Training a cat to enjoy a massage
Phantom accepts a good brush but is still reluctant to become a lap cat
IT’S HARD to believe that Phantom has been with us for more than a year.
Yet I think I still don’t really understand this elderly, seven-kilo American shorthair cat. For one thing, I don’t know how his previous owner took care of him.
I’m not sure, but I suspect that she never groomed him. When he first arrived, he didn’t know what a brush was. When I tried to brush the top of his head, he tensed up and tried to run away.
This cat really needed a good brushing, though. Even with one or two swipes, the brush was full of long, thick hair. This was dead hair, and it was so abundant that he couldn’t have removed it himself without becoming really sick.
In addition, his eyes looked inflamed, so painful that he couldn’t open them at times.
It took days before he accepted the brush. Even so, he would only let me brush his head and neck. When I tried to brush along his body, he would hit me gently and run away.
Gradually, that dead hair disappeared, as well as the inflammation in his eyes. Also gradually, he began to let me brush under his chin. It took much longer for him to let me brush the rest of his body.
His tummy was forbidden territory for months, and then, one day, while I was brushing his head, he rolled on his side, allowing me to brush his stomach.
A few months later, he even let me brush his tail.
The brushing has become essential. Phantom sheds a lot, and the brushing helps.
I decided to take Phantom to another level. It was time, I thought, to make him into a lap cat.
Unlike my other cats, though, Phantom doesn’t like to be hugged. He’s not even happy about being picked up. I suppose his previous owner never tried, or maybe she was too busy to take the time when he was young.
For me, this lap-time is important, and not only for cats. Here is the opportunity for you to run your hands gently up and down your cat or dog, checking for lumps, bumps and any injuries.
Starting with the top of the head, you scratch ears, checking inside for dirt or injuries, then move slowly to the shoulders, massaging gently down the back.
My tiny poodle Wan-Wan loves the next part, when I roll her on her back and give her tummy a rub. Some of the cats won’t let me roll them over, but they will stand up so that I can reach under for a rub.
In this way, I found a skin infection on Wan. It had been hidden under her fur. My eyes couldn’t have seen it, but my hands felt it. My hands also found some bumps on one-eyed Angel’s spine, nothing to worry about, just the result of old age, my vet tells me.
Because Phantom, at 17 years old, is the same age as Angel, I really want to give him a daily massage. Finally, one night, when he looks completely relaxed, I lean over and pick him up.
On my lap, he tenses immediately and tries to get down. I help him to the floor. The next night, I try again. This time, he jumps down himself. Then he turns and hisses at me. He walks away, but not far. He’s not angry, just confused.
I leave him so that he can calm down, but an hour later, he calls me urgently, a meow that tells me something is wrong. Of course, there is. Phantom is waiting for me by the chair. Why did I forget his evening brush?
That plan for a daily massage will take much longer than I expected, if he ever learns to enjoy it.
