Tiger, my cat, is the real definition of a scaredy cat and honestly, it’s starting to get a little upsetting. Today, I decided to take her along while I went to get a few groceries. A friend had offered to give me a ride on his motorbike and I thought it was just the perfect quick trip and an adventure she would enjoy. The fresh air would be a plus, you know.
I should’ve known better.
I got her ready, and held her in my arms like the fragile princess she is, and stepped outside. The moment my friend rode into the compound, his bike making that familiar roaring sound, Tiger immediately transformed into a feral spirit on a mission. Before I could even tell her it’s okay, she dug her claws into my arm, leapt down and sprinted straight back into the house. The funny part is she didn’t just run to hide and peek from a corner, she vanished for close to an hour.
And the thing is, this isn’t the first time. Any loud engine of a car, truck or motorbike instantly turns her into Usain Bolt. Even if I’m holding her firmly, she fights to get down, clawing me like I’m the enemy. I’ve sustained enough tiny injuries to start my own diary titled The Battle Scars of Being a Cat Mom.
But the part that gets me is that I’m only trying to make her feel safe. I hold her because I think my warmth and closeness will calm her. But nope, what she wants is to escape into the shadows and silence. I guess she feels safer hiding than she ever will be wrapped in my arms.
Her behavior makes me wonder how other people do it. How do they talk to their cats? How do they take them on rides? How do they get them to stay calm around loud noises without becoming a small, furry hurricane?
I guess I have to live with the fact that Tiger isn’t meant to be an adventure cat. She’s prolly just meant to be my indoor, dramatic, noise-hating princess. But I won’t lie, I still wish she’d let me take her out without acting like we’re under attack.