A Test of Life

The cats are becoming more touchy-feely. Readers may recall my mention of how Indigo likes to put her paw on my face, nose or mouth while she is lying next to me on the bed at night. Now, Imogen does it.

Her preferred time is when I relax - rather too much - for a few minutes after dinner. I sit on the couch and Miss Silky often climbs onto my lap. Because I never get enough sleep during the night, I am, by this time, frequently tired enough to nod off. When I close my eyes, Imo puts her paw on my face.

I am beginning to wonder if I appear more dead than merely unconscious when I sleep, and the cats are making sure that I will still be there to feed them later.

The Cat Under the Stairs

When it comes to playing, a cat not only thinks that every item is a potential toy, but every item is a potential playground. I’ve seen Brazil, Valkyrie, even Imogen, burrow under the small set of stairs by the sitting room couch. And of course if they do it, then the Mixer isn’t going to disdain it. As hefty as he is, Moxy can disappear under the steps - even if he chooses at times not to vanish all together…

Confusion In Our Corner of the World

There was consternation in the Cosy Cabin last night. Snack-time for the beasts has been at seven o’clock for about a decade. (It once was a smaller meal than dinner or breakfast; hence the term ‘snack’. It has since become little different than the others.) I decided to alter that.

One of the reasons is to find time for more writing. One wouldn’t think that taking care of eight cats, working full-time, having to scoop litter-boxes at least thrice a day, keeping the floors and walls clean of debris, and working with the rescue-group, would take up much of one’s time. Yet it does. And I have recently found that opportunities to do anything that isn’t actual work are limited. One of the problems is interruptions. After eating my own dinner, washing dishes, answering rescue-group correspondence and the general round of post-prandial cleaning, I have had about half an hour to myself before snack-time. When one wants to concentrate on writing, just beginning where one left off the previous day takes some minutes; it’s not like flipping a switch to the ‘on’ position. In other words, the amount of time available doesn’t make an effort worthwhile. Do you remember when you were a child and it took fifteen minutes for mum to dress you in all the warm clothes she thought necessary for half an hour’s play in the snow? Yeah, like that.

After snack-time (and its attendant cleaning, packing up and box-scooping), I have perhaps another half-hour for myself. This is frequently rendered pointless for the same reasons as the earlier thirty minute period.

I decided, therefore, to move snack-time back by an hour. This gives me, theoretically, a longer period, undivided by cat-related business, to do as I wish. Then, instead of another uselessly small opportunity afterward, I go straight into showering and preparing everything for the next day’s morning.

A later snack-time also allows me to eliminate the ‘little bit’ that I was giving to Brazil at about nine o’clock. That seems unfair to him but, because the other cats were seeing that I was offering him a morsel at that time, they were demanding their own. It felt unjust to exclude others who wanted something, and thus, it was threatening to become a fourth meal-time, with all its consequent work. Food served an hour later keeps everyone from feeling peckish longer.

This brings me back to the first sentence of this entry. Though it may be alleged that cats cannot actually read a clock (analogue or digital), they can certainly tell time, and at seven o’clock, the beasts began acting up, talking, moving about and swirling about my legs. These distractions reduced the efficiency of the extra time available for writing, but did not destroy it. The distractions will also diminish over the next week, as the inmates become accustomed to the later snack-time. But they were displeased at what was perceived to be my tardiness last night. While telling time is within their abilities, understanding actual schedules is beyond the endurance of their patience.

I expect a few more days of consternation before the new norms are accepted.

Kids These Days

Imogen and Valkyrie play sometimes, but only when Imogen wants. She will exchange whaps with the younger cat and rush at her; that’s all good fun. But when Valk pursues Imo, it’s a different story. Then the youngster is an annoyance, and why can’t she act her age and leave her elders alone?

You In There?

Hey, human, it’s me, Valkyrie. Are you in there? What movie are you watchin’? Is it about treats? I like treats. I’ll open the door. I think I can almost reach the knob...

The Forgotten Vitamins and Minerals

I am told that sometimes a cat will chew on something that is giving her nutrition that she is missing. Today, Valkyrie decided that she needs the dirty plastic taste and old-metal tang that only a door-stop could provide.

The Calls of the Wild

Cutting cats’ claws isn’t usually an ordeal, though it often depends on the cat, and sometimes it depends on the audience.

I tried to have some privacy to cut Indigo’s claws. She didn’t like the process and started complaining. Apparently Moxy heard this and came into the room, making his characteristic diminuendoes. This attracted Sable, who trotted up to the Mixer giving voice to her own hooting sounds. Valkyrie hurried in from somewhere; she dislikes Indie and began wailing at her. All of this caused Indigo further stress, and she cried and growled even more. I managed to cut all of her claws, but it was like sunset in the jungle, with every animal having his say before bedtime.

Next time, I’ll just close the door.

A Cruel Cut

It’s claw-trimming time again at the Cosy Cabin. I am fortunate in that I am able to cut the claws of seven of the eight cats living with me (Sable being the exception). There is resistance - squirming, fidgeting, twisting - but nothing serious; certainly no cat enjoys it. But I can accomplish the task.

First up was Millie. I had to pause between cutting the claws of the different paws, as it was too much for her patience. She became rather growly after each paw was finished. In fact, when I completed the first paw, she walked away in a huff, then turned, came back and slapped my hand.

Maybe they’ll appreciate me more when they move out, get jobs and places of their own…

The Food Campaign

Valkyrie’s liquid poop continues. The various kinds of food the veterinary recommended did not help. She only ate one of them - the others were not to her liking - and it had no effect on her. Neither did Metamucil help - it was intended to firm up her stool   though I was able to feed that to her without difficulty, hidden in her food. The doctor was reluctant to prescribe antibiotics, as they would have adverse side-effects; as well, there seems to be nothing other than her feces’ condition that would indicate an infection. A probiotic cannot be given to Valk in an amount large enough to have an effect: she doesn’t mind it, but won’t eat anything with too much of it included.

Since she is otherwise appearing healthy - still very active, bright, alert and playful - it may be that Valkyrie has developed an allergy. First, I tried reducing the amount of fish that she consuming but that too had no effect. Now, I am attempting to eliminate chicken from her diet. If that is the culprit, a week’s starvation of chicken should show a result.

The initial step is finding something without chicken that she likes to eat. Most of the flavours of food that she does enjoy have in them chicken or a component of unidentified origin, such as ‘meat by-product’ or ‘liver’. This means buying the more expensive, more specific brands. So far, the only one out of several that she likes is Fussie Cat tuna-and-mussels. Trying to test her preferences means finding what she will eat before actually keeping her on that diet, so it will be a while yet before this new meal plan creates results - if it does at all. In the meantime, of course, I must still feed this long, slender cat what she will eat.

Too Close for Olfactory Comfort

As readers may recall, Indigo has taken to sleeping on the bed each night, very close to my face. This has not been much of a problem until last night. I think she may have thrown up somewhere, or had some sort of acid reflux episode. Her breath was terrible. It was so bad that I couldn’t stand to have her near. Regretfully, I had to push her away. I hated doing that, for she had no idea why she was being shunned. Having to tell a friend she has stinky breath is bad enough. When she can’t understand what you tell her, it’s impossible.

Inside Discipline

Sable hasn’t come back onto the bed at night. For the most part, she likes to lie on the window sill in the dark, and catch the scents that the air brings her. Perhaps it makes her melancholy for the old days of her freedom. Perhaps she smells something dangerous, and is glad she can relax inside. I don’t know.

I do know that she is responding to me more. She likes to pick at the window from time to time. I am unsure if it is the screen - since I never find any damage when I inspect it - or the frame, but I don’t want to take the chance. Therefore, when I hear her do that, I speak her name warningly. She stops. When she keeps doing it, I have to speak more sternly. Then, she stops and lies down. I can almost hear her sigh, her fun ended by her captor.

Being a housecat can be enjoyable - but it takes some getting used to.

Another Step

Sable took another step forward last night. I woke about 12.30 and, on my way to the facilities, I noticed a fourth cat on the bed. Usually, there is Imogen on the near side by my head and Indigo on the far side, also by my head, and Moxy by my feet. This time, there was another cat curled up next to the Mixer. At first, I thought it was Valkyrie. Indistinct in the darkness, the form nonetheless looked too large for Valk, so I switched on the light. It was Sable.

This is the first time she has been on the bed while I was in it. Alas, my disturbance of her slumber caused her to drop to the floor. But she has not yet retraced steps she has once taken. I hope and expect her new night-time position will be, if not regular, then at least common. We’ll see.

The Culprit

I have a set of 1928 Encyclopaedia Britannica. They are in very good condition, for century-old books. I like to read through them when I have a few minutes, rather than reading a more involved narrative for such a short time. I have learned a great deal from them. I have often left the volumes lying about, on the dining table for instance. They have not suffered injury.

Yesterday, however, I came home to find this.

The volume had been on the table and closed, but someone flipped open the back cover and tore the last page completely out of the book. I don’t know who it was, but I have my suspicions.

I have strong suspicions.

I have very strong suspicions.

Close Friends

Brazil and Moxy were in the cat-room. They both like the two cat-trees there, but Millie was in one. This was their solution.

Back From the Hospital

Indigo and Millie went to the veterinary hospital today.

Millie had not been to see a doctor for the whole time that she had been with her previously adoptive person. Fortunately, except for her teeth, she is in very good shape for a ten year old. Her teeth have quite a bit of tartar and plaque, and will definitely need to be cleaned. Whether any need to come out will be determined when the procedure is under way, and more can be observed. Mills handled herself well, was a little anxious but curious, and let the doctor do whatever was necessary.

Indigo was there for a fructosamine test. This demonstrated that though her glucose numbers are a little high, over all, she is receiving the proper amount of insulin. I was surprised at that, and will keep an eye on any indications that things are changing. She has gained a little weight since her last veterinary visit, which is contrary to mismanaged diabetes. Indie is, like Millie, ten years old. The doctor was shown why I have not been able to test Indigo’s glucose numbers at home, Indie being quite fidgety and a little defiant during the examination.

Both girls were pleased to come back to the Cosy Cabin, where they were given a soft-food treat for their troubles. I had anticipated that Millie would be off her food due to the vaccinations she received, and that reaction may yet come. So far, though, she has been unaffected.