Scratch That Adoption Process!

In college, I tend to go to a cat cafe when I’m anxious or to celebrate after a stressful period. The cat cafe partners with a shelter, so the cats in the cafe tend to rotate as they get adopted or new cats come in.

There is one new cat who is named Martha. Martha is older (five years old), missing her right ear entirely, and skittish. I am permitted to greet her, but afterward, she leaves when I try to pet her, so I let her be.

I sit down on a couch and get monopolized by a cuddly kitten. Immediately, I notice that a boy keeps “chasing” cats around the room (following them even when they get up and walk away from him), putting cat toys on their heads while they’re sleeping, and ignoring when the cats’ ears pull back — basically, ignoring the polite cat-speak for “I’m good, thanks.”

His mom doesn’t do anything and is talking to her daughter about which one they should think of adopting.

At this point, the boy starts following Martha around and actually corners her on an armchair where she has no escape.

I speak up at this point.

Me: “She’s a little skittish.”

The boy waves me off and pets Martha.

Me: “No, I mean she’s very skittish. I don’t think she really likes that.”

I am politely indicating that he should stop. I get a very polite response.

Boy: “Butt out!”

Okay, then I will.

Martha shrank back and was very obviously not happy; her one remaining ear was folded back at this point. The boy was basically standing over her, and no matter how much she meowed at him, increasingly louder, he didn’t stop petting her, even trying to play with her feet, which she withdrew hastily.

Finally, Martha had enough, managed to squeeze past him, and bolted into one of the empty cat boxes.

This would be the clue to stop, but the boy actively put his hand into the cat box to try to keep petting her.

He unsurprisingly yelped and jumped back; Martha had scratched him.

For the rest of the time I was there, the boy whined about how he was “just petting the cat”.

I enjoyed the rest of the hour allotted to me petting the cats (even Martha sat on the couch near me at one point) before leaving the cafe. I kind of doubt the kid learned anything from that, but one can dream.