Comfort

It has been almost nine months since Hobnob, one of our Indoor Supervisors, made her exit.  Bree remains as our lone Indoor Supervisor, keeping the humans in check when they are inside the farm house at the Genuine Faux Farm.

We thought, for a very brief period of time, that we might change the night-time rituals and let Bree have the "run of the house," be we backed off of that idea after experimenting.  It turns out that going to the kitchen for the night still offers comfort to our little black and white cat.  To break it is to sew concern and discord in the household.

Sometimes Bree will require "taxi service" from her human, and other times she will trot down the stairs and directly into the kitchen.  Every so often, she doesn't cooperate, but rarely enough to get us to consider changing things around.

To understand why this ritual is comforting, it might be useful to explain some of their transition to our home.

The farmhouse is large and we knew from past experience that it helps to introduce new cats to a smaller portion of the house so they can get used to that first.  The kitchen had doors we could close, access to food and water, a location for the litter box, and places we could sit to be with our new friends as they transitioned to a new world.

Hobnob and Bree were typical kittens in that they had tons of energy - bouncing around everywhere - until they didn't have energy anymore.  But, unlike some kittens we've dealt with in the past, these two wouldn't just go to sleep when they were tired.  We've watched some baby animals go from full-tilt to asleep in seconds.  Not these two.  

These tired kittens cried and would only calm down when we would pick them up and sit with them for a while.  My technique was to hold a sleepy kitten in one hand and gently and very slowly rub her back until she stopped crying.  Tammy and I tried very hard to take turns with who got which kitten in an effort to let them know that we were both "safe humans."

After a little while the bags under their eyes (just look at the picture) would become blinking, sleepy eyes.  Once they were quiet and showing signs of being moments from sleep, we would set them on the shelf that they had claimed as their spot.

Sometimes, they would be fully asleep and we would have to find a way to set them down as their heads rolled to the side.  But, usually, they were just very drowsy, soon to close their eyes the rest of the way.  There was something comforting to us when we saw them finally relaxing and being willing to trust that the world was "right enough" for them to catch a few zzzzs.

As I recalled this memory I wondered:  Is it better to be comforted or to offer comfort?

Perhaps the answer is that this is the wrong question.  There is no reason for us to worry about whether giving or receiving comfort is more valuable to us.  The real question is why we don't offer and accept comfort more often. 

Now you must excuse me, the Bree cat wants me to escort her to the kitchen for the night.  Oddly enough, I find that comforting.