Life Investment

This is a tribute – a goodbye, if you prefer – to a wonderful kitten I once had. I named her Shania after Shania Twain, because the kitten was sassy, with a need-to-comment-about-everything amazing personality. And with “Any Man of Mine” being her theme song, cat-centric changes should help you understand her better.

This is What a Kitten Wants

Any man of mine will pay attention to me,
Smiling when I use him as a climbing tree,
And he’ll know my voice, about my tail and ears,
Minding my claws or they’ll bring him tears.

Any man of mine will treat my body right,
Serving me wet food, chicken or tuna alright?
And he’ll clean my toilet, an’ listen to all I say,
Then massage me the right way.

And if I change my mind,
A million times,
I want to hear him say,
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I like it that way.

Any man of mine better walk the line,
Keepin’ a squeezin’, pleasin’ routine in sync with mine,
I need a man who knows how the story goes,
His touch will be the heart-breakin’, fine-treatin’,
Breath-takin’, sleep-inducin’ kind.
Any man of mine.

Well, any man of mine will never disagree,
When I hiss or claw, or bite to get free,
And if I cover my bowl, or knock the food out,
He better say, mm, I like it like that.

And if I change my mind,
A million times,
I want to hear him say,
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I like it that way.

***

I miss Shania. I’d be a fool to suggest otherwise. It’s been well over a month since she made it to a better place. At the end of her stay here, she started dragging her legs – a condition directly linked to inbreeding. In every other way, Shania was amazing. Her front legs were plenty strong to get her where she wanted to go. Her claws worked fine! Teeth, too. I still have faint scars from when she expressed her dissatisfaction during physical therapy.

Despite Shania’s limitations, I was fully invested in making sure she had the best life possible. That meant helping her recover, if possible. Adam was the same way. Shania visited him, and he benefitted therapeutically from having her around. As he said, “I could relate to her brokenness.” Yet, I think it was the way she didn’t act broken that inspired him. Sure, she needed some partner assistance for toilet activities, and she couldn’t climb up on the bunk, but in every other way she was amazingly normal.

If one could accept having the most talkative cat in the world around!

Like the time Shania said, “Noooo,” when I asked if she wanted to go to the bathroom! Distinct trilling sounds meant “come pet me.” She’d bite if ignored. Various meows were expressions of wants, curiosity, satisfaction or dissatisfaction (which generally included teeth and claws). She never liked baths, but always loved the hours of petting, rubbing, massaging each day.

From a food perspective, she ate better than I did! Pouches of chunk chicken, mackerel fillets, tuna in water. Cream and Gouda cheese. Powdered milk. I did try to mix in meats served on trays, usually by setting the tray down for her to inspect. On days real chicken was served, Shania became a primal beast! But, you see, it all had to be wet – in this unique way: Put food in bowl. Add milk. Stir. If they were separate, Shania ignored the milk, and clawed around the bowl to cover or flip it over. Made correctly, she licked the milk first and ignored the food, returning to eat later. Crazy cat! 

My love for Shania made it impossible to justify keeping her when an opportunity to get her medical care was possible. The days when I’d put the harness on, and lowered her outside my door to wander around were over. Rarely did she visit the dayroom, especially when the filth and hostility ramped up. Yes, Adam and I loved on her all day, played with her constantly, and gave her more dedicated attention than normal pets likely receive, but I felt she deserved more. Her nerve pain could be intense, periodically making her scream.

So, I asked some friends for help.

I once told Adam, “I wouldn’t have gotten Shania on my own.” I love pets, just prefer dogs. So I lacked cat/kitten experience. Adam was gracious with sharing all he knew, and Linda helped as well. We ended up having a drawn-out shared experience with dramatic highs and lows. One kitten taken, Shania held hostage, and another almost died. The tests in those moments offered chances to brave hardships and grow by persevering. 

It would’ve been far more enriching overall if a Prison Animal Program (PAP) involving cats had existed; an opportunity that will hopefully become available in the future, because numerous therapeutic benefits for inmates have been proven. And it would provide a viable means to reduce the number of cats euthanized locally. Texas has dog programs, trains horses, and other jobs that require working with animals. Establishing a therapeutic community with cat companions could be a natural progression. Possible benefits for participants would include living in a positive environment to raise, train, and groom cats. A veterinarian technical training module could also be offered. Overall experience would aid with employment opportunities, which should align well with Executive Director Collier’s “2030 Plan.”

Personally, I recognize how insignificant my voice is. Primarily due to where I’m housed. Changing that dynamic is a top priority, because this version of “at the bottom” makes it easy for Senior Administrators to not take me seriously. 

A matter of trust, right? I understand.

Just like I have a new, more profound understanding of what cat companions can offer. Having Shania for over six months gave me the opportunity to love and invest in life in a unique way. It also deepened the bond of friendship I have with Adam, which is beyond priceless.

“I used to angle my pole with the mirror in the hole to watch her, and that brought me comfort,” Adam said. And when she visited his cell, “I was angry and wanted to go off. Then I turned, saw her ears, those big eyes, and her ‘what’s your problem’ expression, and I calmed down.”

In those ways, Shania was a therapeutic lifeline for Adam. She taught me how to be more patient, and where I was too rigid with my expectations. Anyone who knows about cats understands they are curious. Shania wanted to prowl, do her own thing. Adam helped me learn how to direct her passion or interest.

Which meant I got scolded by a cat all the time! It was, perhaps, the one area where Adam lacked skill, because he would pop off, “Just leave her alone.” He didn’t understand. I wasn’t doing… anything. He received a world class education when I sent her to him, though. In time, he learned the full scope of how aptly named she was.

***

I asked Linda to send Hortencia a message for me, asking if she’d like to have Shania, explaining the situation. I asked Adam if he’d help coordinate with whoever might help take Shania off the unit. Of course, I wanted to keep her, but I was burdened every day with the knowledge that a better reality had to exist. Adam suggested she could overcome the condition. Maybe. But witnessing the evolution of nerve impact, the times when Shania writhed and screamed, ate at me. I have neck, shoulder and lower back nerve pain, so my empathy was heightened. 

When I received word that Hortencia would love to have Shania, I called and we discussed the specifics. I was confident in and greatly comforted by Hortencia’s promise to take Shania to a veterinarian, and to provide for her no matter what. Too much time, energy, and resources had been invested to simply have someone else give up. 

Even so, I was mindful of the risks. As Adam pointed out, “I worry she won’t receive the same attention and care we’ve provided her in here.” His devil’s advocate perspective made me clarify specifics with Hortencia, making our position clear. She understood and was supportive.

Which left one, tiny problem: Cat-smuggling 101. Cue the James Bond music!

Considering past experiences, guards/staff (mostly women) cared and were willing to aid injured cats. Both of Shania’s sisters left the unit. Onica (all black and fiercely independent) broke a leg and was spirited away. Whisper, Adam’s second kitten, survived a night of seizures until willing assistance was found to save her life. Perhaps Shania’s condition wasn’t as critical, but the focus was health related. I believed compassion would win out.

Adam had another, more absolute view. “I know they will help,” he commented, even though reluctant to force the issue. But he did with my prompting. It took, as with so many other things, Adam leaving his cell and going to the dayroom.

Out there he waved and yelled, demanding attention. But the lady officer wouldn’t come talk to him directly. Not until I sent Shania to the dayroom. Seeing the kitten was like magic, and soon the officer was before Adam. The lady named the condition Shania suffered from, and told Adam it could be treated, fixed.

When their discussion ended, Adam walked over and asked me, “Do I give Shania to her?” The lady had entered the section, was near the dayroom door, but stopped and looked at me. When I told Adam he should, grief suffused his face. Shadows filled his eyes. He held Shania close until I was done talking to the guard, explaining about Hortencia, providing contact information. Then it was done, Shania was gone.

Not far, initially, just up into the picket. Adam watched Shania climb all over the lady whose happiness, willingness, brought me a level of comfort. In time for Adam as well, but so soon after losing an anchor he despondently paced the dayroom. 

Later, when back in his cell, he mused aloud, “It was the haircut that made it possible.” The very act he committed by openly defying and angering me! Well, so be it. A small concession.

The unknown remained, though. Getting Shania to Hortencia (who lived near San Antonio). As I adjusted to Shania’s absence, the acute loss of touching and hearing her, I also called Hortencia with updates, almost daily. Something the officer did not do. And attempts, spearheaded by Adam, to interact with the officer directly only resulted in thumbs up from a distance.

“What the hell does that mean?!” Adam was frustrated by not being able to learn specifics about Shania. “Is she healthy, dead, what?” Once again, it took him doing what he does best – being brash and in-your-face – going to the dayroom to get things done. The lady came and talked to him then, providing wonderful updates.

Shania saw the veterinarian, and surgery wasn’t needed. It seems likely that she got hung up in the birth canal, twisting or tweaking her spine. Coupled with inbreeding, which inhibited development, Shania was nutrient deficient. With cat-specific vitamins, and a diet of goat milk, she was back to using all four legs. She had her own room, cat box, several men wrapped around her paws, a puppy to whip, other cats to learn from. A true home. And most of all, a dedicated woman who adored her. One who learned the hard way that Shania was spoiled on wet food. Dry food got slapped right out of the bowl, with a fierce “you must be stupid” look. The lady guard also admitted she’d never experienced such a talkative cat!

“She has something to say about everything!” The lady was so exuberant in explaining details, it was obvious she wanted to keep Shania. Which, overall, was fine. The goal was met either way, and later when I talked to Hortencia she was perfectly fine with the outcome as well.

***

I’m convinced every man who comes to prison suffers from mental health issues in some way. A likely root ailment is depression, if Terry Real’s therapeutic commentary is sound. In his book, I Don’t Want To Talk About It, Real identifies key dynamics that affect men, such as how many suffer from covert depression until overt behavior demands attention. Criminal conduct tops many lists, leading to incarceration. For men, the fundamental wound is disconnection, so being ensconced in a prison setting, in my opinion, magnifies the wound through acute separation, exile. Terrence Real makes it clear how treatment requires reconnection.

He says, “The cure for covert depression is most often overt depression. And the key for overt depression in men? Intimacy – with himself and others. If disconnection is the disease, reconnection is the cure.” When covertly depressed, men employ defensive maneuvers – affairs, self-medicating with drinking or drugs, getting angry to flee the shameful feelings of helplessness and despair, even excessive work or exercise. They have to be addressed first. “Sobriety must be achieved – often through tailored treatment for substance abuse and process addiction, like harm reduction or 12-step programs. And acts of violence need to be addressed…” Which means incarceration plays a role, but integrating better, more effective therapeutic modelling is necessary. Otherwise, whatever led to incarceration is only paused, waiting to resurface once time is served.

We are all vulnerable, and prison heightens that reality as well. In prison, we lose fundamental freedoms and choice, so we superficially try to create them for ourselves, often to our detriment. Terrence Real speaks to that reality. “Trying to deny your human vulnerability is like trying to outrun your own rectum. It has a way of following you wherever you go.” The innate desire never fades. Instead, the idea of what vulnerability through being connected should be was suppressed, perverted. Reconditioning the mind through introspecting on other possibilities is needed, but also difficult. Time consuming. And only truly effective if a person stops running, and wants to change. “As a clinician,” Real wrote, “I rarely find I need to pursue the depression it manifests quickly and virulently as soon as the man stops avoiding it.” 

If prison is meant to force a person to stop running, under the guise of behavior modification (“attempt to modify behavior” is common on disciplinary paperwork), the model often fails by not addressing individual needs through rehabilitative efforts – which is complicated, time consuming, takes societal commitment, and more resources.

Many incentivized living areas and program opportunities now exist in Texas prisons. Our tablets provide, even for those in restrictive housing, educational content. Courses about how to stop, be still, introspect, and heal. Excuses are fewer as a result, yet bad actors still exist.

Would a cat program solve every problem? No. What it would do is fill a niche, providing men in restrictive housing settings a method to explore reconnecting through intimacy. No doubt pros and cons exist, but they’re hardly insurmountable. But I guess that depends on who truly cares about those of us forced to remain in tiny cells all day. My reality for over fifteen years.

***

I miss the constant intimacy Shania drew out of me. Her dependence was humbling. Her feistiness, inspiring. Why? Because every time she got hurt, she kept fighting. She expressed herself in a natural way, and even when only able to use her front legs, she kept living. She kept loving Adam and I despite our faults, even when they negatively impacted her. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever get another opportunity to have a kitten. I’d want the commitment to be paired with a legitimate program, to eliminate many of the hardships we faced by having contraband pets. Either way, Shania was a precious gift. Adam and I were her stewards. I’m smarter, wiser, and definitely more connected because of the experience. If that wasn’t a quality life investment, I don’t know what is.