21 December 2017
A while back--I think 2 or 3 years ago--he spun his collar around so often that it rubbed the fur off in a neat circle around his neck. We took it off to let the fur grow back...which freaking took forever. There's still a bare spot or two.
He's strictly an inside kitty, and has always had a big enough fear of the outdoors that we weren't especially worried about him being without identification. When presented with an open door, he'd look and then turn around and walk away, because outside is big and noisy, and inside is not.
But he's getting old, and a bit forgetful. And one of the things he seems to have forgotten is that outside is Bad. Now when presented with an open door, he sits there and sniffs, and has a look of "That seems interesting" and he doesn't turn away.
We've always been careful, whether it was Max or Buddah at the door. Buddah has kept his collar, with the tag that has his name and address and phone, because who knows what he'll do.
But today Max sat at the back door a bit longer than I was comfortable with, and all the What Ifs ran through my mind.
I put the collar on him.
He didn't fight it; I showed it to him and let him sniff it, hoping he'd remember the smell of it and have the thought that it was not a horrible thing, and he let me put it on. But he was not happy when he realized what I'd done. And for the next ten minutes he followed me around, reminding me that he was the good kitty, and he didn't need one. And I'm pretty sure he called me a bitch.
Now, we went out for steak on Monday night--early Christmas with the Boy and his Much Better Half--and he's had steak treats every day since then. But tonight fresh steak was grilled, and I promised him he would get a big portion, because he really was being a good sport about it.
He sat on the floor between us during dinner (no, we do not give them food from our plates unless no one else is looking) and as soon as we were done, I shredded 1/4 of my steak, and gave him most of it. It was perfect bite sized and still warm, his favorite way to have steak.
I think he's mostly forgiven me. Mostly. I'm pretty sure that later on he'll sit in front of me and remind me there's still some steak in the fridge, and if I don't jump up, he'll hike his back leg and scratch at his neck.
And dammit, that will work.