Purring through the pain

A toothless fluff piece about cats and communication

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Cats are notoriously stoic about pain. They can go weeks, or even months, with serious health problems, showing no sign of distress. Apparently, in the wild, this is to their evolutionary advantage. In the unforgiving outdoors, outward signs of pain indicate weakness — and a weak animal is easy prey.

Of course, this is hardly relevant to the housecat, whose meals arrive at regular intervals and who rarely encounters anything more threatening than the roar of the vacuum cleaner. But try telling that to them.

Bo (M), ~8 years old, cardboard box aficionado.

Bean (F), ~3 years old, destroyer of mechanical mice.

Bo, our older cat, narrowly survived a urinary tract blockage in August. The day we rushed him to the vet, he had been purring, rolling over for belly rubs, and meowing at my husband and I for more treats — in other words, being his typical self. Bean, the latest addition to our home and a halfway socialized feral cat, recently returned from a dental appointment which unexpectedly involved the vet removing all of her teeth. Apparently, Bean’s years spent living on the mean streets, before we adopted her, had taken their toll: Her teeth and gums were so damaged and decayed that this drastic measure was the best option for alleviating the pain she has likely been enduring daily.

Again, my husband and I had no idea the issue was so serious. In the six months we’ve had Bean, she’s always seemed like a happy — though shy — cat. We knew her teeth weren’t in great shape, but neither we nor the vet initially recognized the extent of the problem, or predicted that the result of the vet visit would be, well, this:

Toothless from “How to Train Your Dragon.” (In case you’re wondering, cats can live normal healthy lives with no teeth — we were relieved to learn! Bean hadn’t been using her teeth anyway because they were so damaged, and this hasn’t impeded her ability to eat or carry around her toys. So far, it hasn’t even changed her outward appearance.)

As I watch Bean bounce back from her surgery (and bounce back, she has), I’ve been thinking about how a cat’s ability to hide pain is a superpower that betrays an insecurity. They act normal even when they’re hurting out of some vague sense that their survival depends on appearing strong. This instinct, I do not possess — at least when it comes to physical pain.

I have no qualms about being knocked out flat by even a minor injury or cold. Acting pained, I’ve always found, is the one good thing about being in pain. A stomachache or sore throat presents an opportunity to retreat from the world under seven layers of blankets and binge-watch “90 Day Fiance.” It’s an added bonus when those around you, witnessing your distress, deliver food to your bedside until your health bar returns to full.

In these instances I could probably stand to be a little more stoic. But, in terms of human survival, it’s surely more adaptive to err on the side of making our feelings known to others when we’re not feeling well — especially when something is seriously, dangerously wrong. Despite the cruelties that our own kind inflict on one another regularly, most people seem to know that when the shit hits the fan, it doesn’t do to be too independent. We need to rely — and, fortunately, often can rely — on one another to help us weather the storm. And that’s a beautiful thing.

Cats, apparently, don’t feel as if they have that luxury. But that doesn’t mean humans can’t understand their needs at all. A cat’s independence is as inviting as it is alien: It beckons us to get curious, opening as many doors as it closes. If we’re willing to learn their language, to consider their perspective, we often can connect with these creatures who, like us, are tasked with navigating this wild world, though they see it from a different vantage point.

Two days after surgery Bean is up and about, watching birds from her window seat.

In my case, recognizing that Bo or Bean probably won’t directly let me know something’s wrong begs me to be more observant, to become more attuned to subtler shifts in their behavior. It also makes me more appreciative of the love and affection they initiate, knowing that these moments don’t necessarily indicate that all is well in their world, but that they find value in our relationship regardless. Not to mention, they trust me — at least insofar as their trust extends.

And sometimes it extends further than I imagine possible.

The evening we brought Bean back from the vet, rather than burrowing into a hiding spot to escape the person who subjected her to such an uncomfortable ordeal, she stumbled toward me and gave my hand a friendly head-butt. Fifteen minutes later, too tired to continue circling me for pets, she dropped to the floor and fell fast asleep, her tiny head resting on my foot. That may not sound like much, but it’s the last thing I expected. From a creature whose life has been brutal enough to ruin all her teeth, I found it especially touching.

Bean doesn’t know it yet, but her life will soon become much more comfortable. Whether she realizes I had anything to do with it hardly seems to matter.

Cool resources for kool kats

🐈‍⬛ Jackson Galaxy: During the process of introducing — then reintroducing — our two cats (of different histories, age, sex, and size) to each other in an effort to create a peaceful relationship between them, this YouTube channel was incredibly helpful. Even if you’re not trying to solve a specific problem, you’ll enjoy learning how cats think and communicate (and these videos are often just as relevant to human behavior as they are to cat behavior).

🐈‍⬛ Forgotten Cats: Every year, I receive a pamphlet from this organization in the mail. I always cry (and donate) after reading the stories of the abandoned or abused kitties who the volunteers at this organization help give a second chance at life. If you’re looking to adopt a cat, interested in Trap Neuter Return (a method to humanely limit the population of homeless cats), or just want to support a good cause, check it out.

Today’s question:

Are you a cat person? Why or why not?

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