Time to Explore

Imogen is slowly gaining more confidence in her explorations of the apartment. I keep Zofia confined somewhere when I release Imo from the library, simply because Zo is a bit too eager to come to know the newcomer, and that inhibits the latter’s will to move about. Their further acquaintance will come, but after Imogen is used to the two oldsters.

My new black cat wandered about the sitting room this time, where she had not gone before, climbing furniture, human and feline. She peered out the glass doors and sniffed around the kitchen. She jumped up on a counter twice but was not too put out when I lifted her down. (I am having her grow accustomed to being picked up.)

Her reactions to Neville were satisfactory. She was aware that the Nevsky was in a corner watching her, but did not let that stop her from roaming. She would periodically glance at him and hiss, followed sometimes with a short groaning growl. These were acknowledgements of his presence, rather than hostility; a warning that she knew he was there, and wished him to stay there, thank you.

She continues to regard me as protection, which I take positively, considering how short a time she has known me, and to think of the library as her safe-zone, though last night, she was reluctant to return there, as she seemed to be enjoying her peregrinations. But it was bed-time, and I was tired.

Slowly but surely is a phrase perhaps too-often used. But it suits this situation. Imogen will come around to the other cats and will one day be out, unsupervised, among them. That it will take a while yet doesn’t worry me. She and I have time.

On the Safe Side

Renn’s appointment with the veterinary today did not result in any revelations, which is probably just as well. His condition had been improving for the last couple of days, so much so that I considered cancelling the appointment. His sneezing and sniffling had been diminishing, though Monday it had reached a climax: his snorting and dripping was producing blood, probably due to the constant irritation of the nose and throat. So, in the end, I decided to take him, just to be on the safe side.

He sneezed once at the hospital; his nose is no longer running and his sniffles evident now only when he lowers his head to eat or drink. The doctor found little congestion in my big boy; the heart and lungs sound good. She thought Renn in satisfactory shape for his age. Though the problem had likely been a respiratory infection, there wasn’t now a need for anti-biotics, which would have treated the by-products of a viral infection. He didn’t feel even dehydrated.

Renn himself seemed confident of the verdict. His tail was mostly up while waiting for the veterinary, and it was only during the actual examination that he exhibited annoyance or discomfort.

So we returned to the Cosy Apartment, where my oldster had a bit more to eat – dinner having been served prior to our appointment – and washed it down with a draught of fresh water. Much ado about nothing, Renn no doubt thought. That may be fine for him, but when you care for a sixteen year old cat, much ado often starts as nothing. I’m glad that this time, it is heading back there, too.

Small Adventures

Yesterday, I continued Imogen’s process of integration. I decided against Zofia’s participation this time, locking her in the bedroom with a litter-box. She was snoozing, anyway.

The boys were sleeping in the sitting room, but Imogen never saw them. I imagine that she assumes there to be only one other cat in the apartment aside from herself. I hope meeting Renn and Neville won’t be too much of a shock for her. In favour of an easy encounter is the fact that the boys are oldsters who, while they would prefer not to be troubled by newcomers, themselves do not cause trouble.

This day, however, Imogen didn’t venture beyond the corridor and the bathroom. Very nervous, she slinked about, smelling various corners and objects. She may have scented the boys that way, though she might think that they are old signs. In any case, she remained close to the library, indicating the importance of a safe-room for a new cat.

Also indicated, though, was how quickly Imogen can trust a human. While I was trying to urge her to more expansive explorations, she stayed by me, rubbing up against me, arching her back for pets, and generally viewing me as some form of protection. This, though we had met only last week, and under less than friendly conditions. If her anxiety over her new surroundings presage a very gradual integration into the Cosy Apartment’s society, then her attitude toward me suggests that an adoption by another human would not require the adjustment that some cats need.

A Doctor's Appointment for Renn

My old friend Renn is feeling poorly.

He has what may be just a cold - he’s had them from time to time priorly - but this one seems to be clinging to him longer than most. There is plenty of sneezing and snorting through a clogged nose. It is not growing worse; there is a bit of blood in his snot now, but I suspect that is due to too much action in the nose and throat that are growing dryer. In any case, he has a doctor’s appointment for Wednesday, which is the soonest available.

Fortunately, as has been the case on similar occasions, Renn continues to eat and drink. His appetite remains as before: small but adequate, with periodic off-days. I am sure his kidney issues are worsening, but there is little that can be done for that. Doctors recommend the usual foods for such an ailment, foods that Renn won’t eat. His water-consumption is good, so he doesn’t need extra fluids, which are a source of extra stress for him, anyway.

My big boy is doing well, aside from this latest complaint. I want to make sure that that doesn’t develop into anything worse, so that my old friend will stay with me for a long while yet.

No New Friends Today

Today I introduced Imogen to the resident cats. It didn’t proceed well.

Predictably, the first to try to welcome the newcomer was Zofia. I left the library door open and Imogen, up on top of a bookcase, watched little Miss Zed come in to the room. Zo was slow in her approach, but when she came too close to Imo, the latter became very defensive. Her ears went back, she screamed, the claws came out. Fortunately, I was ready for such an eventuality, and whisked Zofia out of the room. I had to assure her that she was not at fault.

Such a failure at this stage was, of course, a possibility. I wanted to see if the easy and simple method of integration would work. It has numerous times before; while there would be hissing and growling, tolerance prevailed. Not in this case. Tomorrow, I will put the others away in the bedroom and allow Imogen to wander freely. After that, I will introduce the oldsters to her, hovering near by to stop any action. I fear that in the event, Imogen will just not want to come out of the library.

The fact is that she has probably never interacted with another cat. She may not have seen any other, for that matter. Letting her move about the apartment will permit her to smell the others and grow accustomed to their presence, without actually encountering them. Imogen’s inclusion in life in the Cosy Apartment may take a while.

But she and I had a play-session this evening. It didn’t last long, though she seemed to enjoy herself while it did. She then lost interest. As with everything else, I know nothing about her recreational habits: how active she was in her old home, what she has played with, how much she has played, and if her previous owner ever played with her.

Life with Imogen will be learned as it is lived.

Imogen's Decision

Today was a red-letter day for Imogen. She had been coming out from her hiding spots in the library with increasing frequency since her arrival on Wednesday. This afternoon, she must have decided that someone other than her former human can be trusted. I and a friend from the rescue-group, who had come to see the new arrival, spent about half an hour with Imogen, during which she allowed – indeed, encouraged – us to pet her and stroke her. She pushed her head against our hands, arched her back and lie down in front of us.

As may be seen from some of the pictures, she was quite at ease during the visit. She felt comfortable enough to roam about the room, climbing Min’s cat-tree and spending time on the bookcase under the window (she likes the view from there), relaxing on other bookcases and climbing on to the couch.

I can pick her up, which is something that would be necessary when preparing to take her to the veterinary hospital, though she does not care, at least at this point, for being on someone’s lap. Her coat is in very good condition, smooth and without dandruff. We were not able to get a good look at her teeth, but her ears appear clean, without mites, though there is a small amount of wax. Her weight is very good for her size; perhaps a little too good. I think she could lose a pound.

The appraisal of Imogen’s health may have been superficial but she doesn’t seem to need an immediate veterinary visit. I am glad of this, as it gives her a week or so further to settle in before she is yet again stuffed into a carrier. From the sounds she was making last night, I thought that she might be going into heat, but her behaviour is otherwise today. In fact, her nipples are quite undeveloped, which suggests that she might, after all, be spayed. This, of course, is far from definite.

Nonetheless, Imogen has taken a great stride forward today. I feel confident in letting her out briefly to see the other cats, perhaps tomorrow. She is a long way from being released permanently, but I don’t believe any improvement will be gained by delaying the start of her integration. I will bear in mind my mistake in rushing Zofia’s integration: the actual introduction of the kitten into the cat population was satisfactory; her complete freedom should probably have been phased in more gradually. But Imogen is no eager and enthusiastic kitten, though she does want to see what is behind the library door. She may set her own limits on interaction. If she doesn’t, I will be ready to ensure a gradual acceptance.

Introducing Imogen

My new guest’s name is Imogen.

I was worried about her yesterday: I came home from work and it was clear that she had spent the whole day behind a corner bookcase. She hadn’t eaten or used the litter-box. These are always concerns for a number of reasons. In terms of health, eating and waste production are, of course, essential. In terms of labour, I don’t fancy the idea of syringe-feeding a distrusting, frightened cat. And, generally, a feline who hides isn’t feeling good about her situation.

But last evening, Imogen came out of her safe-spot and lie on top of the bookcases. Even better, she didn’t hide when I came into the room. I sat on the couch and read for a while. I was watched from a distance. But then Imogen started grooming herself; in itself, a sign of improvement, but also an indication that my presence didn’t alarm her. She later allowed me to touch her, though she clearly would rather I don’t. This is a step in the right direction because, firstly, I will need to handle her to put her in a carrier for her eventual veterinary appointment, and, secondly, my rule is that I not let a new cat out of the library unless I am able to put her back in.

By this morning, she had used the litter-box. There was just a tiny poop - she hasn’t eaten much in the last twenty-four hours - but a sizeable urine-lump, which suggests that she is drinking water, which I thought she was not. She had also eaten the small portion of soft food I had left her. When I went to work, I provided her with more soft-food, but gave her two varieties, as well as two kinds of hard-food.

Imogen spent much of the night crying in a soft, quiet way. However her human treated her - and I have no reason to think it wasn’t well - and whatever her life was like, she obviously and naturally misses it. She was, from her point of view, waiting for her person to come home when strangers broke in, restrained her, stuffed her in a cage and took her to an unknown location, all the while telling her that she would be all right. She has no idea if her human is looking for her or missing her, or even what happened to her. Imogen will come around; I think she will make the transition to her new foster-home successfully, and without a great delay. But right now, she is suffering loneliness and fear. Only time and patience will change that.