My cat Smokey really likes to chew on things, all the time in fact, and I have plenty of frayed shoelaces, ragged blind cords, and worn strings on my clothes for evidence. While this may not seem like a big issue at first glance, his quirky trait has also led to a few more significant damages since we adopted him at around one year of age, including broken speaker wire that led to a serious malfunction on my receiver, a damaged Apple keyboard that ended up having to be fully replaced, and two phone cord chargers that were marred beyond repair.
Unfortunately, when I discovered that fragmented keyboard cable, the most recent of his chewiness, I totally lost my composure. It resulted in a good spanking and yelling at him, which only made me feel like crap about it after I finally cooled down. And it was then I realized that maybe his unusual trait stemmed from a deeper issue.
Maybe it had nothing to do with having the right chew toys?
Maybe it had nothing to do with a dental issue either?
(Both of which being suggestions from our veterinarian friend that were looked into to no success.)
Maybe it was actually because Smokey was never weaned properly off his mother and instead was abandoned by her at less than two weeks of age, being the runt of the litter?
And maybe it has something to do with him almost dying after that, due to health complications and malnourishment.
Was his chewing something that developed as a way of coping with all this?
I say this because each of us have our own quirky traits in life that often stem from traumatic incidents in our past. In my case, I tend to eat most of my meals superfast these days because I was raised in a dysfunctional family where it often wasn’t pleasant to dine with them. In addition, I also tend to take way too much time worrying about my complexion because of a mother who stressed that how one looks on the outside was an extremely important attribute to have in life.
So, while these are just two of my own strange traits I continue to work on removing, it got me to thinking about my cat Smokey and his peculiar chewiness of everything.
While I may never know of the precise reason why Smokey has chewed through so much since my sister first rescued him at such a young age, thinking in terms of my own odd traits that stemmed from unhealthy experiences long ago, I found some compassion and understanding within me for a cat who truly might know no better.
And as much as I have wanted to “chew-proof” my entire household, such as me replacing that broken keyboard with a wireless one like I did the other day, I know doing so is not completely feasible, as I’m sure there will be plenty more frayed, ragged, and worn out dangly things that appear around my home in the future.
Instead, I’m plan on doing my best to channel Christ’s compassion and understanding for all things, including my cat Smokey, so that when it does happen again, I remember that maybe, just maybe, Smokey is only finding comfort in his chewing through things because of the painful memories he started his life with.
Peace, love, light, and joy,
Andrew Arthur Dawson
