Who They Are Becoming

What creates a personality? A little incident? A big trauma? Heredity? A slight mutation in the genes? That argument will probably never be resolved. But I know now that personalities develop early. The Tempos are showing theirs more and more.

Presto probably decided on his own to be first-born, because he always seems to want to know what’s in the next room. He climbed his way onto the bed this afternoon to find Indigo. Indie didn’t care for the newcomer and made that clear. Yet later, when she had to meet him again, along with Vivace, Indigo’s reaction was more restrained. I hope it will continue in that vein. Vivace isn’t far behind her brother in curiosity and bravery, though she is more likely to remain with what she finds, rather than go on to the next thing.

Meanwhile, Andante is demonstrating that he is a thinker. He found the track-ball toy. At first, he was puzzled by it. He sniffed it and pushed at the white ball. Soon, he realised that the ball moved in its groove. He spent about fifteen minutes playing with it, though instead of remaining outside the toy and knocking the ball about, he is small enough to run after it within the groove…

Allegro so far is the average cat, neither very brave nor very wary. I expect he will become his own cat soon. Little Largo, in the meantime, is a toughie. When it comes to family wrestling sessions, his siblings have learned that he is no push-over. He is also a bit more of a loner than the others. He did spend a couple of others alone in the womb, and maybe thought it not a bad situation. This may account for his trailing after the others in their explorations.

Fortunately, they all have become very friendly toward me, and I can start them purring pretty easily. This bodes well for them adapting to new humans. Nonetheless, even kittens have their limits, and after an hour intense playing downstairs, and another hour discovering new lands upstairs, they slept. And how.

Like Water in a Leaky Bowl

It’s surprising sometimes how disaster can be averted by a narrow margin. It’s surprising how a disaster can be in preparation for such a long time without a clue coming to those who live amongst it. No one was hurt in the making of this story, but it might have turned out differently.

As readers may know, Millie lives most of her life in the cat-room. She does come out into the rest of the house for short forays. She will snooze beside me when I take a nap on the weekends. But one of the reasons why I am so pleased at the prospect of her being adopted is that her life is quite restricted at the moment, due to her dislike of the other beasts. She will be going to her new home in about a month’s time, barring accidents. And one of those accidents almost occurred.

The other cats sometimes visit the cat-room. I don’t care for keeping them out all the time, because it’s part of their home, after all. Yet each time they go in, it undoubtedly bothers Millie. Sable and Indigo visit to eat the food, which apparently tastes better in the cat-room than anywhere else. Brazil visits to look out the windows, as does Moxie.

Moxie is a dense, heavy cat, and when he climbs things, such as cat-trees, especially in a hurry, he can add weight to them that makes them top-heavy. A few days ago, I was sitting in the bedroom when I heard a heavy thud from the cat-room. Before I entered, the Mixer ran out. Inside, I saw one of the cat-trees - the saddle-topped cat-tree, Cammie’s old favourite - on the floor. Moxie had jumped on to it, perhaps leaping from the couch, off to the side, and had caused it to fall. That was less important than how or where it fell.

It landed on the suitcase-house cat-bed, where Mills often lies, and where she almost always lies when other cats are in the room. The suitcase-house cat-bed was not flattened, but one of the posts that supports the saddle-topped cat-tree’s saddle top, was lying on it, squishing it. Millie was still in the cat-bed. As I lifted the cat-tree off the bed, she hurried out, her tail floofed.

After holding her and running my hands over her body, I could tell that she was not hurt, at least not badly. She would have been lying flat in the bed, and the way the tree had fallen would have crushed the top of the cat-bed onto her back, but as flat as she had been, she would probably have felt little but a cushioned pressure. However, as may be seen in the photograph below - a reconstruction of what was seen at the time - if the saddle-top, which in fact prevented the post from continuing to the floor, had been the part of the tree that had landed on the suitcase-house-cat-bed, things might have been very different.

Needless to write, the furniture in the cat-room has been changed a little, and another item now prevents the saddle-topped cat-tree from falling completely to the floor. Millie is unhurt and active; she was bouncing about the cat-room last night in full vigour. I am grateful that disaster was averted. Sometimes it seems as though such dangers are like water in a leaky bowl: if there is a crack, the water will find it, and one doesn’t always see the crack before it starts leaking.

Mixer Magic: When Cat Meets Kitten

Meetings between the perma-cats and the Tempos have begun. Last night, they met Moxie, and the Mixer enhanced his reputation as a fellow friendly to all.

In the presence of her mother, Rhapsody, Vivace encountered the big fat-head. She had actually met him briefly on the weekend, when Viv puffed up and hissed a bit, but nonetheless braved proximity to Moxie. Yesterday, though, there was more interaction, mutual sniffing, and a prolonged examination of the kitten by the adult from nose to tail. As may be seen, Rho was unconcerned with the moment.

Next came Presto. True to his emerging personality, he took a lead in exploring the upstairs and was not worried by the giant feline who lived there. Moxie seemed to keep an eye on Presto’s parent, though, just in case.

Even little Largo, who is showing reluctance to cut the apron strings, was excited by the prospect of a new world opening up, and didn’t show any concern about Moxie. The latter appears to exude an amiability that the kittens have picked up on.

Sable was another matter, however. She preferred not, thank you. Presto ventured close to her, but some warnings, including a hiss, told him that there were plenty of other things to discover in the sitting room… As long as she encounters the kittens one at a time, Sable’s reaction will, I think, remain measured. A couple of whaps may be needed to get her attitude across, but I foresee nothing more harmful.

Eventually, Moxie found that the kittens just kept coming; more and more of them. In the end, he retreated to the tall cat-tree in the sitting room. He had provoked minor anger from Rhapsody when one of the Tempos touched him unexpectedly from behind. He started, giving one of the grunts he always gives when surprised, and lurched forward. Rho was taken unawares and slapped him. But other than that, the Mixer’s magic worked again, and made for a successful evening.

Black Cat, White Whisker

I noticed on the weekend that one of Imogen’s whiskers was white. It might be a new whisker or one already in place that changed colour. Her age, based on the estimate of her years when she first saw the veterinary, is seven; she is far from old. In any case, I don’t know that whiskers change colour the way that hair and fur does, with age.

No matter; Miss Silky has an odd whisker, which is sometimes hard to make out because her other, black, whiskers shine in the light. But she seems a little pleased at its presence nonetheless.

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

The birthing bed remains in the library; it is useful for holding the kittens for a few seconds if I need a very brief respite from their attentions while I am cleaning. If I put more than one in there simultaneously, they may fall to wrestling and buy me more time. For the most part, though it certainly served us well, the birthing bed is just another playground.

But the Tempos are clever little beings. They don’t just use the space of the birthing bed. There is a drain in the bed’s side - for when washing it becomes necessary, I suppose - with a screw-on cap. At some point, the kittens managed to remove the cap. Yes, they eventually unscrewed a cap. Now, the hole of the drain has become a toy.

You can see here that Presto and Andante have invented a sort of blind fisticuffs. What astonished me was the length of Presto’s foreleg. That’s how long a kitten’s foreleg is when fully extended. It’s no wonder a cat’s jumping ability is so impressive: those stubby little limbs are like coiled springs.

Also, Andante has learned to hide and then rush the library door when I open it, in an attempt to escape, and last night, I saw him scratching at the door’s lower hinge. For all I know, he has determined that the door is held in place by a pin, and if the pin is removed, the door can be taken off.

You can’t make this stuff up.

The New Universe

The Tempos were released from the library for the first time this weekend. I took the precaution of locking away Indigo, Imogen and Millie in the bedroom and cat-room; the last two would probably show hostility to the kittens - not aggression, but hissing and growling that would frighten the babies. Those adults can meet the youngsters later. The other upstairs cats were snoozing in the sitting room, and I would watch for them waking. Thus, the upper floor was cleared for little explorers.

I noticed that Rhapsody had not wanted to come upstairs with the door to the library closed. I wanted her to come up for a change of scenery, but did not want to have to worry about the kittens. Mum, on the other hand, worried about them when the library door was shut. So I took the precautions detailed in the first paragraph, and left the library door open.

The Tempos wasted no time in finding the portal to the new universe. They climbed the stairs like experienced mountaineers - though at one point, Presto fell, and tumbled down the stairs in imitation of a Slinky. He was unhurt.

The interest the kittens have in the slippers I habitually wear indoors became fascination with my outdoor shoes: so full of outlandish smells, no doubt. That doesn’t explain why they tried eating them.

But once at the top of the stairs, the real adventures began. The babies were like archaeologists, finding all sorts of intriguing artefacts.

And Andante discovered a human litter-box.

I will reprise these opportunities on other days, though I will have to determine how to introduce the perma-cats to the Tempos sooner, rather than later. That will be my particular challenge.

Snoozing in Black and White

It’s a rarity that the two black cats here will lie close to each other. Imogen generally doesn’t like other felines near her. But she is more tolerant of some than of others. Here, Miss Silky and Sable are enjoying Saturday afternoon together, more or less. The Eastside Cats aren’t the only ones with tandem black snoozers.

No Escape

Rhapsody’s means of escaping periodically from the babies are becoming fewer. The Tempos can now all climb up onto the couch. Some, like Presto, claw their way up, while others, like Vivace, jump first, using their claws top stick half-way up like they were made of Velcro. As a result, Rho has been seen on the cat-tree and even on the top of the bookcases. How long will it be until the kittens find those refuges, too?

Mum Smells Funny

Rhapsody went to the veterinary hospital today. There was nothing wrong with her; she needed her long-delayed initial vaccinations and de-worming. The latter probably wasn’t necessary; I have seen no evidence that it was required, but it won’t hurt, and since she spent some weeks or months outside, it is best to take precautions.

The visit was actually uneventful. Her weight is good for her condition. It is down from when she was last on the scales, but that was when she was in the middle of her pregnancy. She needs to rebuild her poundage, but that will happen, especially after the kittens are done nursing, which should be soon. Everything else about her was satisfactory.

When she came home, though, it appeared that her children realised that Rho had been somewhere unusual. Not to stress the point too much, but they thought mum smelled funny…

At Home With the Tempos

This is a two-minute home movie of the Tempos at play. You’ll notice a number of things going on. One that I found interesting is Allegro’s instinct to ‘cover up’ food he doesn’t want to eat for the moment (it all disappeared later); it is already well-developed at five weeks. Someone apparently was trying to hunt sunlight. Parents know when to make the most of an opportunity. The birthing bed presents no barriers now. At the start, both Allegro and Andante were being good boys and using a litter-box for its purpose. Presto tries to climb the foster-guardian; not the latter’s purpose. And on the library’s flooring, little kittens sound like ponies when they trot.

Fifteen minutes later, all the babies were asleep in their beds.

I Have Twelve Cats

The kittens are officially kittens. You know, at that stage where they run (well, sort of lope like bunnies), jump, climb, wrestle, chase and get everywhere. Periodically, I see them resting, but when they see me, they usually get up and hurry over to me. I think Rhapsody would prefer me not to visit, because every time I do, the kittens become active.

There are fewer places in the library that are out of their reach now. Vivace and Presto climb onto the couch often, and the birthing bed is a play-pen now, a play-pen that the players can climb in and out of with little difficulty. While cleaning up the room, I sometimes put the kittens in the birthing bed as they interfere with my work. That diverts them only so long.

They are using the litter-boxes extensively. I think each is leaving his or her deposit in the boxes, but one or two are still going outside. I don’t know that that is a problem more than simply not knowing that they should go in the boxes every time. Realising that one can use the box is quite different than realising one should. I am confident that that too is a phase. (Presto evidently thought he was ready for the big-time...)

And the cause of their pooping - eating solid-food - is also progressing apace. My main worry in this case is that while I know each has eaten, I can’t be sure each is eating enough. Sometimes, Rho will eat the kittens’ food, not knowing that it isn’t for her. I can’t isolate her from the kittens while they eat, since they don’t all eat right away, and she would have to be separated until they ate, which is not feasible. The babies’ energy levels suggest that each is receiving enough nutrition from somewhere.

Somewhere still includes their mother. She is nursing much less often. I suspect that instinct is telling her not to give the children so many opportunities. But, good mother that she is, she will allow them to nurse whenever they start, wherever she may be.

The brood is now half-way toward the day they can be adopted, and I think Rhapsody is growing more ready for that all the time. Parenting isn’t easy. Whether mother or father, it’s hard work with little glory, and not much more recognition. The scene depicted below enacts itself a billion times a day, in a million species, in every country on Earth. Soon, though, Rho will be free to be herself again, and interact with others in the Cosy Cabin - and have more than one room to do it in.

It could be worse, I tell her. She could have twelve cats, not just five.