The Cat Who Stares at Christmas Trees

Along with being a prodigious smeller, Renn is also a superb starer. He can sit and stare at something for a great many minutes. At least, I assume that he’s staring at something. I never actually comprehend at what he is staring, so he may in fact go into a kind of ‘catatonic trance...

I believe, however, that such concentration is always part of his on-going studies of the world around him. His attempts to understand his environment involve watching it, and then interpreting what he sees. Or having a good lie-down. The latter may be a form of meditation, by which he reasons through what he has observed.

This time, I caught my big boy staring at the Christmas tree. It was not a direct stare, but rather off to the side. Nonetheless, he may have been contemplating the socio-religious significance of the holiday as symbolised by the tree. More probably, he was wondering why his human once again put up a wooden and plastic ornament which had neither taste (so he was informed by Cammie) nor smell. Either way, his thoughts on the matter would prove interesting, were I able to read them.

One day, after we have both passed on, he may feel free to tell me what he was thinking about, what he found so absorbing about this moment, and what he saw then. For my part, I will then understand all there is to know about cats. And why they stare.

Another Christmas Day for the Memory

Christmas Day was enjoyable at our household. The cats let me sleep in late - well, late for me, which is, unfortunately, never very late anymore. I received a number of thoughtful gifts from friends and family. One of them, from two of my friends here in town, was a Christmas dinner. Every item was prepared and it was brought over to my house to be cooked in my oven. The turkey turned out very well, and I ate far too much of it and its accompaniments.

The beasts spent the day alternately sleeping and welcoming/avoiding guests, depending upon their temperaments. I was most pleased at being able to stay home with them and watch them be content.

I hope Christmas Day was happy for you, and that the Yuletide continues so until its Twelfth Day ends.

Merry Christmas to All!

Christmas is almost upon us. I like to retain the Spirit of the season through all Twelve Days, though it’s difficult as eleven of them are no longer celebrated much. It used to be that Christmas would start on December 25th, not just be on that date. Regardless of modern modes, the Yuletide remains my favourite holiday, and my beasts and I have traditions that we follow each year.

One of them is the making of the Christmas card, which I send to family and friends, and share with the Cat Blogosphere. It always has something to do with my cats - no surprise - and this time Tungsten takes the spotlight.

This year, I miss my friend Bear Bear, who died in February. He wasn’t with us for long, but the impression he made will last a lifetime. Cammie left us but returned, thank goodness, after an adventure in how not to adopt a cat. And now Kola shares our home, and will enjoy Christmas with us.

I will be writing again during the holidays, but not until after Boxing Day, so I will wish everyone - human, feline, canine and of any other description - a merry Christmas. May this wonderful time of year be truly full of wonder for you and yours.

Kola Not on My Lap

Readers may recall that in November, someone was interested in the possibility of adopting Kola. But the possibility was far away, in Seattle, and the person in question too particular. She decided against Kola because he is not a lap-cat.

The trouble with having a list of characteristics that your pet must have is that pets - cats and dogs - have personalities that change. As we who live with and love them know, part of the fun is seeing them come up with new behaviour as they mature or grow accustomed to a situation. Those who don’t have cats undoubtedly dread the conversation beginning with “Do you know what so-and-so did yesterday?” That phrase is almost always delivered with surprise and delight. Sometimes with exasperation, but mostly surprise and delight.

Kola is not a lap-cat. But he may be. In a household where there is less rivalry for the single lap, or where he is less concerned about the proximity of other cats, the Floof King may become a lap-cat quite swiftly. But even with me, he is edging toward that status. If the woman in Seattle had been less demanding and more flexible, she would have seen this for herself, and enjoyed the journey of discovering Kola in the process.

For once, a few evenings ago, no other cat had come to sit with me when I found a moment to relax on the couch with a cup of tea. Tungsten was asleep - actually sleeping, not just resting - in her beloved heated cat-bed, Tucker was elsewhere and Renn had yet to come out to join me. Josie  rarely sits with me and Cammie was up a cat-tree. Kola was exploring the sitting room, talking and talking and talking. I invited him up on to the couch and, after a minute’s hesitation, he jumped up.

Now, he may not be a lap-cat, but look at how he lies next to me. He is a friendly fellow who likes people. He loves attention. I am sure that several more instances such as this, and he will see what a lap is like. He may have been a lap-cat in his previous home and he is just very cautious about being one with me. But the lady in Seattle missed out, and Kola will be someone else’s pleasure to discover.

And notice how undisturbed Kola is with my big boy near. Renn is every new cat’s friend.

Cammie and the Christmas Tree

My Christmas tree is up and decorated. This is Kola’s first Christmas with me. As much as I like him, I hope it’s his last, as well; that cat would be such a good choice for adoption. Anyway, I was worried about what he might do to a Christmas tree. As it turns out, he was mildly curious about it, but only briefly. After that, he appeared uninterested in it.

The same cannot be said for Cammie. My Siamese princess was with me during last year’s Yuletide and, so far as I can recall, did not cause me problems with my tree. This year, however, she has taken to attempting to eat the ‘needles’.

Mine is a fake tree, and the needles are of soft plastic. To be honest, I don’t think she can eat many of them. They are too short and too strongly fastened onto the tree; she can’t get a good grip on them. But she tries, and will sometimes gnaw on a whole branch. The little needles do fall off from time to time, so she may get those.

I don’t believe the needles will do her damage if they are consumed. They will probably go right through her. But I don’t want to take chances, so I may have to put the tree away when I am absent and bring it out again later. I hope to get Cammie used to its presence; she doesn’t nibble at it all the time even when she can. So it’s hard to gauge her fascination with it.

But I was pleased to note an indication of how far that cat has come in her trust of people. I had to move her along when I caught her eating the tree. She knows full well when I want her out of an area and eventually she does go, grumbling and sometimes hissing. She did that in this case. Then, not ten minutes later, she was up on my lap at the table, purring away. She stayed there for half an hour. Being scolded is one thing; a warm lap and a petting session is quite another.

The Quiet Life

I think Tungsten may be losing her hearing. It’s certainly not gone; she can hear things, but not as well as she should, or did.

I draw this conclusion because now she is frequently startled by my approach when she is not looking at it. Coming up behind her, or in a blind spot, will cause her to jump when she sees me, as if I were appearing from nowhere beside her.

I have tried clapping and making noises while Tungsten is turned away and found that she usually pays them no attention unless I am near to her. I must now remember to let her see me coming.

This may be my imagination, but my orange one is getting old, so one must expect certain debilities to materialise. But she is only fourteen (estimated) and has many years ahead of her. She spends much of her time sleeping and is not interested in much that the world has to offer, but then, she has always been like that. Tungsten still surprises me from time to time: this weekend she ran up from the litter-boxes in the basement and shot across the ground floor, causing the other cats to wonder what that orange blur had been. She was just having a little fun.

She’s not out of the game yet, and won’t be for a long while. This is just a reminder that sometimes the game grows a little quieter for some in its later stages.

My Werewolf

Cats are one step away from terrifying jungle predators. Well, maybe half a dozen steps. As evidence of this, I submit these pictures of Renn. Does this creature not resemble some kind of lyncanthropic monster brought low by the silver bullets of the peasants just in time? Look at the teeth; look at the eyes. A crazed killing machine!

And you should have heard him whine like a little weenie baby when I had to move him afterward. Blood-curdling!