It's That Time of Year Again

The days are becoming shorter, the sun is rising later and setting earlier, and the nights are colder. It’s that time of year again: the time for the heating pads to go into the cat-beds.

The two cat-beds in the sitting room are used throughout the year, but not every day. Come the autumn, though, and the insertion of the heating pads, the beds become popular once more. Renn prefers the bed by the micro-wave oven stand, while Cammie may usually be found in the one by the small, central bookcase. It’s interesting that initially I heated only the cat-bed by the micro-wave oven, and the princess lie in that one. But feline traffic past that spot is too great; she’d rather be out of the way a bit.

Also interesting is that I thought of putting a cat-bed among the towels on the library couch, for Parker’s use during the night, and during those days when he is sequestered in that room. That was why only one of the cat-beds in the sitting room had a heating pad at first. But my orange foster-boy didn’t seem to like the heat. Each day and night, I found the towels pulled around, and no evidence that he ever used them for sleeping. I think he disliked the extra heat and was trying to find its source. Since I have removed the heating pad, Parker has resumed using the towel-bed.

But whatever makes the beasts happy will be done. Those who like the extra warmth will use the pads; for those who do not, there are many other comfortable locations in which to snooze. The wind has been howling lately, the dark comes sooner each day, and it’s good to appreciate having a snug home.

Yes, it’s that time of year again.

A Small Embarrassment

Though, as we know, cats are by and large clean animals, they can create a bit of a mess now and then. This is especially the case with long-haired cats. They sometimes need extra attention from their humans. Renn is officially considered ‘medium-haired’, but his fur is long enough for me.

During the weekend, he used the litter-box and left a particularly stinky and less-than-solid deposit. That did not bother me overly much; I merely scooped it out right away. But the smell lingered. In fact, it seemed to follow my big boy about. I figured that his bum would need cleaning. It was worse than that. His tail needing cleaning, and so did whatever his tail had brushed against since leaving the litter box. Sigh.

Well, that’s part of our job, so I gathered up a protesting Renn and took him into the bathroom, where he protested even more fully. I had to wash his tail quite vigorously, soaking it in the process. My big boy disliked the process tremendously, but he has a floofy tail and had evidently been flourishing it about as he left the litter-box, so there was much to be done.

I think Renn was embarrassed more than anything else. This rarely occurs to him; despite the length of his hair, he is a very clean fellow, and this was no doubt mildly humiliating. He retreated afterward to the tallest cat-tree to hide, and clean himself in private.

It happens to the best of cats, my big boy…

A Late Night Conversation with Renn

I wake up. What time is it? I have to open my eyes to see the clock. If I open my eyes, Renn will know I’m awake. I’ll do it quickly. No, I’m facing the wrong way; I’ll have to turn my head to look. It’s twenty after two. Good. Plenty of time left until I have to get up. Rats. Renn knows I’m awake.

Renn: Purr…purr…purr…

Me: Hello, Renn.

Renn: You’re awake.

Me: Only briefly.

Renn: Purr…purr…purr…

Me: Not so close, Renn. Your whiskers are tickling my nose.

Renn: I like it when you pet me.

Me: I know you do. Move back, Renn. You’re claws are puncturing my skin when you knead.

Renn: I like you.

Me: I like you, too, Renn. I’m going to turn over and face the other way. I’ve been lying on this side for a couple of hours.

Renn: I’ll come over on that side.

Me: No, this is Josie’s spot. She is coming over here even as I speak. Did you notice her silhouette climb down from the cat-tree by the window? She saw I was awake, too.

Renn: This spot is free.

Me: It’s Josie’s spot. She always likes to lie on the bed’s near side.

Renn: I can lie there, too.

Me: No, Renn. You know that Josie doesn’t like other cats being so close. Move back.

Renn: I’ll stay here.

Me: But you’re not staying there, Renn. You are moving closer.

Renn: Purr…purr…purr…

Me: Move…back…Renn… Hello, Josie. It’s all right. Lie down. It’s just Renn. Lie down, Josie. Lie down, Josie. Lie down, Josie. It’s just Renn. Lie down— Just a minute. Move over here, Renn. On this side. Lie down, Renn. Lie down, Josie. Lie down. Lie down.

Renn: I’ll lie here on this side.

Me: That’s a good idea. Josie can then have her favourite side. Move back, Josie. You’re claws are puncturing my skin when you knead.

Josie: I like you.

Me: I like you, too, Josie. Renn, you’re right up against me; you’ve pulled the blanket so tight I can’t move.

Renn: Purr…purr…purr…

Me: Josie, you’re right up against me; you’ve pulled the blanket so tight I can’t move.

Josie: Purr…purr…purr…

Me: What time is it? Fifteen to three. Plenty of time left until I have to get up. Not as much as there was, but still plenty. Good night, everyone.

Renn: Good night.

Josie: Good night.

Me: Who’s that? Oh, hello, Tucker. Give me some room, Tucker. I can’t move.

Tucker: Purr…purr…purr…

Me: Good night, everyone…

Sympathy for the Under-cat

While I can’t assert that any of my cats likes any other, they do tolerate each other, most of the time, and once in a while, they actually play, sort of.

Cammie enjoys startling the other cats, especially Tucker. I think I have written of this before: the princess zooming through the nylon tunnel while the roly poly one is on the far side. I will hear the sound of something rushing through the tunnel, and come into the sitting room in time to see Tucker crouched down, staring at Cammie, while the latter is turning away with a smug air.

Now and then, Tucker gets his own back. I don’t think he plans it. Unlike Cammie, who sees Tucker in the right place and sneaks over to where she can begin her zoom, Tucker usually just finds himself with an opportunity. I was coming out of the store-room the other evening and heard the unmistakable sound of the princess hissing, followed by a quick growl. The hiss alone normally indicates that another cat is passing too closely to Cammie - say, within a quarter-mile. The growl declares a particular annoyance, perhaps even outrage.

I came out of the store-room to see Cammie twisted about, glowering at Tucker from a distance of several yards. Tucker was behind the base of the cylinder-house cat-tree. The series of events became clear to me at once. Cammie had passed between the cat-tree and the wall, undoubtedly to avoid the roly poly, who was likely lying near by. Tucker, seeing his chance, hurried over, or simply reached out, and smacked Cammie on her flank. I’d seen him do it before. My Siamese cat, startled, jumped away, but turned as soon as she landed to give voice to her shock and anger. Tucker’s expression was of innocence.

I could not commiserate in good faith with the offended animal. She had done something similar to Tucker many times, and should have expected retribution at some point. I did stroke her fuzzy head to calm her. But then I petted Tucker and told him he was a ‘good boy’. I try not to take sides but sometimes I must sympathise with the under-cat.

Everyday Gratitude

Another Thanksgiving Day is upon us, and I find myself once more thankful for many things. Most of them are ordinary, every-day things, which, in a way, makes them even more worthy of gratitude. After all, I not only have a home, my health and friends, but I have them every day. While it may be the unusual that makes life exciting, it is the normal, the routine that make life, period. And since my life is much better than many other lives, I am grateful for it, and for the routine things in it.

I hope everyone reading this – and everyone not reading it – has much more in their lives for which to be thankful than not. If so, then I am thankful for that, too.

A Stab at Advocacy

I try not to advertise on my blog, or perhaps I should write advocate, especially for one rescue-group or another, with the exception of the one to which I belong, the Lethbridge PAW Society. I hope you will excuse the bias in that case. Most rescue-groups are doing a good job in a good cause, especially those whose blogs I have read; showcasing one above another would be invidious.

But I would like to draw attention to one rescuer whose blog I have been following for a while. She lives in the United States, in a district that does not seem favourably disposed to rescue or to stray animals in general. Mary Anne doesn’t receive a great deal of attention from readers, but nonetheless does much excellent work, rescuing cats and finding them loving homes. She has a few volunteers and foster-homes under her direction, but mostly, hers is a one-woman show. Recently, the local business which donated most of her cat-food and litter came under new management and ended the generous arrangement. Consequently, Mary Anne has been scrambling to find new sources of necessary supplies.

If you have a moment, visit her blog and offer a kind word or two. I know that money is in short supply these days, and that what surplus we have for donations is usually already claimed. But if you can spare something for her cause, I know she would be grateful. Donations don’t have to be organised close at hand these days, so if you are in mind to provide a regular gift, or - more practically - know of someone or some business that could be so persuaded, that too would be welcome. Her group, CATS Inc., is a registered charity - details may be found on her website (http://www.feralcatbehavior.com) - and monetary donations may be made through PayPal. Her blog is, as well, interesting and informative.

Thank you for indulging me in this. I now return you to your regularly scheduled cats.

Good News From Echo

I don’t have a new photograph to show everyone, but I wanted to write that my recent foster-kitten, Echo, is being adopted.

She left my apartment to go to a house where she would be living as a foster-cat with another, older cat named Vinny. He was not a foster himself, as I initially believed, but has been adopted. He and Echo hit it off so well and so swiftly that they will be staying together. Evidently, Echo was a success with her foster-guardian, too. I hope to see some pictures of them together, but I know that by the second week, they were grooming each other, and Vinny was no longer alarmed when the tiny bundle of energy jumped on him.

Everything has worked out for Echo, thank goodness; right things happened at the right time. She will, barring some terrible circumstances, live out a long and happy life with a caring little family. I was lucky to know her for the short time I did, and lucky to be a part of finding her a home.