One Sturdy Year

I don’t usually mark anniversaries to the day. If something stands out about a certain day, then I will remember it; if not, I generally just recall the year in which something occurred. For instance, Josie came to stay with me, I believe, on Christmas Eve of 2008. Tungsten arrived in August of the year before, though I cannot say with exactitude which date it was. I know when she left me, though.

I know when Parker came to my apartment because I wrote about it in my blog. It was one year ago yesterday. My sturdy orange foster-cat has become a part of life in the household. He is available for adoption, but it would have to be a very special individual or family to whom he would go. Of course, rescue-groups feel that way about all their foster-cats, but the specialty must be a little different for Parker because of his diabetes.

Taking care of him is more than just injecting him with insulin twice a day. It includes the monthly monitoring of his blood-glucose levels (‘curves’), which involves taking blood every two hours over a twelve-hour period; in fact, because I want to be more exact, during mid-day, the sampling is every hour. He must also be watched for water-consumption and frequency of urination. His body strength must be gauged, and his diet strictly controlled. Other people could do a better job of this than I, but it must be constant, and not everyone is able to provide that care, due to their home and work situations.

He’s estimated to be eleven years old now, but still enjoys an active life. He loves to bat around the fuzzy mice, will charge the Track-ball and run about simply because he likes it. He will also jump onto the kitchen counters, possibly because I don’t like it. Parker still has his troubles with the other cats, so he remains in the library while I am absent or asleep. He would prefer the freedom of the apartment but the library is a comfy little room, so, while he may be bored in there, he is not suffering.

Parker is always on the look-out for food. His weight stubbornly refuses to diminish, but he is not fat; he’s a big-boned boy. Since his dental procedure some months ago, he is in good health, aside from his diabetes. He is a fun, friendly fellow. He lies at my feet while I wash the dishes and loves a good, sustained head-rub. His purr is rough and throaty; otherwise, his vocalizations are highly pitched, like a little kitten’s larynx has been put in the body of a tiger. His personality is definitely that of the extrovert.

Until the ideal home comes along, this solidly-built fellow will stay with me. It’s a bit crowded in the cosy apartment, but stepping over or around a fifth cat is not too much trouble. I’ve been doing it for a year. I can do it some more.

My Favourite Cause

Today I would like to write about something that I am sure I have written about previously. A few hours on Saturday brought the topic back to me. The second Saturday of each month, the rescue-group of which I am a member, the Lethbridge PAW Society, brings a cat, available for adoption, to a local pet-supply shop, to show him off, and to generate interest in him, the group, and cat-rescue in general. We rarely have an adoption result directly from the event, but it is good for publicity. If people don’t know about us and the cats seeking homes, nothing will happen.

Most of the time, the three hours the cat spends in his roomy cage in the shop are neither good nor bad for him. He rarely wants to be there, but usually puts up with it. The cat is often anxious at first, then settles down reluctantly, to await his return to his foster-home. Now and then, a feline reaction is cheerful; periodically it is fearful for the whole time. That was, unfortunately, the case with Rika this past Saturday.

This illustrates a ‘sub-cause’, as it were, that I like to promote whenever possible, and that is the consideration for adoption of the less likely cats. Rika spent most of her time under the cat-bed provided for her. She did not want to come out and interact with people, she did not respond to petting and soft words. Normally, she is an extrovert, entertaining humans and herself with playful antics and trying to involve the other animals in her foster-home in games. No one would have known that from her time at the pet-supply shop.

Other cats are not outgoing at the best of times. Like Ali - currently featured in my sidebar - they are shy, and that makes them reclusive, especially with new people. They unfortunately create a circle of apathy: few humans want to take the chance with a cat who won’t even come out to sniff them, let alone play or talk with them, so the cat remains unadopted and becomes more of an introvert.

But that doesn’t mean he will always be so. What it means is that what qualities he has will be hidden in the short time a prospective family spends with him in a foster-home or shelter. He will emerge from his cocoon of shyness only over a long time, weeks, perhaps months. That is what it will take to come to know him.

That cocoon of shyness is also a cocoon of loneliness and fear. He doesn’t trust or like the possibilities offered by change, so he remains as he is, even if it means never having a home. But I suggest that these are not only the cats who need the chance of a home the most, but those who will give the greatest return on an investment of patience and affection.

There is nothing wrong with adopting the cat who reaches out for you through the bars of his cage. He may be meant for you. But he will also have an excellent chance of charming someone else. While your heart may melt at the cries of a little fellow who clearly wants to come with you, consider those who are too despondent, too disappointed to try anymore. Consider the ones with their backs to you, who hide at the rear of their kennels. You won’t have a lap-cat that evening, and you won’t have a cat sleeping on your bed that night. But you will some day, and when you do, you will have the most faithful of friends, a new family member who will love and trust you like no other.

We all have qualities for which we search in those we want as friends, whether they are human or animal. We don’t want to risk being stuck with someone who annoys, bores or frightens us. But every new relationship is a risk. The next time you are searching for a cat to adopt, it may pay in any number of ways to ask the shelter or rescue-group, “Who needs a home the most? Who has been waiting the longest? Who will never be chosen?”

The answer to those questions may surprise and delight you.

The Feline Mind Meld

Today’s story depends upon two elements of Renn’s character.

Firstly, he loves people. He may be a bit shy at first with strangers, but it takes him very little time to warm to them. He likes to know where I and and, from time to time, visit with me, before going back to snoozing or peering out the window. He enjoys physical contact with people. When they aren’t petting him, he likes to lie up against them.

Secondly, he loves lying on the bed with me. Whenever I lie down for a nap (which is very rare) or to sleep (a nightly occurrence), he will come trotting into the bedroom and jump up on the bed. How he knows that I am lying on it, as opposed to sitting (which evokes no reaction on my big boy’s part), I don’t know. He is the first to join me at bed-time and the last to get off the bed in the morning, the lazy dog.

This past weekend, I was working on my computer in the bedroom and Renn wanted to keep me company. In he came and settled down on the bed. After half an hour, I figured he had a good idea, and I joined him for a short lie-down. Renn immediately started purring. But he felt he needed physical contact, so he reached out with a couple of paws. I think the intention may have been to knead me, but the stretch was probably too pleasant, and he just kept one foot against my head.

I don’t know what was sillier: that I had a purring cat with his paw pushed against my head for twenty minutes, or that I didn’t move because I was reluctant to disturb him for twenty minutes.

Nylon Tunnel, Mine Enemy

How the different cats play with their toys always interests me. The nylon tunnel has, I think, been a good investment. Tucker likes to sleep in it, as well as use it for playing with me; Josie will snooze in it periodically, Renn will now and then bat at the other cats who are in it (he gets into trouble for that); Cammie zooms through it to startle Tucker.

Parker fights the nylon tunnel. He will tackle it and pull on it, twist it and gnaw it - but only at its end. His wrestling matches with the nylon tunnel often conclude with the tunnel bunched up against a chair, or pushed against a wall. I suspect the bouncy nature of the tunnel, the way in which it springs back into shape, fascinates him in some way, though this is speculation. And why it doesn’t intrigue the other beasts in the same manner, I don’t know. But then, none of the others share Renn’s study of water. Each to his own.

Whatever the cause, I am glad that I have yet another toy for the diversion of my furry roommates. It may not have been intended for such a use, but that’s of little significance. Like the fun provided by a box rather than its contents, it is the result that counts. And my sturdy orange-boy seems to like the results when he fights with the nylon tunnel.

As Snug as a Cat on a Rug

The weather has turned warmer here, for now - it’s supposed to drop to -18° in the middle of the week, and then go back up above zero by next week - but it can still be chilly at night, especially when a wind is blowing, which it usually is here in southern Alberta. The cats enjoy their heated beds at such times.

But Cammie discovered - or re-discovered - the heating pipes during the autumn. She likes to lie against the flat metal covers that line the rooms. It’s one of the reasons why she was often under the Christmas tree when it was up: she could also lie against the hot-water pipe-covers.

She did this in the bedroom, too, but the rugs that cover the floor there are a bit coarse. I noticed that the princess was instead lying on the carpeted base of the cat-tree near by, and that didn’t provide enough room for her to curl up in comfort. The simple solution was to spread a towel on the rug. Cammie likes snoozing on such towels on the library couch, so I thought she would benefit from one in her chosen spot in the bedroom.

I think she has.

Word is Spreading

This is how much snow we received over the past couple of weeks. The temperature has risen since this picture was taken, so conditions are better. The snow has become crusty and hard and ugly but, undoubtedly, things have improved for the outsider-cats. Mine inside are still doing this.

But the interesting news is that I have observed a new outsider-cat. It was at night, so I couldn’t take a photograph of him. He is a largish fellow, mostly white but with dark spots. He has a white face and ears, and a black cap on the top of his head. His tail is black and bushy; he looks to be a medium-haired cat, at the least.

Parker alerted me to his presence. The new fellow was eating from the food-bowl, then saw us looking at him. He does not appear as skittish as the black cats; he sat on the parapet of the concrete ditch, looking back at us, curious. He probably would have run if I had been outside and approached him, but I suspect he may be accustomed to, and perhaps even comfortable with, human contact, if he knows the person. Eventually, however, he took himself off for the night.

I wonder how he found the Café Cosy. He may have simply been wandering and stumbled upon it, first seeing the water-bowl on its parapet, then the food-bowl below. But I think he may have followed one of the two well-defined sets of tracks in the snow. They are at right angles to each other and converge at the water-bowl. There is no deviation in them, so if a cat saw them, he would think that other cats had a definite and positive goal in mind.

In any case, word seems to be spreading about the food- and water-bowls, about which I am pleased. Their contents are needed not just during the coldest periods but when dirty snow melts into muddy slush and filthy water. I want to see all the tables filled at Café Cosy.

The Other Diners

The weather is relenting a bit, and the very cold temperatures of the past week (in the -30s) are rising. Last night, I went outside and, though -17°, it felt almost like spring. I don’t mind the cold, but when it is painful, indeed dangerous, simply to walk about, then I must object.

I continue to feed the outside cats, though I have seen only one black cat come to the food-bowl in the last few days. I don’t know if she is one of the pair of black cats. I am not sure if I should hope for that or not, as it may mean that something has happened to her friend.

In the meantime, birds are taking advantage of the free food. I haven’t seen magpies for a while; they’ve been replaced by what I think are called, at least in these parts, starlings. Whether they are starlings or not, I don’t know. But they gather in small flocks and have a bite to eat at my expense. I don’t mind. They need food at such times, too, and they provide entertainment for my cats.

Renn and Parker especially like to watch the birds cluster around the food-bowl. When my big boy sees them, he will hurry over to the window, running low and quietly, as if he is about to rush them after stalking them. Some instincts never leave an animal. Both boys enjoy the birds’ flapping about, flying, pecking at the kernels in the bowl. Then, the flock will be gone, perhaps to come again.

It’s cheap entertainment, and the birds will work for food, so everyone is happy. And, while I do have to keep re-stocking the bowl, I no longer have to do it in temperatures so low they hurt.