The Moral Conundrum of Max the Cat

We gave him a comfortable home, improved health, food, toys, and love–but we took away what he valued most.

“Let’s see this prodigy!” I said to our handyman as he pulled the cat carrier out of his truck. He opened the cage and lifted out a tiny creature with round eyes and exquisite tiger and white markings. So we brought the kitten to our house and let him out to explore the back porch. Almost immediately there were piercing meows whose meaning was perfectly clear. “Where’s the farm? Where’s my family? I don’t like this!” Later it turned out that there were compensations: unlimited lactose-free milk, toys, soft pillows to sleep on, and lots of attention. It seemed OK for a while.

In an earlier post I recounted our first weeks with Max and Bella, the slightly older female kitten we adopted at about the same time. They got along well with each other and with our older cat Rowan. They played, learned new skills, and grew stronger. Years ago, we would have started letting them out at about this age. Our neighborhood was quieter then and our cats enjoyed exploring the yard and basking in the sun on the back porch. These days, it is simply too dangerous. There are more people and more cars. We even have birds of prey, possibly driven into town by the development of surrounding rural areas – owls, hawks and turkey vultures – that carry off small animals.

Like Rowan, Bella was content to be indoors, but for Max there was always something missing. In the morning about breakfast time, he would run around the house meowing, trying all the doors and windows. This would go on for about an hour. In the evening, the same routine for a slightly shorter time. He showed his contempt for our restrictions in other ways, like pulling a dish towel down on the floor and peeing on it.

Some people have suggested that Max might like a little fenced-in area outside, but I know better. What he wants is to be completely free. He comes from a long line of working cats and he wants to be doing the job he was destined for, killing stuff outdoors. As a barn cat, Max would have been exceptional. He is very smart; he recently taught himself to open the drawer under my bed. He loves challenges and risk-taking and isn’t afraid of anything. He gets up on top of the refrigerator and walks along the upstairs railing with ease. He is frustrated because his talents are being wasted; he has wound up in what is basically a spa for cats!

For a long time I tried to think of other options for Max – giving him to someone with a better yard for cats, even sending him back to the farm – but in some ways he is not well suited to be an outdoor cat. Though mighty in spirit, Max is not a large cat, only about ten pounds, and could be injured by a bigger animal. Max is also friendly and loves the company of other friendly cats and people. Outdoors, he would probably be lonely. He might even befriend a human passerby and get picked up as a stray. Max is also very fastidious and keeps himself clean at all times. When we first brought him home we got a damp paper towel and wiped off his tiny feet, which were dirty from being in the cat carrier. Once he understood what we were doing, he started purring.

As cats get older, they seem to develop a deeper attachment to the people and other cats they love. Max and Rowan take naps together. He and Bella chase each other around the house. Max is two-and-a-half now and the demands to go out are fewer and less intense. Nobody gets everything they want in life, not even cats.