Trouble for Tucker

This past week has been a troubling one for Tucker. The visit to the veterinarian went well, and Tucker returned with fewer teeth and a good chance for healthier gums. Later came a problem.

Tucker has always been sensitive. When he first came to live with me, he became despondent and refused to eat or drink for four or five days, having to be force-fed during that time. He eventually recovered and became a happy cat who seemed to enjoy his new home and roommates.

I had expected trouble because of this sensitivity but it took a form that surprised me. In his anxiety, he started cleaning a portion of his rear end, and cleaned it so often and so vigorously that the fur was worn off of it, and the skin beneath became raw. I didn’t notice it until a few days into the problem. 

In response, he was equipped with a funnel-shaped collar, to prevent any more attentions to the area, and some ointment, called Hibitane. The past few days have been unpleasant for Tucker. At first, I refrained from putting the cone on him overnight, so he could have a decent rest, but he tended to abuse the privilege and continued to lick himself. Now, he wears the cone all day and all night, except for a few minutes under my direct supervision, when I give him some relief from it. He can’t drink properly when the cone is on, nor can he groom himself, so I take it off for a little while in the evenings, as long as he doesn't try to lick where he shouldn't. When he eats, the poor boy looks like a vacuum cleaner.

In the meantime, he is unhappy. The cone often creates a state of semi-paralysis in which he will lie still, facing a wall or a piece of furniture. When he started to move after the first time the cone went on, all I heard was clunk...clunk...clunk...as he crashed into one object after another. His whiskers and peripheral vision have been neutralized.

However, he is making efforts. He has even ventured downstairs, which is hazardous with the cone. He came into the bathroom Saturday night while the tub was filling. That’s usually Tungsten’s time to spend with me, but the new boy wandered in (clunk...scrape...clunk) and the orange one actually tolerated him lying next to her. Then Renn came in to watch the water run...

Tucker goes to the veterinarian again on Wednesday, because the Hibitane prescribed has proved ineffective. I think the anxiety over visiting the doctor the last time is gone, and the drive to lick where he shouldn’t is now physical for Tucker. I hope that that will repeat itself, so that once a new medicine clears up the raw spot, Tucker won’t feel the need to attend to it any more.

In the meantime, the other cats are doing well, though no doubt wondering why their newest roommate has a big funnel on his head.

Into the New Year

The new year has begun. Everyone here at the house finished the old year in good spirits. Christmas is being (present tense, as we’ve not finished the Twelve Days yet) kind to us, bringing gifts, food and tranquility (the latter being as important as anything, in a household with four animals). The cats received many presents (more than I did, in fact!), toys that they enjoy playing with, whether with me or by themselves.

Not everyone has entered the new year in good health, however. Tucker is scheduled for a dental operation on 7th January. He has some teeth which must be removed; the rest need cleaning. The veterinarian explained that his bad teeth may have been hurting him for some time. Cats do not show pain readily – though the slighter forms of discomfort certainly bring out protests fast enough. Tucker has never been reticent about eating, whether soft food or hard; I hope that’s a sign that he has not been bothered too much by his teeth.

He will go for his operation early in the morning and return to the house in the late afternoon. I’m not sure what to expect. The first time Tungsten had to have a tooth removed, she came back rather stunned, and sat on her food mat for the rest of the day. She had trouble chewing hard food and I felt bad at how frustrated she would become trying. But at last she found an alternative place in her mouth to crunch the kernels, and she recovered well. The second time she went, she behaved as if she had gone for nothing more than an exam, despite having had another tooth removed. She chewed her hard food that same night, with apparently no difficulty.

Tucker was very despondent when he first came to stay with me, and I always worry that that reaction may repeat itself after a tramautic time. However, he, and the other cats, survived the move to the new house with no bother at all, and when he comes back from the surgery, he will be returning to a familiar setting, which I believe he likes, and to familiar roommates. I hope that those factors make all the difference. Even so, he will be sore, possibly ill from the anaesthetic and probably just plain out of sorts. A contrast with Tungsten that will aid his recovery, though, is that Tungsten’s taste for soft food is mild. She eats it, but rarely consumes everything in her dish. Tucker would suck back tins of the stuff at a sitting, if allowed. I don’t fear that he will starve. Tucker would gladly forego hard food for more of the soft.

Tucker’s arrival in my household was one of the changes that occurred last year. In fact, Ren’s arrival counts, too. I find it hard to credit that he’s been with me only since May. Perhaps Tucker’s advent at the end of September made the big boy seem like an old part of my life. Speaking of Ren, he continues his fascination with water, whether it’s still or running. I wish he could tell me what interests him about it so much.

Other new aspects of the cats’ lives include Josie’s growing friendship with me. She has always been a friendly cat. It’s why I chose her to be a companion for Tungsten. My Chubs couldn’t help it if the orange one didn’t like it that way. But over the past few months, even before we moved to the house, Josie has been asking me for attention more often, seeking me out and trying to be near me. Just this week, she twice jumped up on the table where I was writing and lie down across my papers. She had not done that before. Naturally, I obliged with petting for as long as she liked.

I’ve also noted that though Tungsten is the undisputed top-cat here, even she will yield the food bowl to Josie when the latter comes for a nibble. There’s no fighting; Tungsten understands the situation. But I’ve seen my Chubs swat Tucker – with not too much force – away from the food. It was similar with the foster-cats, Wixie and Mystery. The latter was the dominant cat in that pair, yet recognised that Wixie would not be denied when it came to food.

Tungsten has found a new spot to lie in, a hide-away in a bathroom cabinet to which only her small size admits her. As well, she has found an old spot for comfort. I at last put cushions back on the dining chairs. She has always enjoyed curling up on them for a snooze, and didn’t take long to find that they were back.

With regards to the cats, what I am most thankful for in the new year is that they get along so well. There are sometimes growls from Josie (she sounds like a grumpy old lady) when Tucker wants to play and she doesn’t; the new boy will pursue her too closely. And once in a while, Tungsten will hiss, especially at Ren. But that’s because most of the time, she allows Ren to come near her, even to lie next to her. Now and then, though, Tungsten wants to be alone. But the facts that she and Ren snooze beside each other, and that Josie and Tucker will play chase together, are remarkable. It’s a marvel to see the four of them go for days without a harsh action among them.

Josie came to live with me two years ago on Christmas Eve, and at the time I thought Tungsten would never like her or another cat. But if my orange one can change for the better, and can learn to tolerate others, then anyone can.

Merry Christmas To All

Everyone is settled in at the new house in time for Christmas. The tree is up and the stockings are hung. I remember when I just had to hang one next to my own. Then came Josie's, which by rights should be a huge one, considering her size. And now there are two more.

It's difficult to believe that all the fostering I've done has been in just the last year. Lincoln came to stay, briefly, last Christmas. He was followed by Wixie and Mystery, then by Devon, and finally by Ren, who came to stay permanently (though I didn't know it at the time). The Yuletide has been, for the past few years, a stressful time for Tungsten. Josie arrived on Christmas Eve of 2008, and Lincoln showed up at Christmas-time of the following year. This year is quieter, thanks to the smooth transition the cats have made to the new house, and to the acceptance by the orange one and my Chubs of first Ren and now Tucker.

Things continue well for us. Tucker has a dental appointment scheduled for the new year, and I worry about how that will affect him. The operation, to remove a couple of teeth and to clean the rest, will of course be professionally done, but the new boy has a history of despondency after a big event. However, he eased into his new home after the move quite well, so perhaps this won't be traumatic for him. After all, he'll be coming back to a familiar home.

Depending on what I have to say - or what the cats do - I may or may not publish anything on here during the Twelve Days of Christmas, but I wanted to put something up before the big day itself. I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a happy start to the new year.

Home Is Where the Cats Are

I have moved my residence. My cats have come with me. I anticipated problems, principally with the two males, Ren and Tucker, based on their earlier behaviour when presented with changes of home. I was surprised and pleased when none of the cats had an adverse reaction.

My four feline roommates actually had a better time of packing and moving than I did. Packing was an ordeal; a person never realises just how many individual items he has until he has to put each one into a box, resulting in dozens and dozens of boxes. The cats were seemingly unperturbed by all this fuss. They used the boxes, which were everywhere in the apartment, as new pieces of furniture, and as a playground. I would see Josie hiding behind a box, readying to launch herself at Tucker as he walked around a corner. Ren lie on top of a box and lazily tried to touch Tungsten as she passed beneath.

And now we are all in our new home, and each of the cats is finding his or her favourite places. Tungsten, never one for the exotic, likes to snooze on the bed or finds a spot downstairs in the basement when she wants to be alone. Josie had been partially ejected from her favourite spot on top of the cat-tree in the apartment, as Ren liked that place, too. Now, two cat-trees provide vantage points out the front window, and Josie isn't fussy as to which she lounges upon. Ren enjoys viewing the vicinity from the cat-tree or reclining on one of the boxes I've yet to unpack. Tucker can often be found on one of the cat-trees' lower platforms.

Certainly, the house provides advantages that the cats have taken up with enthusiasm. There is much more room in which to run, and I've seen Tucker and Josie chasing each other, especially up and down the stairs leading to and from the basement. Sometimes, I'm not sure who is pursuing whom, or even if a chase is involved. I'll hear running, and it may simply be running for its own sake. But all the cats except Tungsten - whose dignity limits such flamboyant exercise (and whose weight doesn't need it, anyway) seem to enjoy the extra space that they now have.

Some changes to behaviour are strange. Josie has taken to rolling in the bath-tub, when it's dry. Perhaps she likes the residual smell of bleach, used to clean the tub. Maybe it's the feel of the metal tub, in contrast to the fibreglass of the apartment. At least once a day, I see her waddle into the bathroom, jump over the rim of the tub and enjoy a good series of revolutions.

Tucker now sleeps full-time on the bed. Tungsten doesn't care for the crowd that's there now. Unconcerned with the other cats walking past her during the day, or with another curled up almost touching her on the couch, my orange top-cat is most fastidious as to her company at night. I'm glad she allows me room in the bed somewhere.

Once in a while, the size of the house - though not large, its developed basement makes its living area about twice the size of the old apartment - creates a consternation in the cats. Josie, in particular, sometimes feels a bit lonely. I will hear a distant cry, as of a lost animal; I call out that I'm upstairs, in the sitting room, or in the kitchen, and my Chubs will come trotting up from the basement and come over to me for a rub and a pat on the head. She was just making sure she wasn't alone.

For that matter, my own security is challenged once in a while. In the apartment, I liked to keep track of the cats, to make sure they weren't somewhere they shouldn't be, or somewhere I couldn't find them. I would periodically search them out, for my own peace of mind. Now, I do the same thing, though the need is more practical, I think. The doors in the house lead not to a corridor in a locked building, but to the outside world, and even inside, there are more places for a cat to come to grief, however unlikely that may be. And now, of course, finding the cats when I worry about them is more difficult. I always find them safe - safe, usually sleeping and wondering what the fuss is about.

But I continue to check on them nonetheless.


P.S. As an addendum, I may add that this weekend, I officially adopted Ren. He'd been a member of the family for long before this, though, and paperwork means nothing to him, but it formally means that if he ever goes to a new home, it'll still be with me. Just as practically, it means that Tungsten and Josie are stuck with him. You can guess their thoughts on that - or at least Tungsten's...

Cat Habits

I’ve found that cats are creatures of habit, even more than humans. They probably feel comforted by being able to do the same things in the same ways at the same times in the same places. My cats are like that. Their habits concern eating and sleeping, playing and sleeping, greeting visitors and sleeping. They sleep a great deal. Yet I’ve found that these habits can change, suddenly, succeeded by new ones. Why? I don’t know.

Tungsten, for instance, has a particular way of lying on my lap. When she lies facing me, her head is to my right. When she climbs, jumps or, periodically and painfully, crawls her way onto my shoulders, which is her favourite position on me, she always faces to my left. She drinks from a dripping tap. She can drink from a bowl, of course; I’ve seen her do it. But she prefers the tap, and will sit on the bathroom counter by the basin for hours to do so, if need be. Sometimes, especially if I’m sleeping, she will give a particular meow, asking for the tap to be turned on. I’ve been told to ignore her, and she’ll quit. This means ignoring the meows, which grow weaker and weaker, sadder and sadder, as if she were perishing from dehydration, ignored and abandoned. I usually get up and give her a drink. Even this habit, though, has changed: she has altered the position from which she drinks and turns her head to the right now, rather than to the left, as previous. Why? I don’t know.

Josie has a specific way and place for sleeping at night. The other cats do as well, but hers is to lie between me and the edge of the bed, facing the doorway, with her chubby body perpendicular to mine. Her big bum will be up against my side and her head near the bed’s edge. What prompted this attitude? I don’t know. She also used to lie on the back of my couch, so much so that it is now permanently deformed, bowed under her great weight. She would lie in a horse-shoe shape, and, initially, gravity and her bulk pulled her off from time to time. Then, after doing this for a year or more, she stopped lying there. Now she’s back. Why the changes? I don’t know.

Ren has an interesting habit. He has been fascinated by water for as long as he’s lived with me, and probably much longer. As I’ve mentioned in previous articles, he will sit by the bathroom basin and watch the water run. He has sat on the rim of the tub after a shower (mine, not his) and observed drops run down the vertical surfaces. This habit he has broken, and he rarely does it anymore. His new habit is to stare at the bowl of water kept on the bathroom floor. I’ve known him to stare at it for up to half an hour. Sometimes, he will reach out with his paw and tap the surface of the liquid; sometimes he will change position and stare at it from another; once in a while, he will cock his head, to get a different angle. This patient gaze will, much of the time, end with a drink, though rarely one long enough to justify the wait beforehand; other times, he will simply walk away. It’s the scientist in him; he is always observing. But what is it about a bowl of still water that fascinates him so? I don’t know.

Tucker hasn’t been with me long enough to learn too many of his habits. He’s still creating them. He has started sleeping on the bed now, when he can find space, and though he has been eating out of the ‘communal’ food bowl, he still prefers the one in the library, that had been placed there during his days of isolation when he first arrived. When he is hungry, and there is too little food in the bowl, he will wait at the library door for me to fill it. Why doesn’t he go to the other food bowl? I don’t know.

But all of the cats’ habits are destined to receive a shock. At the end of November, I will be moving to a new home, a house. I of course will be taking my feline roommates with me. What will they make of this change? How will they adjust? Who will adapt the quickest? Who will be most upset? I don’t know.

Mainly About Tucker

Tucker, the new foster-cat, is doing very well. His depression ended after about five or six days. He started eating again, drinking water on his own, and after, I think, four days, he no longer had to be force-fed with a syringe. He stopped using his hiding spot behind the bookcase and was eager to leave the library and explore the apartment, and meet the other cats.

The reason he was kicked out of what had been his home for five years was his intermittent use of the litter-box. He would periodically relieve himself elsewhere. As I’ve mentioned before, this indicates either a physical problem - too many cats using the box, litter not being changed, a medical problem with the cat - or an emotional one - stress, principally. Tucker used the litter-box provided for him at my apartment right from the start. He did wet outside of it on two occasions, and in two very specific places. I had put down cat-beds for him to use, if he wanted. He never did, so far as I could tell, sleeping instead on the top perch of the cat-tree in the library, as Ren had done. Tucker did, however, wet on the cat-beds, first one, then, when that was removed, the other. Previous foster-cats had used them as little as had Ren, so their smell would have been on them as much (or as little) as on the mats I spread out on the floor when a new cat arrives - or on the books and furniture in the library, for that matter. Tucker was specific in using those cat-beds. Before and since, he has been scrupulous in utilising the litter-box.

Aside from his despondency, Tucker’s integration has probably been the easiest I’ve experienced with any of the foster-cats at my apartment. Ren doesn’t like him, but aside from the big boy’s long whining growls, the only trouble has occurred when Tucker jumped up on the bed to find Ren already there. Other than that, things are going smoothly.

In fact, Josie seems to have found an occasional playmate in the new boy. I’ve seen them chasing each other, one zooming through the nylon tunnel at the other, ambushing one another from around corners. It doesn’t happen all the time, but they are definitely playing. Josie seems to like smacking the nylon tunnel when Tucker is in it, then pursuing or being pursued by him when he emerges.

Tungsten doesn’t like Tucker, but I think it’s his presence to which she objects, rather than the cat himself. She will hiss and growl at him, but otherwise ignores him.

Tucker is a smart fellow, and learns quickly. He knows his dinner- and snack-times, when the soft food is served, and is impudently vocal when he thinks I’m taking too long. He seems to enjoy the odd bite of bread. One day, I found a piece of pumpkin loaf had been nibbled, the plastic wrap having first been torn away. I suspected Josie, my resident heavy-eater, or perhaps Tungsten, who will prowl the counters for snacks when I’m not looking. The next day, I heard a noise in the kitchen and, when I investigated, saw Tucker rush out. A loaf of bread, the bag ripped and a corner nibbled, was on the floor. Later, a sandwich I had set aside to take as a lunch to work had been sampled. I think I must buy a bread-box.

I’ve seen him eating soft food with his paw. I’ve observed cats dipping their furry toes into water, then licking the liquid off. Tungsten has done that when she’s come across a glass with just the last drops of milk at the bottom, and couldn’t reach them any other way. But scooping up food with a paw is a new one. It was suggested to me that Tucker may be the next step in evolution for cats. If I come home and find him sitting at the table with a knife and fork, I’ll know. If only I could teach Tungsten to use a napkin.

He has also started imitating Ren’s manner of snoozing on his back, spread-eagled. Not the most modest pose for sleeping; there were other habits I wish he could have picked up from the big boy... He also likes lying on his stomach, stretched out with his legs straight behind him. He reminds me of a bathing beauty on a beach.

Tucker is very friendly. His purr, which starts quickly, is deep, and he will spontaneously rub up against me. When he is feeling particularly amiable - or if soft food is being prepared - he will rub his face against my shoe, continuing in his action so that his whole body rolls over and flops onto my foot. He enjoys playing, though he seemed afraid of a simple stick at first, backing away from it. I encouraged him to swat at it, and his initial efforts were frightened little taps that were suited more to testing if a stove-top was hot. A week later, he was hitting that stick with force if it came near him, and pursuing it, trying to knock it down or capture it. Now, enjoys a good playing session and he will grab at the thongs of a ‘cat-o-nine-tails’, of which previously he was afraid.

I have let Tucker out of the library at night, and it has caused very few problems among the household. He wants to lie on the bed - it’s astonishing how quickly the various foster-cats have found the comfort of that place - but it’s already pretty crowded, and I don’t know which cat will want permanently to give up some of its space for him. Though I woke one morning to find all four on the bed, Tucker seems satisfied for the moment with the cushioned chair next the bed.

As for the others, they are doing well. Josie seems a little more active, what with running about with the new arrival. She could certainly stand to lose weight. Tungsten is more tolerant of, or perhaps simply indifferent to, this latest foster-cat than any other. I’m sure she considers herself above such comings and goings. I regret that she and Josie no longer chase each other, the latter seeming to prefer Tucker. The orange one is kindly - or perhaps I should say, not unkindly - disposed toward Ren’s presence, allowing him to sit or lie near her, which is quite the favour for her to bestow.

And Ren no longer immediately runs for the ‘roofless cave’ (a lidless box secured to the top of the kitchen cabinets) to hide whenever the door-buzzer sounds. He still scurries for it, but he is now waiting longer before running, and he descends to meet a visitor sooner than he used.

Things are going well with the three cats I have. And the fourth.

A New Fourth

Devon no longer resides with me. That little sausage of a cat has been adopted by a very nice young couple and is now living with two older female cats in a house. He's a fortunate animal to have been adopted, and this time, he's moved into what will be his permanent home.

A few hours after Devon left, Tucker arrived. That's how pressing the need is for foster-homes for cats. The PAW Society received a call about a cat that was not using his litter-box for his waste-extraction processes: he was wetting on floors. When a cat does that, there is always an explanation; in this case, it may have been due to stress that accompanied the arrival of a new baby. Cats are sensitive, and new people, new noises, new smells, new commotions, all affect the animal. With some work and patience, the problem can be resolved. But Tucker's owners had much to deal with and couldn't help him. So he was evicted, and has come to live with me.

Tucker is a stocky fellow, black and white, with tabby stripes just visible on his sides, like ribs, and under his tail. He has big eyes and a 'short' face, in that it seems a little pushed in.

Like all new foster-cats at my apartment, he lives in the library, isolated during the day, until he becomes accustomed to things. The first couple of days that he was with me, he squeaked and cried and came over to me, pushing at my hand to indicate that he wanted some petting. Then the truth of his situation set in: he was in a new home, and not going back to the one he'd known since kittenhood. He was excited by the novelty at first, but then he probably became lonesome, then despondent. He spent several days in a hiding spot, not eating. He had to be fed by syringe, given a medicated food to keep up his supply of nutrients and water. He is now coming round, and has nibbled some of his regular food.

It's been several days since his arrival and Tucker is doing better. I am still feeding him by syringe, as he is still only pecking at his food and not getting enough. I've no idea if he is drinking enough - or any - water, so he must get some of that forced into him too. The strange thing is that, except for not eating, he appears to be getting used to his new surroundings. He is more alert and active than he had been, wanting to come out and explore. I keep him in the library during the day and arrange his food in a way that will tell me if he's eaten any. I can also monitor his use of the litter-box. He's been leaving deposits there, so I know that he's getting more water than his body needs - which is better than the opposite.

It's ironic that the one big problem that he doesn't have is the one due to which he was evicted.

But I know that he, like the other cats at my place, loves to be combed. On the weekend, before he became discouraged, he stretched out on the small table, purring with every stroke as I combed him, and when I stopped, he got up and tapped me once on the head to get me started again. So he does have a history of having his whims indulged, like every loved pet.

My three are unsure about Tucker. The first time I let him out of the library, he explored a bit, but the others were snoozing at the time. The next day, I opened the library door and Ren and Josie established themselves at the threshold to stare at the newcomer. Tucker hissed and growled a little, perhaps to show that he would not be intimidated. I'm not sure if he convinced the others, since he didn't leave the room. Ren even started going into the library; I think he was trying to make friends, for he arched his back - Ren does that as if rubbing up against someone, but he doesn't actually make contact; nonetheless, it's a sign of amiability. Tucker thought he'd better stay on the defensive, however, and hissed. Ren, who is not a fighter, backed away.

So for now, I and the PAW Society are guardedly optimistic about the new boy. He's doing better but not well enough for our liking. We want to see him gobbling food like Josie, my Chubs. Well, maybe not eating that much...