Our first visit with Wendy at her foster home.
Wendy's brief time as a lap cat.
Every year on her birthday, we have a little conversation with Wendy. Here's how it went today:
Me: Hey, Wendy, you're five years old! Happy birthday! Are you ready to stop hating me yet?
Me: What did I ever do to you to make you run away if I even look at you? I can't even walk into a room sometimes without you taking off.
Husband: Wendy, your mother adores you and has always been nice to you. Don't forget that she found you at the rescue, and brought you home and treated all your parasites and that ringworm! She's also the reason you get to eat such nice food instead of kibble. Can't you be a tiny bit grateful?
Husband: So, you've lived with us for almost five years now. Do you think it's time you unpacked and settled in?
Husband: I love that you let me give you belly rubs when I'm sitting in the leather chair or I'm in bed, but do you have to flee from me in terror the rest of the time?
Me: Wendy, have you noticed how your four brothers never, ever run away from us — except for Lion, when we're wearing shoes? Can you try to relax, like them?
Husband: Wendy, I'm going to catch you and hold you for a little while every day until you get over your fear of me. I could tell you didn't like it when I did it today, but I hope you'll get used to it.
Me: Don't worry, Wendy. I'm not going to do that because I think you'd have a heart attack.