Hershe’s Story — Learning to Receive

As told by Hershe
Written by Tiffany Argent, CatsHope™ Ambassador

Hershe Speaks: A Gentleman with Particulars

I expect certain things of a home. A bowl of my own. A comfortable place. And proper attention when I require it. I am Prince Hershe Stanton Lance Percival Blossoms De Breeze. My furmily and friends call me Hershe.

I have a flopped left ear, a soft black-and-white coat of long fur and a small voice. I seldom need to raise it. A look is often enough to make my wishes understood. But there was a time when even a bowl of wet food placed before me was unfamiliar.

Before CatsHope™

I was one of five cats in a home where life was changing. The people were separating. There were arguments and a new baby. We cats were kept in one part of the house while the lives around us moved on. There was never enough food. People were always in a rush to clean.

When I came into care, I had already had surgery on my ear. The stitches were still there and needed to be removed. Afterwards, one ear stayed folded down. It gives me a particular appearance. A gentleman need not have two perfectly upright ears.

Some things can still send me away quickly. A packet of wipes being opened. A sharp, unfamiliar smell. I may be comfortably settled one moment and looking for distance the next. When I hear the rustle, I leap up and dash away as fast as I can. My people have learned to notice.

The unfamiliar bowl

I liked company. I liked attention. I was willing to perch where people could see me and to play with the other cats. But wet food was another matter. They put it before me. I dipped my nose towards it. Eating it did not come so easily.

There was help. In the early days, they wrapped me gently, held me close and fed me with a spoon. Once or twice a day, someone made time for me. This was not a lesson finished in an afternoon. It continued for more than a year.

Taste and texture became familiar through repetition. A little food, another meal, another day. There was always someone involved. Someone noticing what I could manage.

What the tests could tell

There was more to my care than food. When my ear was treated and further tests were done, they found that I was severely anaemic. My red blood cell count was very low.

The cause was not clear. There were tests, treatments, supplements and months of watching. Poor nutrition was considered, but there was no certain explanation.

My long fur makes me look fuller than I am. Beneath it, I remain very thin, with little muscle on my slight frame. I continue to struggle with anaemia. Regular wet-food meals help me gain weight, but keeping it on takes steady care.

I cannot tell you what a blood test means. I can tell you about the part that became familiar to me: being held, being fed and having someone return to the task.

My people had questions to work through. I had a spoon to become acquainted with.

A place across a knee

Eventually, I no longer needed to be wrapped. I could lie across a knee while the spoon came towards me. The food mattered. So did being close.

Gradually, I began to eat wet food for myself. Sometimes I asked for a portion. There were still meals when I wanted help, and times when spoon-feeding remained a pleasure.

Learning to do something myself did not mean I had stopped enjoying company.

I am fond of being stroked and held. My voice is small, so I do not always make a noise about it. I position myself. I look. My people understand.

The Fountain and the Prince

The drinking fountain caught my attention when I first arrived. I could watch it for twenty or thirty minutes. Water moving, a paw reaching towards it, a long drink. There was much to investigate.

There was play too. And comfortable places to settle. And, occasionally, a situation in which a prince’s dignity became difficult to defend.

Once, while lying across a human’s legs, I slowly slipped down. My front half descended. My hindquarters stayed up. I remained in that position and looked upwards. Apparently, my expression gave nothing away. I see no reason why it should.

The Treasures of Home

In the Celestial Cat-Dragons of CatsHope™, my imagined guardian is a Pixiu of the Houses of Blossoms and De Breeze. It is a splendid form for a small gentleman to have beside him.

The treasures I know are ordinary ones. A familiar bowl. Water to watch. A knee to lie across. Someone who notices when I need help and someone who knows when I would like to play.

Today, I live among the CatsHope™ cats. I can sometimes eat wet food myself. At other meals, I still need or enjoy a little assistance. I keep my routines. I take my share of affection. My ear remains flopped, and my expression remains my own.

You may call me Charmer.

I would like to sit with you.

Article by Tiffany Argent, CatsHope™ Ambassador.
Stories and pictures © CatsHope™

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