How Cammie Was Welcomed Back

Cats are funny creatures. Their reactions will sometimes surprise a person. I can usually determine how much each of my perma-cats will take a dislike to any new feline coming into the household. Renn generally tries to make friends – or at least get to know – the latest arrival, while Josie will live and let live. Tungsten will want the new cat to remain at a distance, and Tucker may have emotional issues, stop pooping, wet where he shouldn’t and generally have a minor breakdown. He is, however, getting better – much better, if Kola’s advent is anything to go by.

 

I didn’t know what to expect from Cammie’s return. For the most part, the one affected most seems to be Cammie herself. The others have treated her six weeks’ absence as merely an extended period in which she spent time in another room, or perhaps at the veterinary hospital. Here are illustrations of what I mean.

 

Tungsten, though she hisses like a man trying to whistle with a mouth full of mashed potatoes whenever Cammie walks by too closely, attended her return with a great deal of apathy, manifested in unconsciousness.

 

Josie observed the whole event from one of her favourite spots, and cared almost as little as the orange one.

 

Tucker, remarkably, watched but barely acknowledged Cammie’s re-appearance. Indeed, he was quite calm about the unfolding drama.

 

And Renn, true to form, wanted to sniff the Siamese Princess and welcome her home in a genuine and warm feline manner. He was as close as Cammie came to having a friend, and I would not be surprised if he wants to pick up where they left off. He’s a nice fellow, after all.

 

I am glad that Cammie did not upset the perma-cats too greatly, especially since Kola’s presence disrupted the household routine already, but, thankfully, not to as great an extent as cats have in the past, probably because he’s such an easy-going boy. But then, as I wrote above, none of my regulars seemed to have thought Cammie's prolonged invisibility to be anything extraordinary. If only she could tell them…

Cammie: Her First Full Day Back

Cammie seems to be better today, her first full day back with me. I write ‘seems’ because one never knows with cats; they hide their injuries well, both physically and emotionally. But I think she is doing well.

I did not lock her up during the night. Consequently, Kola – the recently re-named Lola – wandered about crying and talking. You see, he had spent a week and a half sleeping each night where Cammie snoozed last night, on the couch in the parlour. I thought it best to give that spot to the Siamese Princess. Kola still has to find his place here, but that will come. That he attempted to find it in the parlour last night was evidenced by the periodic growls that met Kola’s peregrinations.

Cammie is less growly today, though she still wants all other cats to keep their distance. She allows me to pet her and stroke her, even without me showing her that I am about to do it. That is where we left off. I’m confident that she will prosper more and more each day.

Disaster Averted - Cammie Returns

Cammie is back with me. How this occurred is a strange tale, though it may not be unfamiliar in many aspects to other animal-rescuers or groups.

Cammie was adopted at the very beginning of May. A woman from Regina saw her during her internet search for a blue-point Siamese, a kind of cat that she fancied. This woman contacted the rescue-group of which I am a member, the Lethbridge PAW Society, and she and one of the Executive spoke on the telephone at some length. What was stressed was Cammie’s abused background, and how she would take a long, perhaps very long time, to trust a person. It was also pointed out that Cammie had not lived with other cats until she came to stay in a foster-home (mine) but had progressed well in her integration.

The woman from Regina, X (as I will call her) told of her background and how she had one other cat. It was thought, by myself as well as others, that if Cammie could live reasonably well with five (including the late Bear-Bear) other cats, she would find one not much of an adjustment. Time was what Cammie needed, time to trust.

X travelled the seven hours to Lethbridge to collect Cammie. She seemed nice. The only traits about her that made me think otherwise were her reluctance to return communications (though her work made that understandable) and a vague apathy to what I explained to her about Cammie when we met in person. She appeared excited to get Cammie, and I assumed her behaviour was due to that – and the 567 mile journey she had just undertaken.

After that, contacting X for an update on Cammie was extremely difficult. She had agreed to provide information on how Cammie was doing, and to do a telephone interview for the PAW newsletter. X never returned calls or messages. Eventually, I did get hold of her and from what she told me, all seemed to be going relatively well, if not entirely happily. But I knew Cammie required time to settle down.

Because of the long trip she had had to undertake, Cammie was put in an extra large carrier, to give her room to stand and stretch during the car-ride. This was borrowed by X and would be picked up by A, a member of the PAW Society who would be travelling to Regina on unrelated business in mid-June. Mid-June came, and A went to pick up the carrier. X continued to be difficult to get hold of, and at last agreed to leave the carrier outside her house, because she was working on that day.

Stopping by the house, A found the carrier and decided to talk to whomever was home. She wanted a first-hand account of Cammie’s progress, and perhaps to see the little cat. Anyone who has rescued a cat would comprehend. No one was home. But a moment later, a relative of X drove up. He explained that Cammie was not doing well, and was not getting along with the other cats - of which there were three, not one. He also said, in vulgar language, that Cammie was messed up (psychologically). A asked if the relative wanted her to take Cammie back. The relative thought this an excellent idea, and stated that X would have no objection either.

Cammie made the long trip back to Lethbridge the next day. She is in my back parlour, where all new arrivals spend some time, though, because she is familiar with my home and my perma-cats, I intend to let her out later to see how she behaves. This is risky, since with Cammie, getting her back in a confined space will be next to impossible. Kola, who is the former Lola – repeatedly calling him ‘her’ because of the name was driving me bats – is a new factor in the household, but he is, so far, reacting well to hisses and growls (ie. he accepts them as the warnings they are and backs away.)

No one connected with Cammie’s adoption on this end can explain X’s behaviour, though we have our theories. I won’t bother with them here. X has, so far, not contacted PAW, and may never. It was agreed that she could adopt Cammie because we all wanted the little girlcat to have her chance at a permanent home. That did not work and we have learned our lesson, and fortunately have not lost Cammie in the learning. I am simply glad to have Cammie back, unhurt. Her progress in trust may have received a blow, but I don’t think it will be a severe one. I am thankful that A had to collect the carrier loaned to X; if it hadn’t been for that, and the timely arrival of X’s relative on an errand unconnected to Cammie, we would never have known about her predicament, and never have gotten her back. She is safe now, and I will start again to earn her trust. Perhaps she hasn’t forgotten everything she once learned.

Chums

Tungsten and Renn are chums most of the time, as I’ve noted previously in this blog. Sometimes, they can be found lying next to each other in the armchair in the sitting room. Other times, the orange one is on my lap on the couch, while the big boy is lying against me. Renn especially likes to have the Tiny Terror next to him. Then again, I will find them in positions that they won’t tolerate from other cats. Look at these pictures. Do you think they are conspiring over something? Chatting about the day? Or just resting together, and enjoying the sunshine? Probably the last: two cats being chums.

Meet Lola

Today I would like you to meet Lola. Even though he has a girl’s name, he’s a mancat. That doesn’t stop me from repeatedly referring to him with feminine pronouns, because of the name.

You may have noticed Lola on my side-bar. He needed a foster-home and the rescue group with which I work had none available, so he came to my house. Well, that’s not strictly true. There was another foster-home, but there was another homeless cat. I think most of you reading this know how that is. In any case, Lola came to stay with me on Saturday.

He is a friendly fellow and definitely loves having his long, fine fur combed, though not brushed. He loves tummy-rubs and side-rubs, but will let you know when he’s had enough. He is declawed, unfortunately, so he will nip if he’s annoyed. It’s not a bite because he doesn’t mean business by it. But he lets you know.

Lola is a curious explorer, a talkative fellow. He will wander the house, saying something, perhaps describing what he sees and smells. He was sometimes permitted outside in his old home, but that won’t be allowed here, so I have to watch he doesn’t try to enforce his old habits on his own by darting through a half-open door. So far, he’s content to try to dart out through the door of the back parlour, where he’s being kept for now.

I have let him out, as you can see by the photographs. He knows there are other cats here, has been hissed at by Tungsten – and wisely turned away at such times – and spoken to by Josie. Tucker hisses at him, as well, but it doesn’t have the same effect as when the orange one does it. Being warned off by a cat with the heart of a tiger is different than being told what for by a large furry sausage. Renn seems to have the least problem with the newcomer.

There is still plenty of adjustment to go through. Lola was interested and excited by his new surroundings at first, then he become discouraged. I’ve noticed this reaction in many cats. Now, he is less depressed and behaves a bit more energetically. However, a genuine picture of what is going on inside the poor boy may be gleaned from the fact that he is currently hiding under the bed. I have no doubt that he will eventually be fine with his change of circumstances but, as with a human, being given up by the family with whom you’ve lived for your whole life is tough. Everything in Lola’s world now is strange, and much of it, so he must believe, unfriendly.

Lola is available for adoption, of course, and if anyone is intrigued by this dinstinctive cat, he would be pleased – well, curious – to meet them. Until then, he will reside with me. Safe and sound, but for the time being, bewildered.

A Time for Thunder Again

Now that we are well into spring, the weather has at last changed. (Ignore today when the temperature dropped to eight degrees Celsius, and I had to wear gloves while bicycling.) The previous days have been warm, and when clouds gather for rain, they sometimes gather for thunderstorms, too.

My beasts don’t care for thunder. I’m sure that’s a common feeling in households all through the Cat Blogosphere. This one was probably the biggest of the season so far and, while it was not that tremendous, we haven’t heard much thunder this year, so the cats over-reacted somewhat.

The boys decided that the bedroom was the safest place. Tucker was under the bed until I coaxed him out, and then he stayed quite flat on top of it. At least they didn’t scurry downstairs to the basement. That is their last resort when afraid.

Josie was unnerved by the storm. She isn’t usually as frightened as Renn and Tucker but, as I wrote above, she may have forgotten about electrical storms from last year. This one may have caught her unawares. Here she is behind the armchair, trying to be inconspicuous, in case the thunder comes calling closer to home.

And here is Tungsten, showing how terrified she is. My little tigress.

Holidays!

I am officially on holiday. The next three weeks away from my job will make the other forty-nine bearable – just. I don’t have the resources to go anywhere and, if I did, would I leave the cats? Who would look after them? And so I remain. But this will mean sleeping in (if Tungsten doesn’t keep waking me extra early), staying up late (if I’m not too tired) and doing what I want to do (in between catering to the beasts). That doesn’t sound too bad, after all, does it?