we were making a pact. More playing, more petting, more quiet talking and more family time. It's never too late.