Meanwhile, Outside...

While Percival settles down to a new life inside, another cat is adjusting to changes outside.

Cicero hasn’t been coming to Café Cosy for a long time. When he first appeared, he was so timid that he would flee if he caught me looking at him from the farthest reaches of the apartment. In a short time, however, he has become much braver.

Bravery is relative, of course. This is the third mention I have made of Cicero on this blog in three months, and in each instance, his progress is greater. He still waits until I close the door after placing a dish of food on the floor of the concrete ditch. But where he waits is on the ditch’s parapet, and, like his fellow outsider, Sable, he descends to partake of his meal even as I am sliding the door shut. Unlike Sable, this is a great step forward for this shy fellow. Furthermore, he will now eat even if I am just on the other side of the glass door. He doesn’t care for the propinquity, and keeps bobbing his head up to see if I have crept closer, but he eats nonetheless.

And what an eater. He will easily consume two large tins of soft-food at a sitting, and want more. As is the case with other patrons of my restaurant, I am reluctant to close the kitchen while Cicero is still expecting service. He does not visit every night; not even every other night. Though he probably has other sources of food, he may not. It may be that he can get away to eat here only every few days, and goes without in the interval. Therefore, I feed him as much as he likes. Considering his schedule, it probably works out to no more than what an average cat consumes.

Maybe, in the months to come, Cicero will grow bolder. He has already made more progress than Sable has in years. But Sable is a true feral; I suspect Cicero once knew a human’s touch, but has felt every man’s hand against him for quite a time. Even so, he may in the future, come to trust me more, and more readily, than Sable ever will.

Percival Recovers

Percival had his neuter-surgery today. All went well. While at the hospital, he was vaccinated, de-wormed, had his ears checked for mites, his claws trimmed and tested for feline leukemia and FIV. He was negative for those diseases. He will go for a fuller examination in a few weeks, after he recovers from this ordeal.

When he came home, he was still quite dopey, had trouble walking, and tumbled over a couple of times, preferring just to lie where he fell, rather than try to rise again. As may be seen, he has to wear a cone. He is not constantly trying to lick his wound, but he does attempt it, and I cannot afford to have its healing disrupted. So he must wear the cone when I am not present to supervise. This situation should not last long.

A few hours after his return, Perk was feeling better. He ate a small dinner, drank some water and used the litter-box a second time. For these functions, the cone was removed; I will see tonight or tomorrow if he is able to fulfill at least the waste-disposal while wearing the cone.

But once he started recovering, he became as affectionate as he was yesterday, loving head- and chest-rubs, being chucked under the chin and generally fawned over. He was, however, quite tired, and would drift off whenever he ceased moving. This is hardly surprising: he has had a busy, if not exhausting, couple of days; his anxiety must have been high until this evening, and today he was drugged in several ways and suffered an amputation. Yet when he settled into his bed – temporarily without his cone – he kneaded, even with his eyes closed and his consciousness half-faded. I think it was a relief to him to come back to his new home.

If things continue as they are, I hope to see evidence of two or three more litter-box visits, after which I will feel confident enough to move Percival to the library, where he will have much more room, a choice of sleeping spots – including one that’s heated – and a window. Then he and I will really get to know one another.

Introducing Percival

I am pleased to present to readers a new guest at the Cosy Apartment. Meet Percival.

Percival had been coming for some months to feed at my work-place whenever the feral colony there had its meals. He was, however, clearly not feral. I could not only touch him, pet him, rub his head, but he encouraged it. Had he a home and was simply supplementing his menu? It is possible, but his coat has the shaggy, unkempt look of one that is continuously outside. He is also unneutered. I decided to bring him in.

Because of unforeseen complications in arranging his veterinary visit, he spent much of today in a carrier at my work-place. Initially, of course, he wanted out. I will have to retire that particular carrier, as Percival was able merely to push his way out of it. A strong, big-headed cat, he exerted enough pressure to lift the nuts securing the door upward; their threads are probably worn away. But, possibly characteristic of his nature, he allowed me to pick him up and put him back in the carrier, its door now reinforced. Thereafter, he seemed resigned to his fate, and fell asleep.

He will go for his neuter-surgery tomorrow afternoon. Until then, and afterward for a little while, he will stay in my bathroom, at least until he uses the litter-box there. Right now, he seems to be grateful for the comforts he has, even if they are a bit restricted. He ate a good dinner, drank some water and almost immediately settled into the cat-bed I provided him.

Percival appears to have a Horace-like affection for people and the attention they can give him. He has several times rolled onto his back to invite chest-rubs, and leans into a hand that is rubbing his fuzzy head. He will be available for adoption in a few weeks, maybe a month or two, depending upon how well I get to know him in that time. But, so far, my latest visitor is ready to enjoy any and every human.

A Little Closer

Imogen has integrated with my two oldsters - and adapted in general - better - or perhaps just faster - than I thought she would. She doesn’t care for Renn and Neville’s presence, but is used to it now. Nor does she hiss every time she sees them, and will, in fact, come reasonably close to them. (Note how, in the pictures below, Renn regards Imogen's approach until she sits, upon which he resumes his snooze.)

Imo is also using the litter-boxes in the store-room, perhaps because the boys are, as they often do once it becomes available again, monopolising the box in the library. It’s a satisfactory step that she goes to the store-room boxes, since the library will become out-of-bounds to her and the others if I bring in another cat. Even better is that Imogen doesn’t go into the library at all; she certainly can, and may, but she simply doesn’t. This probably means that she doesn’t need a safe-room anymore, though it may be influenced by the fact that the boys are also using the library once more. Either way, it is a step forward for the Cosy Apartment’s newest guest.

Renn and His Buffet

My big boy, Renn, has never eaten much. He has, nonetheless, maintained his size and strength through much of his life with me. As he’s aged, however, he’s shrunk. There are now bigger boys than Renn. But, while his coordination isn’t quite what it was, his kidneys continue to fail and he suffers a chronic but mild respiratory affliction, he nonetheless is largely enjoying his later years.

Part of this is attributable to his continued appetite. But it is not easy to keep Renn fed; it never has been. His intake of soft-food is, most of the time, negligible. Even when he eats, he will spend ten minutes over a bowl and end up consuming almost nothing. Fortunately, he drinks an adequate amount of water. Even so, his hard-food is very important.

For a couple of years now, his preferred varieties have not included the high-quality food that was once the staple in the household. Instead, he likes two other kinds, another good and expensive brand, and a second, even more expensive brand, a type of food meant for diabetics (Neville also receives that.)

Recently, though, he had a taste of the food I have been giving to the outsider-cats. It is a very good brand, but I obtained a number of bags that were near their expiry dates; the cost was lower and the food still good. Now, however, Renn seems to like this variety. But he also likes the others - besides which, I have a large supply of them to get rid of, even if he prefers the latest sort. So Renn has his buffet.

Furthermore, he likes to have it set out for him whenever he asks. He could go to the food-bowls on the floor in the corridor. He would receive the same selection. But he doesn’t. And because he would rather starve than not be served, I acquiesce to his demands. And the demands are now made in a low whine that doesn’t end except when his mouth is in a food-bowl.

For all this, Renn is a pretty undemanding sort. He reminds me of the man in the old folks’ home who is easy-going and friendly, but always wants the same chair at the same table by the same window at every meal, and if he doesn’t get it, well, then he’ll skip dinner tonight, thank you - no, no, that’s all right; he wasn’t hungry, anyway - and he’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.

I can’t have that, so Renn has his buffet.

Something About the Stairs

Just a month ago, I wrote an entry describing how Zofia liked to sleep under the staircase by the bed. Yesterday evening, I walked into the sitting room and noticed the smaller staircase, leading to the ottoman and couch, had been moved. When I tried to replace it, I felt something underneath it. Apparently, the principal is smaller cat, big stairs - bigger cat, small stairs.

Imogen is still discovering her places in the Cosy Apartment.

Wild Goose Chase

I was riding home from work yesterday, turned the corner and there they were. We often see geese flying over-head, and sometimes on the roofs of buildings. This is the first time I’ve seen them on the sidewalk, ten feet in front of me.

One of them looked like he was about to cross the street. He must have thought he was a chicken. I figured that the principal street of a city was a bad place for a goose to go walking, so I managed to insert myself between them and the vehicular traffic, and ushered them to the grass strip next the building.

They seemed untroubled by their surroundings, and I suspect that they flew away - or at least up to a rooftop - soon afterward. It was an interesting sight to see. I didn’t quite chase them, though they were wild geese; I suppose the title of this blog-entry fits well enough.