The Once and Future Sin

Eight years ago – was it as long ago as that? – Tucker came to live with me, returned to the rescue-group after five years with a family because he was wetting where he shouldn’t. After a couple of instances of that in my home, he ceased it. Now, it has begun again.

I blame Parker. In fact, I do think it is the orange-boy’s fault, though inadvertent nonetheless. Tucker simply doesn’t like the foster-cat. To show this, he uses the litter-box in the library, which is where Parker is sequestered when I am absent or asleep. Actually, Tucker wets in front of the box. I have a soaker-pad in the spot for that reason, but the roly poly usually hits its edge.

There are three reactions I intend to have in response to this: one is to make an appointment with the veterinary and have Tucker examined for infections, etc. I do not believe he is suffering from anything physical. I think his wetting, considering its location, is due to his resentment of Parker. Two, I will buy a larger soaker-pad, to cover more area. Three, I will put away the library’s litter-box when Parker is not in there to use it. Puck will use the general boxes in the store-room. Number three has a risk attached to it: I want to leave nothing there to encourage Tucker to wet in that location, which means removing not just the litter-box but the soaker-pad in front of it. If Tucker still wets there, he will hit the carpet, damage which the soaker-pad was meant to avoid.

But Tucker is branching out. A couple of days ago, the roly poly wet in one of my shoes. That's right. Why he chose to do that, I don't know, though it may have to do with my wearing of those shoes when I take Parker for walks. They have orange-cat-smell on them now. Sigh. I must admit that, considering he's had a perineal urethrostomy, his aim is pretty good; he didn't get any outside the shoe. If I were a different sort of cat-owner, I'd return him. As it is, I'll keep my shoes up on boxes.

The Lonely Food-bowl

The outsider-cats’ food-bowl must be feeling rather lonely these days, and that has me worried. It’s been a week since I have seen Sable and Sablette, and previously they were frequent visitors.

I last saw them July 21. It was after dark, and I had already taken in the food-bowl for the night. Sable came to the window of my bedroom and squeaked, to let me know that she and her sister were there, but the food was not. Before I could bring out the hard-food, as requested, there was a ruckus at the far end of the apartment building; it sounded as if a cat was being attacked. I saw one of the two sisters running from that direction. She stopped near my apartment and did not look or act injured.

Nevertheless, when I delivered the food, Sable and Sablette ran off, in different directions. That was the last I have seen of them. No one has been by my ditch to sample the food or water, except a skunk, who has come to slake his thirst, and leave the water-bowl tipped at an angle. (The food is taken in to discourage his visits.) I have not seen Au Lait/Blue or Vincent, or any of the others who have come by from time to time.

I am most worried about Sable and Sablette. The other cats are known to go to another resident’s food-bowls for nutrition, but the two black cats do not. They had become accustomed to me, and to being watched by my beasts, an observation which does not bother them. But in a week, the sisters have not come by.

Brown Becomes Blue

There is a cat I’ve named Au Lait whom I’ve seen about the apartment building lately. I’ve mentioned him previously. He came to drink from the outside water-bowl recently. I have since learned that he is known to another resident in the building, who has named him Blue, because of his eye-colour.

Blue has been visiting the other resident for a while, and eats there from time to time. Blue is a bit aggressive with the other cats, and has not been neutered. I and my fellow resident have discussed getting Blue fixed, but the logistics of that operation may be difficult. He does not like being touched. We will continue to work on a plan.

Blue (Au Lait what was) seems a confident, strong fellow, able to take care of himself in the wild. Nonetheless, he is welcome at the outside food- and water-bowls. It never hurts to have a place to come to for support when all else fails. It’s something from which we would all benefit, I think.

Bravery, and Its Limits

Wednesday night this past week, we had a tremendous thunder-storm here; in fact, we had two, or one that re-charged itself and came back. The first lasted a long time for such storms, about an hour and a half, with lightning and thunder throughout, and a downpour of rain. I have written about the beasts’ reactions to thunder previously, but things have changed a little.

Cammie is less inclined to hide during a storm. I suspect that she is still frightened of such meteorological upheavals, but she shows it less. Last night, she didn’t seek shelter from the storm until it was half over. Then it seemed to prove too much for her. But she came out again soon afterward, bravely lying on her towel by my desk in the bedroom. However, a particularly loud burst of thunder, the sort that rattles panes in window-frames, sent her under the bed.

Renn, despite his size, is not a combatant. He prefers to crouch behind the bed, with either his head or just his nose under it. When I talk encouragingly to him, he stands up and walks about with his tail up and his back arched. He’s not afraid - until I stop talking to him.

Tucker remained in the open, but wary. The roly poly apparently put up a toy as a small barricade, just in case the thunder broke into the house.

Josie was largely untroubled, and when the big bang of thunder shook the building, she ran out into the sitting room, as if to question what was going on. She never did hide, though.

And Parker… My orange-boy didn’t even acknowledge the storm. It was almost his bed-time, which meant a snack before retiring. His mind was entirely upon that. The apartment could have been inundated with lava, and Puck’s principal worry would have been that it would cut him off from his food-bowl.

I like thunder-storms, especially at night. I always have. But now I find that I spend them walking among the cats, telling them that everything is all right, that what they hear is just noise, and that nothing will hurt them. I don’t think they believe me, really. And Parker thinks such encouragement is distracting me from giving him his food.

Just So I Won't Forget

Parker has been remarkably polite about demanding, er, sorry, asking for his walks. I have mentioned that he does cry at the door several times each evening, but relaxes his attentions when I tell him “no”. Wednesday night, he accepted my promise that we would go out after I had done some writing for about an hour. He thereupon decided both to remind me that he was waiting and to make sure I didn’t evade my responsibilities by slipping away without him.

This was my perspective, as I wrote.

He did the same thing last evening. The orange boy was remarkably patient, quiet for the whole hour, both days. He does enjoy his walks, but then I enjoy watching him enjoy them, so it works out for both of us.

Adah at Ten - Weeks, That Is

Little Adah is about ten weeks old now. Her ringworm is still with her, but is receding. Her treatment is continuing, and will for a while. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to offer her for adoption for some time yet. The rescue-group with which I work will be facilitating the adoption of the kittens with Adah. Except for the diminishing fungus, they are all healthy.

Adah now weighs 1.02 kilograms. Two other kittens weigh about the same, while another pair are heavier at about 1.3 kilograms. But Adah has put on weight, is assertive and strong, and has grown into her ears somewhat.

I visited them a few days ago, and returned with photographs. Most of mine did not turn out, as the kittens were active, running about, playing and generally not standing still. The pictures I took are not as good as those taken by a friend who was with me. Her images are the superior ones and look like portraits, and so they will be used. Along with re-newing your acquaintance with our girl, please meet Harold and Buddy, Lady, and Adah’s pal, Tucker.

This is Adah now.

Harold.

Buddy, who looks much like Harold but whose white forehead blaze is broader.

Lady.

Tucker.

Adah wrestling with either Harold or Buddy.

Adah and Buddy

Adah, with Tucker pretending to kill Harold. We think he’s pretending…

Things are progressing well and, though it is disappointing that their treatment will keep the kittens from being open for adoption at their current age, we figure they will be available before they are four months old. Also, Miss Mew, the doting surrogate-mother, is now relieved of nursing duties. Though she misses her foster-kittens, she will be able to receive greater doses of anti-ringworm medicine more often, and therefore will recover more quickly. She is already well on the way to recovered health.