Sometimes the cats who scare us the most end up stealing our hearts.
Before we installed the deer fencing around our yard, my beautiful long-haired calico, Delaney, occasionally managed to escape. I'm convinced she's part Houdini. Every now and then, she'd come home with another cat following behind her.
That's how Stash-a beautiful long haired tuxedo-found us.
He jumped into our fenced back yard with Delaney but couldn't figure out how to get back out. At first, I wasn't sure what to do. Stash was completely feral and, to be honest, he frightened me.
I've never been afraid of a cat before, but Stash was different.
He charged at me, hissing and growling with every ounce of fear he had.
Eventually, we were able to humanely trap him and take him to the veterinarian for testing. The results were devastating.
Stash tested positive for both FIV and FeLV.
My heart sank.
He had already spent two days in our backyard around the sanctuary cats. At the time, we were caring for 71 cats, and every one of them had to be tested and vaccinated. It took nearly a month to make sure everyone was safe. It was one of the most stressful experiences we've ever been through.
Despite the diagnosis, we couldn't turn our backs on him.
Stash was only two or three years old and otherwise looked healthy, so we brought him home.
I set him up in our living room using two large dog crates connected together so he'd have plenty of space. Even then, cleaning his enclosure was an adventure. I had to slide a divider between the cages because Stash would launch himself at the door, hissing and trying to chase me away.
Nothing seemed to help.
I talked softly to him every day. I played calming cat music. I tried pheromone diffusers. Catnip. Anything I could think of.
Nothing worked.
Then one day, another sanctuary cat named Captain quietly wandered into the living room.
Captain has never met a stranger. He's one of the sweetest cats you'll ever know.
He walked right up to Stash's enclosure and rubbed against the outside of the cage as if they'd been friends forever.
To my surprise, Stash didn't hiss.
So every day, I'd sit in front of Stash's cage and shower Captain with affection. I'd pet him, tell him what a wonderful boy he was, and carry on the kind of silly baby talk only cat people understand.
For two weeks, Captain became my bridge to Stash.
Eventually, when Captain was nearby, Stash started rubbing against the cage too.
The first time I touched him, it was only with the tip of one finger.
A few days later, I worked up the courage to put my whole hand inside the cage.
Instead of attacking me...
...he leaned into my hand.
About a week later, I opened the cage door.
He was perfect.
Within two months, Stash and I were taking afternoon naps together on the couch.
Because we still believed he was FeLV positive, we couldn't safely let him live with the other sanctuary cats. So we asked the community if they would help us build him a private outdoor catio.
The response was incredible.
People donated money and we were able to build Stash a beautiful space where he could enjoy the sunshine and fresh air while staying safe. It reminded me once again how many compassionate people are willing to help an animal they've never even met.
But something was still missing.
Stash was lonely.
While he was under anesthesia for a routine dental cleaning, I asked the veterinarian, almost on a whim, to run another FeLV/FIV test.
I wasn't expecting anything different.
The result came back...
Negative.
I could hardly believe it.
To be certain, we sent another blood sample to a specialized laboratory in California.
That test was negative too.
After three separate tests that had all indicated Stash was positive, we finally learned the truth.
He wasn't.
Today, Stash lives with the rest of his sanctuary family, exactly where he always belonged. And these days, his very best friend is another sanctuary resident named Butterfinger.
The frightened cat who once charged at anyone who came near him is now a gentle, loving boy who reminds me of something I'll never forget:
Sometimes fear isn't aggression.
Sometimes it's simply a heart that's never been shown kindness before.