Does life ever go as planned? Welcome aboard, furchildren!
He’s not too scared to eat. He’s not too scared to sometimes come out in the open, as long as he knows he’s got hiding places he can retreat to. And he’s not scared of Sammy; and clearly takes some comfort from his presence.
He may always be a timid cat. But I’m pretty sure he’ll get less frightened over time. It’s only been a couple of days.
Yes, thanks, you’re right, and that’s a good reminder. Meanwhile, here’s this morning’s report, as posted on Facebook (no new photos – yet):
This morning: B&S were both in one cat cave.
Sammy came out right away with a tiny hiss, then followed me into the bathroom/kitchen, curling around my legs while I fixed breakfast, also happily responded to head/jowl skritches and back strokes. I’m still being careful not to pet him too much in case he decides it’s too much.
Barnaby darted out when I was coming out of the bathroom with the food bowls, slunk a few feet away, and watched warily as I put down the two dishes on opposite sides of the central rug under the candle stand.
I walked wide around the room to get to the stairs as far as possible from Barnaby, and paused in the doorway to watch. Sammy had dived right into his breakfast. Barnaby eyed me warily for a minute or two, then slunk over to his bowl and started gobbling.
I’m glad I took Sammy as well when I’d intended to adopt only Barnaby, and not just because he’s going to be a lovebug. Poor Barnaby would have been a lot worse off emotionally if he didn’t have Sammy for comfort.
Congrats on your new boys.
My new cat, Milo, was dumped at a trailer park and I picked him up from the rescuer when I was driving a rescue dog transport. From the start he’s been a total lovebug with me. I’ve had him in one half of the house, away from the 5 dogs, letting him get used to them. I prop the door open just wide enough for him, but the dogs can’t get through and can’t close it. Slowly he’s been coming out and interacting with the dogs. He’s fascinated by wagging tails and tries to catch them. He’s been wary of my doberman, and I’m not pushing it. If he feels unsafe, he can take it slowly. Just yesterday, after 6 months, he crept into my bedroom. He didn’t stay long, but he felt safe enough to come into a room full of dogs.
StG
Wow, a rescue cat braving a houseful of dogs? Impressive!
Morning B&S update: Sammy was waiting in the doorway and didn’t even tiny-hiss as I came up to the third floor. He actually purred and did the excited-cat weave, dart away, return and weave, all the way to the kitchenette. He was eager for skritches and backstrokes but I gave him brief amounts, figuring he was already so excited about BEING FED!!! that he could easily get too stimulated and chomp.
Last night at the bedtime feeding he was also like this, and I believe he’s decided I’m all right, mate. I sat in my chair, reading, for an hour plus after I fed them, and mostly he catloafed by the candle stand after eating, but did approach me off and on for a bit of attention, though never jumped up to my lap. He’s a solid chonk and my biggest problem with him will likely be preventing him from turning into a butterball.
As to Barnaby, last night when I fed – now serving the dishes on a tray in the reading room, in front of a bookcase across from my chair – he kept his distance as usual but went with less hesitation to join Sammy, with less slink, as I headed for the stairs. This morning Barnaby actually came within a couple of feet as I was putting the tray down! Still watching me warily, of course, but it seemed less intense.
The two of them will eat from the same dish, taking turns shoving their head in.
And so it goes. Well enough, well enough.
This is wonderful. 
That’s quite a lot of progress!
Yup. Going very well indeed.
Today: Sam doesn’t fear me at all, he loves attention, though he has yet to get up on my lap. My biggest problem with him will be keeping him from ballooning into a mega-chonk.
Barnaby, now… Tiny increments of progress daily, and then…
I’m afraid I’ve set back Barnaby’s trust today. I was in the kitchenette preparing their lunch, with an excited Sammy buzzing around at my feet, when ZAP Sam had leaped to the counter, landing right on the tray! I YEEKED, grabbed Sammy and deposited him back on the floor. He ran out into the room, then poked his head back inside to check whether I was bringing the food.
I was, and headed to the usual spot, with Sammy happily following, unfazed by the contretemps, but Barnaby was crouched near the stairs, bugeyed, and as soon as I got to the candle stand he bolted downstairs. I couldn’t put the food tray down and leave it at that; Sammy would inhale both bowls’ worth; so I carried it downstairs to my office to where Barnaby was huddled under a shelving unit, and started to put it down near him.
NO NO NO Barnaby bolted from his refuge and fled back upstairs. I went up after him, still carrying the tray, tailed by a confused, starving Sam, put the tray down in the usual spot, looked around, saw Barnaby huddled in one of the cat caves, and headed partway down the stairs, then waited a minute or two, till I heard the scaredy-cat emerge and saw him feeding, with worried looks over his shoulder.
I’m hoping this wasn’t too traumatic for Barnaby, but I suspect it’s going to take a bit of time to reset his fearfulness to the point before Sammy launched himself into the food prep.
I wonder whether it was the YEEK. Maybe he knew someone for whom shouting was followed by hitting.
You might need to move back to sitting quietly for a while each day, not too close; and then very gradually slightly closer.
You’ll get there. It may take a while.
— years ago I wound up with a cat who had been kicked. He was very foot shy when a friend of mine first rescued him; pick up a foot anywhere near him and he was gone. I sometimes pat cats with my feet . . .
I had to learn not to try to pat him with my feet. He had to learn that there would be no more kicks. It took months before he would sit on a lap.
But, years later — eventually I could even pat him with my feet.
That occurred to me also. No way to know for sure what his life was like in a 50-cat hoarder house, but it clearly wasn’t good, and he’s eight years old, so the roots of his fear are well established. Still, I do think he’ll become more comfortable over time, given the progress he’d already made before I terrorized him.
You’re doing good work, in the full and spiritual meaning of the term, and best of all, it’s the kind of good work that brings its own rewards. I’m sure that Barnaby (cute name, BTW) will come around in time despite the recent temporary setback, and Sammy already seems to be settling in.
Just want to add that I’m following the progress with interest, and BTW, since some of us don’t do Facebook, if you get the chance a few new pics here would be great! 
Yeah, one of my cats was abused, and he’s getting better, but he still gets triggered by us. He was both kicked and hit. He’s really frightened if i lean down and put my hand near him. This is a problem for me, as that’s how i greet my other the cats, all of whom lean into the hand for scritches. Weirdly, he’s our most enthusiastic lap cat. And he loves being petted (with my hand) when he’s in my lap. It’s clear no one ever hit him when he was sitting in a lap. Or when he was being groomed. Yes, this car panics if i bend over to pet him, but is only mildly annoyed (and not at all frightened) if i hold him down and tug at his fur with clippers.
I think Barnaby will come around. You’ll have to according him to you again, I bet it takes a lot less time than initially.
So, getting back toward trust this morning! Sammy was at the top of the stairs waiting for breakfast, and Barnaby was a couple of feet behind him! And stayed out of hiding (at a safe distance) when I came in the room and went about prepping and serving breakfast. So some lost ground has been regained.
Since some of you don’t do Facebook, I posted some photos at Bluesky, which makes it possible to post images here. So, let’s start with a closer look at the boys. Here’s a couple from the first day home with me: Barnaby behind the litter box, Sammy outside of it, a few feet away from the box.
Oh, yes. Sammy is a chonk and determined to eat himself into a beach ball. I haven’t changed his shelter name since it seems to fit him. Barnaby was Baked Alaska at the shelter. I’ve become hooked on the British crime TV series Midsomer Murders featuring a Chief Detective Inspector Barnaby, so decided to use that name instead.
Here’s Barnaby keeping an eye on me from his cat cave lair:
And here the two of them are hanging out in my reading chair:
As they’ve gained confidence they’ve chosen to stay out and about when I sit with them, reading and occasionally talking to them. Here they are, still staying alert just in case:
And some minutes later, having decided I pose no imminent threat:
The lessons of abuse sink deep into them, poor things, and it’s indeed a slow process to rebuild their trust in people. My late horse Nick had been abused before I got him, and even after 20 years of kindness and desensitizing I could still trigger an angry response by touching him a certain way.
I don’t think Barnaby was necessarily physically abused; rather I expect in that hoard he was never properly socialized to humans and is not much different mentally from a wild-born feral. Still, even at 8 years old and with that history, he does seem to be making progress toward accepting me.
Both of them, closed eyes out in the open with you in the room!
You’re definitely gaining on it.
(Yes, I know. Barnaby’s eyes aren’t quite closed. But you’re still gaining on it.)
Is there something going on with Sammy’s eye?
Yes, I think so. He holds it a bit more closed than the other eye and there’s a very small amount of discharge from it. I’m watching it and if it gets worse I’ll take him to the vet.