Uncle Moxy Takes Exception

The Tempos were manic when released from the library this afternoon. They raced around, chasing each other, wrestling, bowling each other over, throwing each other against walls, jumping, leaping, falling… They no longer need to struggle to attain the plateau of the bed. This can cause them to appear as if by magic in front of a cat already on the bed, accompanied only by the rather startling sound that comes from a kitten making sure its jump is complete. (We humans call it claws ripping cloth.)

Though Indigo is a little more tolerant of the Tempos on the bed, she did not like the sudden appearance of Andante immediately before her, and gave a sharp and ferocious growl at being woken abruptly. (Who wouldn’t?) No harm came to Andante, though he was taken aback.

But, interestingly, Moxy had a reaction. The Mixer was relaxing with Sable on Min’s cat-tree just beyond the foot of the bed. As soon as Indie growled, Moxy sat up and gave several instances of his characteristic short yowls. Once Andante moved away from Indigo, and the latter settled down again, so did Moxy. (I was present, urging Indie to calm herself.)

Whether this was the big fat-head simply reacting to another cat’s anger, or Moxy saying something about being nice to Andante, I don’t know. Maybe some day he’ll tell me.

Theory Versus Reality

When the kittens were about to eat solid-food for the first time, I tried to devise a way in which each would have his share of food without the hungriest or the most dominant taking from everyone else. I thought of putting each in his own box at feeding time, each with his own dish. Everything would be segregated and individual and fair.

That was the idea. This is the reality.

The kittens were not about to stay in boxes, nor would they be hungry all at the same time, nor would they eat or want the same amounts. What I do now is pile food on a dish and let who wants to eat, eat. Then, after the contents of that dish have been consumed - I am reminded of the story that piranhas can strip a cow’s carcass of its meat in a minute - I put another amount, usually half of the first portion, on the dish for those who are still peckish or who missed out.

For learning about raising kittens and cats, there is nothing like first-hand experience. There is nothing like reality.

A Truce

Lynn and Precious were quite right in terming the arrangement among the adult girlcats in regard to the Tempos a truce. It is a precarious one, however, as may be illustrated as follows.

Imogen’s favourite spot on the bed is on the near side of the pillow. Indigo will usually occupy a more general position, which will sometimes seem to block Imo from reaching her place. In this instance, Miss Silky climbed to the foot of the bed from the stairs at the far end. She then gauged conditions, Indie’s alertness, her probable reaction, etc. Then she slowly moved, like a panther slinking through the undergrowth, to the head of the bed, where she guardedly settled down. Indigo did not react hostilely, though the cats hissed at each other numerous times. I had to assure them that it was ‘all right’ each time they hissed. They would turn away, until something reminded them of the other’s presence. There would be more hisses.

Eventually, the girls dozed. But the proximity in the end was too much for Indigo and she decided to put more distance between her and Imogen. That accomplished, both beasts could slumber without insecurity, an insecurity they themselves create. Such is the nature of truces.

Safety in Numbers

The Tempos can be overwhelming at times. Five of them, all at once, all running about, exploring, investigating, jumping, swatting… Even Moxy can have enough of them now and then, while the big girls - Imogen, Indigo and Sable - aren’t too keen on the kittens to begin with.

I’ve noticed that the perma-cats are spending more time in the bedroom these days, and on the bed itself. The little ones invade the bedroom, as they do every other space that isn’t actually blocked to their tiny feet, and they have no difficulty climbing onto the bed. But they know the big girls don’t care for their antics, and to find two or three or more big cats already there when they reach the plateau of the bedspread is a bit daunting. The Tempos tend not now to go on to the bed, though they treat everywhere else as their playground.

The lady-cats have found, even when they don’t really like each other, that there is safety in numbers.

The Tempos Go To the Hospital

The Tempos went to the veterinary hospital yesterday to receive their first vaccinations, de-worming and a general examination. All are in good health and developing as they should. They did well during their first outing. All of them reacted in some way to the injection except Largo, who seemed not to feel it. Vivace wasn’t going to be examined or poked without a fight; she wanted to be free and unheld.

Upon returning to the Cosy Cabin, they seemed not to feel the effects of the vaccinations at all. They ate, they played, they slept; they did seem more worn out than usual, but that was to be expected with their initial field trip. It was an anxious and unprecedented event for them. Photographs were taken. The kittens ate well during the night and this morning, and are now full of their normal exuberance and vigour.

I have noticed something about their interaction with the adults. Those cats who disliked their presence no longer growl and hiss constantly at them. Imogen used to express her displeasure just seeing them across the room. Now there is watchful silence, and no retreat to where the kittens can’t go, possibly because there is now nowhere they can’t go. For their part, the Tempos are more respectful of their elders, and they have learned which ones they can approach and which they cannot.

There’s so much to discover when the world is new.

Foolish Ties

Today I at last threw out Neville’s ear medicine. I had bought a good supply of it three days before Christmas last year. Nev died two weeks later, on New Year’s Day. I was quite confident that he would stay with me for another few months, maybe half a year, or longer, thanks to the Solensia. He was instead felled by a pulmonary thrombosis; perhaps it had the effect it did because he was weak already. But I didn’t need the medicine after that.

Disposing of such personal items as medicine seems final. It diminishes Neville’s ties with his life on Earth, with the Cosy Cabin, and with me. Keeping them is, really, for myself, just as keeping a very old cat alive when it is in his best interests to let him go, is for the human, and not the animal. I didn’t have to make that choice, of course, and it is an extremely difficult one to make. But I would have preferred it to the way Neville departed.

But now my old lion is whole, and scoffs at such medicine. He would probably tell me that I should have tossed it out months ago, that it was foolish to keep it so long. But that is how we are with our pets, we humans: rather foolish. When it comes to my friend Nev, I suspect I will always be so foolish.

Her Own Cat

Recently, I bought a mat for the side-door. It turned out to be too small for its purpose, so I bought another. This one was of sufficient dimensions; I kept the first as an adjunct, and the two work well together.

Indigo likes periodically to lie on the door-mats. Yesterday, I found her on the larger, even though my shoes were already occupying part of it. I moved the shoes to the smaller mat, so she would have more room. Indie moved as well. I thought it might be the shoes that attracted her - their shape, the contours, the way her body fit over them - but no, she pushed them off the smaller mat.

I think what it came down to is that Indigo, being the independent lady-cat that she is, simply wanted to make her own decisions. If hers and mine coincided, then she would make enough of a difference to demonstrate her capacity in this matter.

Five minutes later, she was back sleeping on the bed.