Her Daily Round

Sable has established a routine. Every morning, I find her downstairs in the library. I placed her carrier - which serves as an alternate bed -  near her hiding spot - which was on the cold floor behind some boxes - and she soon chose to lie in there. The pad on its floor is softer and warmer than the library’s laminate, and the carrier itself offers some privacy and is cosy.

I put her soft-food meals in front of her carrier, and have placed hard-food and water in the library, too. She visits them and the litter-boxes there. She has so far remained in the library all day. Late at night - in fact, very early in the morning - I have seen her back in the cat-room, on a cat-tree, where she also eats some of the hard-food and often uses the litter-box.

While she still hides most of the time, this new pattern, carried on for three days so far, demonstrates that she is not afraid to walk through the house, albeit in the dark when most are asleep. It doesn’t mean that she hasn’t encountered some of her feline roommates. And my repeated evenings in the cat-room watching movies has demonstrated that my mere presence won’t encourage her to come out of wherever she was hiding. I think only time will bring her to see me; my being near by may actually discourage her.

I consider this new habit of Sabe’s, if it may be called that as yet, to be progress. With freedom of the whole house, she can decide at her own pace where she will go and what she will do. That and time may achieve big results.

How Magicians Do It

The kittens discovered the revolving shelves - or lazy Susans, as they are sometimes called - in the two corners of my kitchen. They appear to derive quite a bit of amusement from them, and one evening, decided to show me how some stage magicians perform disappearing tricks. Look and learn.

The Ghost of the Library

Yesterday’s blog-entry was incomplete. I wrote it during the day, after I had cleaned up the litter-boxes, fed the cats and gone to work. During my prolonged absence, the door to the cat-room was closed, with Sable safe inside. I came home and realised that yesterday’s story needed concluding.

I found that Sable had not touched any of the food left in the cat-room for her. She had not used the litter-box. This was worrying. But an explanation was at hand. I gently pulled on the enclosed cat-bed to make sure she was inside. She was not. She was not in the cat-room at all. That morning, I had inadvertently locked her out of her room.

I had thought - in my defence, I want to say naturally thought - that even if Sable had explored during the night, she had, by the time I rose, returned to the cat-room. She clearly had not. After an anxious quarter-hour, I found her in the library downstairs, hiding behind some boxes. She had probably been there all day, except, perhaps, for a trip back to the cat-room - only to find the door closed against her.

I suspect she had been without food all day - I don’t keep any downstairs for the beasts to eat - but, I think, had used the litter-box downstairs. The previous night she had wet in the cat-room’s box; the library boxes contained only poop, probably Sabe’s. In fact, I had wondered why that morning the other cats had used the upstairs litter-boxes extensively; they usually visit the ones in the library. The answer I know now is that they were likely unnerved by the unseen but clearly felt presence of something abnormal in the library…

Sable didn’t feel comfortable coming back upstairs during the daytime. I believed that she would return once I had gone to bed. Sure enough, I woke about 12.30 this morning and, having left the cat-room door open for her, saw her on a cat-tree in that room. In the morning, the litter-box had been used and the hard-food bowl kept in the cat-room over-night (Sable has the privilege of over-night refreshment) had been emptied: she’d gone without food most of the previous day in the library, after all.

But the story isn’t over yet.

This morning, she was gone again from the cat-room. After I had seen her at 12.30, she had evidently gone exploring and, once again, been trapped downstairs when I woke. (If I had been thinking, I would have shut the cat-room door when I spied her at 12.30.) She was hiding again, though it took me longer to find her, as she had chosen a different location. This time, I placed water and food downstairs for her to enjoy during her little exile, and left the cat-room door open, in case she wanted to return.

This adventurous side to Sable took me by surprise. I thought she might explore, but not to this extent, and for her to do the same thing twice suggests that she wanted to roam a bit, to learn about her new environment, that it wasn’t an accident the first time. On the other hand, until she becomes braver, at least with her fellow felines, she will inconvenience herself by feeling she must hide much of the time.

Nonetheless, this is a step forward for my hopefully-soon-to-be-formerly-feral, and the more she learns about her new world, the more comfortable she will be in it.

Sable in the Dark

Sable’s integration is moving very slowly. I can understand her reluctance to mix with the others, though I have seen her at the threshold of the cat-room several times. Last night, I decided to move the procedure forward.

I have been closing the cat-room door each night, to give Sable a chance to be alone. But she has that chance all day. If there is a good opportunity to leave the door open for a long period, it is at night; I would be asleep, most of the time, but would still be present if anything untoward happened; it would be dark; there would be minimal activity among the other beasts. The worry I had was that Sable receives a meal about bed-time (her schedule is different than the others’, but will be changing soon); I didn’t want it uneaten by the time that I opened the door to possible other diners. Even more importantly, Sable usually visits her litter-box at night. Would she, if there were visitors about?

I needn’t have worried. Sable finished most of her meal before my own bed-time, so I left her door open. This morning, I found that she had indeed used the litter-box (her trademark is throwing much of the litter onto the pad I place for that purpose in front of the box.) She was clearly not disturbed by the other cats’ presence (if indeed they bothered her at all) and her bodily functions were not disrupted.

I will do this most nights now. Sable will still have my work-days to herself, with her door closed. The nights will be her time for exploring and socialising, if she wishes. It will also allow her to grow accustomed to me telling the kittens at three o’clock in the morning to stop playing and go to sleep. There are many traditions she will have to learn…

And So, Contrary, to Bed

When Valkyrie was confined to the cat-room following her spay-surgery, she was given a new cat-bed to keep her warm. Being a cat and, what’s more, a kitten, she never used it. Once she was free, I moved the bed out to the sitting room. I thought it might give Brazil a place to lie, instead of squeezing Neville out of his heated bed.

Once again, my plan was foiled by cats. It was Nev who decided that the new bed was just the spot for him. Despite it not being heated, and by an outside wall, he has taken to curling up in its high-sided space. I am sure he is comfortable and warm, and certainly Brazil, who now feels at leisure to occupy the older heated bed, has no problem with the Nevsky’s decision.

But I’m beginning to think my cats feel it’s their duty to be contrary…

Everything In Its Place

I mentioned previously how Imogen had taken to sleeping on the bathmat. I recently washed the mat; it had to hang up to dry. It was absent from the bathroom for a couple of nights, so Imo slept on the bed with me. The process of cleaning the mat made it more pliable, so I put it over the rim of the bathtub afterward. I thought it could stay there, rather than on the floor all the time. Imogen, though, wondered why it wasn’t in its proper place. I came in later to find this.

I guess Miss Silky will be sleeping in the bathroom again for a while.

Warmth for the Winter

The Cosy Cabin has a forced-air furnace, which means hot-air vents are to be found in the various rooms. This is a revelation to the beasts, none of whom lived with me so long ago as to remember the house I had with similar heating. Used to heat coming from hot-water pipes laid out along the bases of walls, the warmth blowing from certain points in the floor have appealed to some of them.

I remember my Josie liked the vents in the old house, though she especially enjoyed the air conditioned cool air blowing through them in the summers. For now, however, the currents cats are enjoying the heat.