Clawdia, the drama queen

Day 1 ~ Monday ~ I'm trying to get Clawdia to wear her cat harness so I can use a leash to take her places.  When I put it on her, however, she collapses like it has sapped all her strength.  I decided to get her used to it by letting her wear it while she's at home.  Yesterday, she plopped down and refused to move off the bed.  (See above.)  I left for a meeting; when I returned, she acted like she had "found herself" up high in our bedroom, still wearing the harness, but now suspiciously unable to jump back down the way she usually does.  Acting pitiful, she finally came down on her own, when I refused to help her.  It is, after all, something she does several times a day.  She jumped down onto a box, whimpered, and waggled her left paw off the edge of the box, as if she were now crippled and wasn't sure she could jump down another fifteen inches to the bed.  What a drama queen!  Of course, she could do it.  And did, eventually.  When I took the harness off her before bedtime, she went to the living room and ignored me, saying without words, "I don't think I like you any more."  Eventually, she came and joined me, but stayed at the foot of the bed away from me, the big bully who put that red thing on her.

Day 2 ~ Tuesday ~ She didn't move from atop the bed while I was gone to a lunch-time meeting downstairs for a couple of hours.  I noticed she hadn't even eaten her "breakfast," which was dried out in her bowl.  When popping open a new can of food didn't entice her to move, I pull-walked her to the edge of the bed to jump down, pull-walked her to the kitchen, and left her in front of her bowl.  This is how she ate, lying flat on the floor because the harness wouldn't let her stand up to eat as she usually does.  After she ate a few bites, I watched her walk backwards to the living room (behind her) and sit down, exhausted from the 36-inch trip backwards.  It's a powerful thing, that harness.  It causes a mighty cat to lose all her powers, like being able to walk — or jump onto the table or counter — or even off the bed.  It incapacitated her, I tell you!  And this is the cat I found a few weeks ago up near the ceiling on top of the highest bookshelf.  When I force her to wear this ... this ... THING, she creeps around like a geriatric patient on her last legs.

I wish I could explain to her that, wearing it, she would be able to go outside.  She could walk through the lobby of our building, go visit Donna or Tiny, or just get OUT for awhile.  She loves exploring and being with people and getting out of our apartment.  If she can adjust to wearing this, maybe ... just maybe ... she won't have to travel everywhere in her cat carrier.

Oh, by the way, someone asked me if the harness is too tight on her, if that's the problem.  Nope, if anything, it's too big.  When I tried using the leash to walk her to the elevator (a trial run) a few days ago, I had to carry her most of the way.  When I put her down beside the chairs at the elevators, she refused to move, "stood her ground" when I tried to get her to walk with me, and then pulled right out of the harness!  No, she didn't get lost.  She had escaped that cruel captivity and ran like crazy all the way back to our apartment door.

Day 2 ~ Still Tuesday ~ I went to a late afternoon meeting, leaving Clawdia "undressed" — in other words, not wearing her harness.  When I got home, she was napping in the easy chair, apparently once again able to jump up onto things.