The Mind of Mr Nevsky

Cats are astonishing creatures. I note this in many ways, and the realisation is frequently reinforced.

Neville is currently having an issue with his poop. Much of it is clinging to his bum, which he wipes on a convenient section of rug. The real trouble is that his poop seems not to blame; it is well-formed and firm. Nor is his posterior hair interfering. Indeed, this difficulty does not occur every time he visits the litter-box to deposit number two there. What I believe is happening is that he has taken to squatting too low and, in some cases, effectively sits on the debris.

That is the subject of this blog-entry only obliquely. Following each dirty incident, Neville must be cleaned. Sometimes this takes half an hour or more. (Usually in the night, allowing me some time to wake up in the wee hours before attempting to fall asleep again.) He hates it, of course, and sometimes growls and hisses during it. I try to reassure him by stroking his fur, and telling him he’s a good boy, but he is eager to put distance between himself and me afterward.

Yet Nev holds no grudge. Yesterday and the day previous, he came of his own accord to sit on my lap and permit me to pet him and give him chin-rubs. He has purred and, so far as I can tell, enjoyed our moments together; these moments, so soon after being tormented by warm water, damp cloths and towels.

I have not met a cat who holds a grudge. Certainly, cats can be annoyed at human behaviour but they seem to know the difference between the intentionally hurtful and the regrettably necessary actions. Perhaps, later, they need reassurance as much as we. But in most cases, they forgive us and remain our friends.

Neville especially has had far more than his share of pokes and prods, pills and liquids, indignities and embarrassments. Yet through it all, he has remained my friend. Such is not just the mind of Mr Nevsky, but also his heart.

This Shall the Good Man Teach His Son...

This is often where Imogen lies while I am trying to use my computer. I pet and stroke her head and face with one hand while working the keyboard and mouse with the other. It’s not efficient but it works for both of us.

I think she may have learned the advantages of such a situation from Percival, who took to lying in the same spot. He didn’t mind just sleeping while I worked, and didn’t need the extra attention.

It’s interesting how cats learn from one another. The first to walk on a regular basis from the bed to the window-ledge, using the desk as a bridge, was probably Parker. Others learned from him, and they in turn inadvertently taught others.

I wonder who in the future will see Imo lying where she is and decide to emulate her…

Dabney, We Hardly Knew You

He won’t have been at the Cosy Apartment for long – exactly two months, in fact - but Dabney will be going on a trial-adoption tomorrow.

Sometimes it happens like that in a rescue-group. We have been having a good run of adoptions lately; even so, nobody in the group tries to push a cat on anyone: if one fits the people looking and vice versa, it is tried.

Dabney will be going to live with a couple of ladies and their lady-cat. The latter is very young, newly spayed, and rambunctious. I have a feeling that Bumps will appreciate that in a friend and roommate, though whether the potential friend and roommate appreciates Bumps is another matter. I think she will, with time.

This is, however, another matter of saying ‘good-bye’ to a cat I wouldn’t mind keeping here. Dabney opened up quite a bit after Percival’s departure, and has no problem making himself at home. He is a happy fellow, with a playful nature and an active spirit. I will miss him. Perhaps it’s just as well he hasn’t been here longer.

With both energetic young mancats gone, the apartment will seem staid and quiet. The oldsters and Imogen will like that, I think. Part of me will, too. Part of me won’t.

Different With Four

The reports from Percival’s new home are good. Though they came to me only a couple of hours after his arrival there, Perce’s reactions were as I suspected. He didn’t hide, but immediately began exploring the new environment, rubbing up against objects and people and using the litter-box. After a sudden change, cats have, I’ve noticed, can be quite excited, only to have a reaction, similar to homesickness, a little later. After this, however, they start adapting. I suspect this is what Perce will experience. I will keep readers apprised.

Once again, the departure of one cat seems to make life simpler at the Cosy Apartment – though that departure is never unregretted. While I still have four to look after, feeding times are smoother; Percy can be inconstant in his gastronomical desires.

Dabney seems to be feeling much less restricted. He spent much of the morning running about, throwing himself into the nylon tunnel and the nylon cube, racing to the tops of cat-trees and down again. I think that he, as well, sees that he has greater access to me, and is using it.

The hostility that he evinced toward Percival was personal. For some reason, he disliked Percy; that didn’t change, though Percy sometimes facilitated it by following Dabs and staring at him, when avoiding the other cat would have lessened tension. My lean, bumpy-headed cat (his outsider-cat wounds have left uneven scabs and scars on his pate) has no trouble with the oldsters here, largely ignoring them, except when they are in the path of his exuberance.

As for Imogen, she dislikes Dabney, though I see no chance of a fight. She will hiss and growl at Bumps from a distance, and woe to him if he comes too close. Last night, he inadvertently narrowed propinquity, innocently trying to get by Miss Silky to see out the sliding glass door to the ditch, and elicited a fierce hiss from which he cringed like Oliver Twist confronted by the beadle. (I don’t mind Imo showing Dabney who’s in charge; I prefer it to her being frightened in her own home.) It doesn’t help that Dabs likes the cylinder-house of the cylinder-house cat-tree. Imogen prefers the top (at least in the warm weather) and having Dabney underneath her is highly undesired.

Still, all is going well here. I can leave Bumps out all night and, assuming things go well today, will leave him out tomorrow when I go to work. It’s a quiet life again in the Cosy Apartment. For now.

Permanence Begins Tomorrow

Percival is going on a trial-adoption tomorrow. His prospective new people are a young couple with a two year old female cat. I of course hope that Percy will look upon the resident feline as a potential chum and playmate, and vice versa. Perce isn’t the pushy sort, so I have high hopes, though his staying isn’t dependent upon a friendship being made at cat-level.

I will miss him. He always has something going on even, it seems, when he is sleeping. I think he will miss me, as we have become friends. But Percy is very open to new humans, and will respond well to anyone who treats him kindly. I have no doubt that he will be a part of the family in just a few weeks.

Wishes of good luck to the heavy little adventurer would be welcomed. The permanent part of his life is about to begin.

The Sanitarium's New Assistant

“Have the new cases of food come in yet, Renn?”

Dr Bellen was at his desk in his office. The warm sunshine outside bid him come enjoy the pleasant summer day, but he had administrative tasks to finish.

He was making certain that there were enough supplies at the Cosy Apartment Feline Sanitarium for the residents. He was being helped by his able assistant, Renn. Today, however, Renn was seeming a little less than able.

“Renn? Renn!”

Renn started and looked up from where he sat on his chair near the doctor. The friendly face, thinner than it once had been, was alert, but had not been. The cat was growing more deaf with time, though the human did not think that was the problem here.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh yes, I am. Food, right. Yes, it came in this morning. We have plenty, Doctor.”

Dr Bellen returned to the papers in front of him, but glanced up again.

“Something is troubling you, I think, Renn. What is it?”

The old cat looked a bit sheepish, and a little chagrined.

“Am I doing a good job as your assistant, Doctor?”

“Of course you are,” answered the human, surprised. “You always have been. I don’t think I’ve ever had reason to complain about your work, or your behaviour. Well, except when the pawdicurist has to cut your claws…”

“I’m always worried she’ll cut too close…”

Dr Bellen put down his pen and looked more steadily at the cat.

“What’s the matter, Renn?”

“You have a new assistant…”

“Imogen?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I see. You’re worried that she’s going to take your place…”

“I can still do a lot of work around here,” responded Renn. “Don’t I watch while the food tins are stacked?”

“You do.”

“Don’t I make sure everyone is alerted to spills?”

“Indeed.”

“Don’t I complain when the staff is late with the residents’ meals?”

“More often when your own meals are late,” amended the doctor, “but yes, for the most part…”

“Then why do you need a new assistant?”

Dr Bellen smiled and walked over to the couch facing the empty fireplace. In the chilly months, a generous blaze would be warming the office, but in the high summer, none was needed. He sat and patted the spot next to him. Renn slipped down from the chair and, using the little foot-stool in front of the couch, joined the doctor on the cushion.

“How long have you worked at the sanitarium, Renn?”

“Oh…” The cat mused a while, and came up with a nearly accurate figure. “A hundred years?”

“Well, close, but more like thirteen,” corrected the doctor gently, “which is a very long time for a cat. And you’re sixteen now. “

“I can still do my job. I can still be a good assistant.”

“You can and are.” The human stroked the cat’s neck and back. Renn had very soft fur for an oldster and, if it was a little thinner than it once was, it still made him look quite handsome. “But I think it’s time you were rewarded with an assistant of your own.”

“My own assistant? You mean Imogen is my assistant?” Renn was astounded. He had never thought such a thing would happen, or could happen.

“That’s right. She’ll be able to help you tell the staff when the litter has been thrown onto the floor, and make sure the residents are at their proper places at meal-times.”

“Oh…” This was different than being replaced, Renn knew, and he was impressed with his veteran status.

“But it’s quite a responsibility for you,” reminded the doctor. “You will have to show Imogen how to do everything. She’s never worked in a facility like the Cosy Apartment before. Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”

Renn nodded vigorously.

“Oh, yes, I can do that, Doctor. I will see to it that Imogen knows everything about the Cosy Apartment, from the linen closets to the laundry to the screens on the windows. You can depend on me.”

“I do, Renn, every day.” Dr Bellen regarded the cat, of whom, really, he was quite fond. “Now, what about a chest-rub before we check the store-rooms?”

Renn purred…

Enjoying the Actualities

Neville is feeling better. I can tell by how he acts and how he looks. The inflammation that caused his gums and, more noticeably, his chin, to swell, appears to have vanished. Strangely, he is eating a bit more moderately than he had been while ill, but it is still a good amount; he usually likes to have two courses: his soft food first, followed by some hard-food. Tellingly, his mouth doesn’t need wiping as much as when he was sick.

My pleasure is qualified, though. The second doctor, when examining the Nevsky, not only gave the opinion that my cat does not have cancer, but observed that a piece of bone or tooth was still in the socket from which an entire tooth should have been removed. That is likely what caused the infection. Since the fragment remains, so does the possibility of a recurrence. There is also a chance that Nev’s jaw was damaged more than superficially by the infection. There is a plan in place to take an x-ray of the jaw if need be and, though the veterinary is hesitant, I think Neville could have another dental procedure to remove the  fragment; he spent a much fuller and longer time under anaesthetic late last year.

These are, however, potential problems, and are not facing us at the moment. We are prepared for possibilities, but are enjoying the actualities. Neville is still with me, feeling good and, I believe, content.