From Euthanasia List to Safe Room

My First Three Days with Louie the Cat

Louie the Cat

It all started with a phone call. “Cindy, there’s a cat on the euthanasia list at impound. He was found in a carrier left outside a home. He’s about two and neutered. Are you interested in fostering him?”

During the time between the phone call from Nancy at Second Chance Animal Rescue and the cat’s release, I physically prepared for his arrival. My experience has taught me that to build trust with a new animal, I’d need to meet their physical and emotional needs in a safe, supportive environment – one where my stress  doesn’t add to theirs.

I call this  my “nesting phase.”  I begin by making time through grocery shopping, pre-making meals, doing the laundry, and cleaning the house. I swing by the “pet food shed” to pick up food and supplies like litter, toys, and a blanket hand-crafted by a volunteer. (The pet food shed is a perk many rescues offer. They provide the food and supplies, so that fosters don’t have to bear the financial burden associated with pet care.)

During nesting, I rearrange the “safe room” – a room I’ve dedicated for the cat where I can keep him separated and safe from the rest of our home. I’d done a deep clean after our previous foster cat, Ashley, was adopted. My excitement rose as I poured litter into boxes, installed the pet gate, and arranged the food and water dishes. So many fond memories of successful adoptions made me hope for more. Worry came, too. What traumas will he hold? Will I be able to help him find peace?

(Watch this video for a behind the scenes look into my safe space.)

Newly named Louie was transported by a volunteer from animal impound to Southshore Veterinary Clinic. There he was examined, dewormed, and vaccinated. When ready, I was given the green light to retrieve him. The RPMs on my emotional engine were spinning as I turned the key in my car. There was no backing out of this commitment.

A masked veterinary technician carried a vocal Louie to the carrier and deposited him inside. I covered it with a blanket, transported him to my car, and began our journey home. Louie wasn’t keen on being confined. His edgy meows told me so as I drove.

My hands were shaking and my breath caught in my throat as I opened the carrier door in the safe room. Would he come out to explore or would he cower in the carrier in the face of uncertainty? I released an audible sigh, much like a balloon deflating, when Louie ventured past the carrier door with  head swinging cautiously from side to side as he sized up his situation.

We are now a team, him and me. How long his healing takes is dependent on the dance we will navigate together. The layers of his personality may slip off easily like the paper skin of a mature onion, or unfold very slowly, one sticky new onion layer at a time.

Louie can’t share what he’s feeling, and he’s 100% dependent on me for all his needs. Will he eat what I offer? Will his litter box skills regress? Will he vomit or have diarrhea from stress, new food, or vaccinations? It was up to me to observe, interpret, and to use my previous foster experiences to guide me.  

Pregnant kitten Ivy paced for eleven days, meowing at the safe room door, barely touching her food. She gave birth to three healthy kittens who suckled  with fervor. All was well for four weeks until Ivy’s health took a dive. She recovered, then the kittens got sick. There was a lot “clean-up on aisle seven” during the first two months of that new family’s life.

Handsome Vegas, a Siamese male, claimed his territory in the safe room by marking on the walls and on the dresser in which I stored his food. Three weeks after neuter surgery, Mia’s former bedroom no longer smelled like the large cat exhibit at the zoo.

Whether you foster or adopt, it helps to consider the 3-3-3 “rule.” It’s not as much a rule as a guide to common milestones many animals in new environments  undergo at three days, three weeks, and three months. Having clear expectations will set you up for success with your foster or new pet.

It is during the first three days that a  cat will begin to acclimate to a home and EVERYTHING new –  sounds, smells, food, water, furniture, hiding/safe spaces, and humans and their routines. It’s a time of decompression and a critical time for building trust. Go SLOW. Let the animal unwind on their time, not yours.

Each day I sat quietly in the safe room with Louie, waiting for him to initiate contact as he got used to the room and me. I offered high value treats and waved the wand toy to see if he’d play. I read. I posted Louie pictures on social media. I caught up on emails.

I also began imagining the second “3” in the 3-3-3- rule. It represents the next three weeks where I’d gradually introduce Louie to new experiences, other family members, and eventually to our pets. I’d also adjust. Too much stress on Louie, and I’d have to dial back my approach until he’s ready to try again.  

Louie is a handsome cat. I doubt he will be with me longer than three weeks. I’m sure he won’t be here to the final “3” of the 3-3-3 rule that represent three months. That is roughly the time it takes for an animal to trust that they are home.

In Louie’s first three days with me, he showed no interest in playing and wouldn’t sit on my lap. He did head-butt my hand, asking to be petted and brushed, his purr growing louder the longer I obliged. He meowed when I entered the room with a treat. He dared to sleep briefly on my chest as I read.

I’d call that a successful first three days. I can’t wait to share what happens during our next three weeks. Check back here for more.

I’m curious, what did you do to help create a successful transition to your home for your new cat? Add a comment or join me in the Substack chat.

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Before you go, check out these posts written to help you create a smooth transition for you and your new pet.

Like Teen, Like Dog

Why Cats and Kids Need Safe Spaces

The Best Way to Get the Best Cat