Bristol is still trying to sort out her life. She knows that food arrives five times a day in the same place, she knows she is now warm and comfortable and no longer has to find hidey holes to hide from predators both four and two legged.

She is a biter, which does not surprise me. Most cats once you remove their claws (reprehensible if you ask me) they have no recourse but to bite. Usually a display of claws is enough to frighten a predator but without those weapons she is defenseless, so she bites- HARD.

Especially at night when I am trying to sleep. If I dare to stroke her- she snaps quickly. Thankfully, she has only nailed me one time and my hope is in time, she will relax and understand that at night nothing bad will grab her- but that will come in time.

Last night as we lay on the bed together, and I struggled to try and get some sleep, I decided to just lay my hand down on top of the covers. Until now, I have kept them tucked in tight under the blankets to prevent surprise attacks. She crept up to me and laid down near my hand. I held my breath just praying “Please don’t bite me.” Soon, I felt her paws grabbing my hand and I flinched thinking she was getting ready to put her teeth into my fingers. Instead, she drew my hand close to her chest, laid her head on my hand and slept.

I woke up this morning, with her still cuddling my hand much like a mother cat would hold a kitten. It was awkward to sleep like that with her, but I was so grateful not to see teethmarks in my hand that my stiff back didn’t matter.

We are making small strides, we are figuring all of this out as we go along and she is giving me hope that even at her age, there is someone out there with the patience and love to help this misunderstood, declawed and neglected cat.