He arrived with six others on March 9th, 2014. Although owned by two other rescuers, this black and white, long-haired kitten had yet to be neutered. March 10th an appointment was made to get him clipped. He was so matted, the vet took pity on me and clipped the worst mats off this unsocialized kitten while he was sedated.

It is 4:38 a.m. Edison has been here a month now. I am sitting on the bedroom floor with my kitten bait (a pouch of turkey/ham thinly sliced). I do my standard kitty call in a soft voice, but it doesn’t matter- seven kittens from the living room come skidding down the hallway and slide into the screen door preventing them entry into the bedroom. For now, they are now ignored. They will be treated later. I toss several large pieces of meat onto the floor and dim the lights. The Edison Project is commencing.

He has been lurking underneath the bed now for a month. He would hiss and growl when we gained entry into the bedroom then slip underneath the bed (still growling) I have let him be- he is eating, he is drinking and using the litterpans. I know he needs to have mats removed, be de-wormed because of tapes. They put flea treatment on him at the time of surgery but that time has passed, he needs new treatment. Adding deworming medicine to food no matter how tasty or stinky has been a bust. He won’t even lick a drop of the food. I wish I had his sense of smell!

I have to wonder. Karen told me she got this kitten from a fellow rescuer. I know this rescuer well. She is passionate about spaying and neutering. So passionate, that her beater car bears a chart of numbers of how many kittens she is responsible for neutering. I can’t think she had this kitten and didn’t neuter him. Her vet neuters at 3 months old.

Edison sits across the room staring at me. I am careful not to meet his gaze and keep my eyes half-shut and my head down. I give my kitty call and toss out more turkey ham. After a few moments of consideration, he goes for the meat dragging it off into the corner away from the silly human who is sitting motionless on the floor.

Edison is beautiful. I call him my goofball, he makes this charming, trilling noise to the other cats at the door, much like the sounds they make when they see a bird outside the window but a bit louder. He has a black face with a split at the nose and mouth of white. There is a small black dot under his lip- a beauty mark. His chest is white and he has one white toe on his right front leg. I toss more turkey/ham this time closer to where I am sitting.

He peeks around the corner- he is half-lying under the bed. I see him but ignore him. I grin as he slides like a soldier during combat on the ground towards the coveted reward. He snags the meat and to my surprise, instead of scooting down around the bed and out of sight, he stays put about a foot from my left leg and eats his fill.

I hear labored breathing, but his eyes and nose are clear of discharge. Suspect he is stressed- waiting for the stupid human to spring up and surprise him and startle him or hurt him. I stay motionless except to toss more meat and call to him. If I am not mistaken, this is the first time a human has tried to make gentle-contact with him and he’s not quite sure what to make of it.

As I sit and write in my notebook (paper not electronic) I am reading out loud to him the words that are forming. I want him to get used to my voice and associate it with good things. He has moved a bit closer to me and I sense him watching me but I avert my eyes. I keep writing and reading and ignore him.

This process is never easy on cat/kitten or human. In the years of developing this process, I have found that they are scared of anything taller than they are (predators) so I lower the threat by sitting.

As a silly human, my first instinct needs to be set on the side. I so want to just scoop him up and tell him it’s alright, that no one will hurt him. Pet him and love on him and bring him into the world of trust. But that is the last thing you should do in this situation. He would run for the safety of the bed and not be seen for weeks.

They run on their own timetable and as humans, we need to reset our expectations. Although we easily follow a routine schedule, stray cats retain their own tempo. I move only when he shows me he is ready to accept more change. At least for now, I have located his Achilles Heel…turkey ham!