Uncle Moxy

Moxy has been grooming the kittens, especially Presto and Vivace. The other three are a little more wary of him, but they will let him sniff them, and certainly don’t fear him. It seems to be Andante, though, who sees the real potential in the Mixer. He and Mox have been playing.

At first, I thought Moxy might be a little too rough for the little one. They were going at it pretty strongly on Minuet’s cat-tree. But the older fellow was merely making a lot of sound whapping the trunk of the tree, and Andante seemed to be enjoying it.

His fun was even more evident when he was in the box in the kitchen, and Moxy was outside. Andante was trying to provoke the big fat-head, who responded in a suitably restrained manner.

Of all the big cats, I guessed, and hoped, that Moxy would respond the most positively toward the kittens. He’s still a bit intimidating to them because of his size - and probably that immense noggin - but it’s clear now that he has become the Tempos’ Uncle Moxy.

Off on Holiday

Well! I completely forgot to mention that I am on holidays. I think what has thrown me off is that I moved them to a week later than usual, to accommodate having to work at a rescue-group function on the 25th of this month, a function that would take me far past my usual bed-time, and thus likely incapacitate me for the next day work, if I were going to work. My boss might look askance at me asking for that day off immediately after three weeks of holiday, so I incorporated it in my vacation. That’s a long way to inform my readers that I am now on holiday, and will be for three weeks.

I am headed off to Idylland, with its green fields, blue mountains, rolling seas, gurgling brooks, gentle rivers and little villages. I will of course still report on the doings of the gang from the Cosy Cabin, as they are all coming with me. All twelve. I hope the landlord of my rented cottage doesn’t mind…

Oh oh, it looks like a thunderstorm is approaching. I’d better make sure the east-facing windows are closed. Moxie and I love watching storms together…

Missing the Points

I had to cut Rhapsody’s claws yesterday. I had done it once before some weeks ago, and they needed them shortened - and blunted - again. Previously, she was moderately co-operative. Not this time. She must not have known what was happening the first time and didn’t care for the result. This time, she was the opposite of co-operative. Rho was Valkyrie-like in her bouncing and jetting, firing herself out of my arms every couple of seconds. Unlike Valk, however, who was simply very annoyed at the affair, Rhapsody was fearful, though I tried to keep her calm. She helpfully illustrated the need for what we were doing by stabbbing a claw-point deep enough into my finger to pull it with her when she next leaped away.

Perhaps that persuaded her she should remain more calm, and I was able to complete the process thereafter, once I had wiped away some of the blood.

Done for another couple of weeks, anyway…

The Master-mind

Andante is a bit of a worry. He may be smarter than the average cat. He watched me put away some pots and pans after washing and drying them. He observed as I opened a low-level cupboard and placed the items within. Once the cupboard doors were closed again, Andante stared at them for about half a minute. Then he stood on his hind legs and tried to reach the handles. He couldn’t reach them but he knew what they were for, and was trying to use them to open the cupboard.

Later, he noticed the handles on the micro-wave oven stand. They are knobs, rather than long handles, and so are a different shape than those on the cupboard. Yet he tried to reach them, too. They may have been simple protuberances to him, but I have the feeling that he recognised them as handles, and necessary for opening doors.

Seeing Andante learn is like watching Skynet become self-aware.

A New Sleeping Arrangement

Rhapsody is now out of the library each night. She doesn’t want back in after I close the door behind her, and seems content to be upstairs. For their part, the Tempos don’t cry for her or scratch at the door wanting to join her. They do protest that the door is shut but that’s always when they are active and want to explore; at night, they are quiescent. In the morning, Rho is waiting to rejoin her babies; she follows me about as I dress and wash, then trots down the stairs after me. I let her into the library, where the kittens, now usually tumbled together on the cat-tree’s platforms for the night, jump down to greet us. Both mum and children appear at the least to acquiesce in the new arrangement.

Last night, Rhapsody did something new and unexpected. At bed-time, she calmly leaped up on the bed and settled down at its foot on the comforter. Fortunately, though the other felines were surprised at this, they did not object. Imogen took up her place on my near side, Indigo on my far side; Sable braved the stairs (which would bring her quite close to Rhapsody) to take her usual spot on the other side of the comforter. Moxy eventually jumped down later to lie beside her, and Brazil chose the armchair. Rho remained where she was until some time after I fell asleep, at which time she moved to the sitting room.

I am very pleased that she joined us last night, even if it means five cats on the bed with me now, and that she takes up room by lying perpendicular to me, rather than parallel. She is a confident cat who clearly wants to have her place in a home. She has not expressed any interest in making friends, nor has she been hostile to anyone, except when they invade her personal space. The other beasts appear to respect her confidence but understand that she is not a menace.

Hopefully, Rhapsody will continue to sleep on the bed at night; this will establish her in the Cosy Cabin, and allow the others to grow used to her in a passive and pleasant setting.

(Pardon the atrocious lighting in the photograph. With cats, one takes the opportunity for recording images when one is presented with it.)

The Next Stage for the Young Family

Now that the Tempos are developing, I am experimenting with their independence. In a few days, they will be eight weeks old, two thirds of the way toward being old enough to be adopted. This, combined with Rhapsody evincing some cabin-fever, persuaded me to keep her out of the library through the dark hours last night.

Unfortunately, since I don’t want the kittens roaming about unaccompanied by either me or their mother, I could not keep the library door open while I slept, so Rho had either to be out or in.

As it transpired, all went well. I woke a couple of times to find Rhapsody in the bedroom, up on Minuet’s cat-tree, looking out the window; she doesn’t have much of a view from the basement. I think she may have been a little bemused as to what she should do with her new opportunity. It was night, everyone else was asleep or trying to be, so she knew that it was time for rest, I’m sure. Nonetheless, it was new to her; she didn’t have a particular spot, and was probably uncertain as to what liberties she could take. But all of that will be settled with practice.

For their part, the kittens appeared untroubled. I did hear a couple of strange noises from the library, but neither were what I would have attributed to the Tempos. Checking on them, I found them snoozing, and in the morning, they rose from various sleeping positions to greet their mum and me with no special relief.

Rho does want back into the library from time to time when given the chance to enjoy the wider spaces upstairs, so I know she still worries about her babies. But she gave no proof of anxiety during the night, did not scratch at doors or cry. Whether she stays for a short time or a long, she will need to integrate into the crowd at the Cosy Cabin, and the kittens will have to learn to do without mum. Last night seemed to give an indication of continued satisfactory progress.

That Irresistible Something

My late good friend Tucker used to join me at the dining table for meals. He liked my company, I am sure, but that at meals was for a more practical reason. The roly poly liked pretty much anything a human ate, and was certain of at least a morsel from my dish.

Moxie shares some of the Tuxter’s characteristics; a fat head, for example. The Mixer also joins me for meals. But he disappoints himself more often than not, for he doesn’t care for much of the food I eat. It smells and looks appetizing; the fact that I am consuming it must mean something to him. But offers of chicken, beef, gravy, the rare taste of ice cream; none of these appeal to him when they are brought forward. But pork is something else.

The high fat content of pork may be the difference, the aroma that may be stronger to a cat, the texture… Who can say? A cube of roasted cutlet, a bit of fried ham; the pork can be in any form, and it won’t be denied a place between Moxie’s teeth.

But his attraction to pork may be something else, something more calculated. After all, I never refuse him a piece. Why? Because he doesn’t care for anything else. So when pork is on the menu, he is undoubtedly going to receive some. I won’t withhold the one human food that he likes. There in may be the plan.

One never knows what’s going on in the feline mind.