The Sun in the Afternoon

The sun’s light is shining more and more into the cosy apartment. While it has been on this trend since just before Christmas, it seems more noticeable now that it is March. Perhaps it is simply that I and the cats are impatient for it to shine directly through the windows, now that the month of the vernal equinox has arrived.

In any case, it is nice to see the natural light illumine the beasts as they lie in their favourite spots and feel the warmth on their fur. We still have a ways to go until spring arrives, both chronologically and meteorologically, however. These pictures were taken on Saturday. Sunday it snowed, and the temperature will be cold all this week.

But the cats know a change is coming.

Walking Around the World

Sometimes, I notice a sudden change in my cats’ behaviour. I realise that something has altered, and I know just when it happens.

Last Sunday was such a time. Parker, the new foster-cat, was out and about, released from the library. It has been the habit of the perma-cats to find spots, usually on furniture - human or feline - where they will stay for the duration of Parker’s release. Any ventures toward food or even the litter-boxes have waited until Parker went back into the library at certain times of the day.

Sunday, however, both Renn and Tucker left their defensive positions and wandered over to where the food bowl usually is found. (When Parker is loose, it is made unavailable.) Parker wandered between the two boys, and they didn’t flinch. It was so uncharacteristic of the situation since our guest’s arrival that I knew there had been a change.

A couple of nights ago, Cammie descended from her place at the top of the highest cat-tree to use the litter-box, knowing that Parker was free. The orange boy remained snoozing on the bed while Cammie went about her business - I made sure that he did not interrupt her - and the process may have been quite different had the princess met Parker on her way. But the fact that she used the litter-boxes, aware of Parker’s presence, when previously she had waited, was another change.

Last evening, Tucker cautiously ambled (if one can cautiously amble) to a water-bowl for a drink, pausing every few feet for signs of Parker’s approach. Parker was, once again, loose but, once again, snoozing on my bed. The roly poly satisfied his thirst, then went back to the hammock from which he had come.

Each of these occurrences were small events, and none of the perma-cats is oblivious to Parker. There are still hisses and growls (especially from Josie), and the road all must travel to acceptance is a long one. But, though these steps are tiny, they are steps, and in the right direction. If one wants to walk around the world, that is how one starts.

Continuing Adjustments

The Diabetes Boys have had adjustments made to their treatments.

First, I will speak of my guest-cat, Parker. After his doctor’s visit a couple of weeks ago, his dose of insulin was lowered, and I ran a ‘curve’ on him this past weekend. The results were promising, but his high numbers are, the veterinary believes, a ‘rebound’ from having too much medicine. She has had me lower his dosage by another unit, both morning and evening. This will continue for a fortnight, until Parker has another curve. We shall see what results that brings us. Until then, I will watch the hefty boy carefully, observe his drinking and wetting, the amount and texture of the lumps he leaves in the litter-box.

He is doing well in the cosy apartment. He is spending more time in the sitting room with me and the other cats, which is good. It allows him to be seen, and to be seen doing harmless, everyday cat-things, like sleeping.

Meanwhile, Tucker’s numbers have not been satisfactory. They have been constant, but not as low as his doctor and I would like, so his dosage is going up by a unit, morning and evening. In fact, he and Parker will now receive the same amounts, until further notice.

I am a firm believer in the well-being of the mind affecting the well-being of the body. Tucker continues to purr and play and be cheerful. This is less the case when he observes Parker loose, but he is growing more accustomed to our guest. Parker’s advent has been much less disruptive to the perma-cats than may have been the case, and my new foster-cat is a good-natured fellow. He is finding his place in the new setting. With peace of mind, effective medicine and a good diet, his and the roly poly’s health will improve.

Memento Mori

Three years ago today, my friend Bear-Bear died. I don’t mention the BB as much as I do Tungsten, who died about a year later. Tungsten was my first cat, someone with whom I had a special connection. But Bear-Bear was special, too, and I miss him.

He was a foster-cat, whom I should have adopted at the end. He died of what I believe was cancer. He became more and more sick, eventually refused his food, and died at the veterinary hospital. He was with me for ten months.

The things that impressed me most about the BB was that he was hostile to no one. I can’t recall hearing him hiss. Tungsten disliked any feline who did not do as she wanted; that was her prerogative as a top-cat. Even Tucker and Renn hiss at other cats from time to time. But Bear-Bear was accepting to all, and wanted to be accepted by all in return.

He spoke almost conversationally, usually with a “raa”, though occasionally, he would give a “rao” with the tone of mild astonishment. It was difficult to believe that he was ever frightened or upset when he talked like that.

Bear-Bear came and went, passing through my life relatively swiftly. But he left behind memories of a pleasant, cheerful cat who merely wanted to be everyone’s friend. Whether or not he achieved that, he became my friend. I miss him.

Backward Joy

As anyone reading this blog may know, Cammie likes to lie on my chest and purr. She will lie very close to my head, so close she can bump my chin with her own head now and then. That’s pleasant for both of us. The other night, however, she varied her routine. For some reason, she faced the other way. That was pleasant for only one of us.

The princess looked toward my feet, while presenting her nether region to me. I can’t even write that it was a view of her bum, because it was too close for my eyes to focus on it. I managed to fold her tail down between myself and more objectionable parts of feline anatomy, but that solved only part of the problem. One of her rear feet, on which she places most of her weight, was squarely upon my larynx. My cat was slowly strangling me.

But she was purring, so I was loathe to interrupt her.

Fortunately, before I passed out, or died, Cammie ended our time together. I usually regret that moment, but this time, I was curiously relieved. I’m not sure which I found more offensive: the princess’s paw pushing into my throat, or her bum aimed at my face. But at least she was enjoying herself…

A Room With a View

My new foster-cat, Parker, enjoys looking out windows. In this, he is certainly not unique and, in fact, he may not care for looking out windows more than many of his fellow felines. But he does like having a window handy for when the desire strikes him.

When he first came to live with me, Parker was sequestered in the library pending the start of his integration. He still spends the night there and stays in there while I am absent. The room has a nice window, with a short bookcase under it for his convenience. I don’t think he knew what the window was at first. He may have considered it just a source of light, as he didn’t want to look out of it; I had to put him on the bookcase a couple of times before he realised that he had a room with view. Now, he can be found there, and at other windows, from time to time.

But just in case you think he always looks like a sleek forest animal, I’ll include this photograph.

The Next Stage

Parker continues his attempts to befriend Renn. Earlier this week, I thought he had gone too far.

My big boy was lying in the saddle of the taller cat-tree in the bedroom. Parker was on the ledge under the window, peering outside. Renn had no problem with this situation; he had acquiesced in it on previous occasions. I, for my part, felt no qualms in leaving them alone.

But when I was in the sitting room, I heard a screeching, squealing, yowling fracas, and hurried into the bedroom to find Renn lying in the cat-tree, his ears back, his fangs bared - and rather miffed. Parker was huffing and puffing - which he does when he is worked up - off to the side. I immediately started talking to the two boys, petting them and trying to calm them down.

I have no idea what caused such a commotion, though I have a clue from the fact that Renn was angry and upset, while Parker was startled and almost contrite. I believe that, recalling how he had lie down next to Renn on the sitting room couch the previous day, Parker thought it only natural to do so on the cat-tree. After all, Renn had voiced little objection on the couch, right? Well, climbing into a saddle of a cat-tree, which is filled already with a large cat, a large cat nervous about the proximity of another, newer cat, is rather different than lying beside him on a couch. This was not a fight; there was no fur flung, there were no injuries. I did think, however, that any possibility of friendship between Renn and Parker was over.

The next day, however, I was relaxing on the couch in the sitting room. Renn was in the opposite corner, just a foot and a half away. Parker jumped up on to my lap. I was just a stepping stone, however: a few minutes later, the orange fellow slipped off and lie down next to Renn. My big boy stayed.

As may be seen from the accompanying photograph, Renn was hardly comfortable with the situation. Parker, on the other hand, seemed to think things were quite pleasant. The promising aspect is that I left after about ten minutes, and both cats remained for another ten. Renn dropped to the floor after that, with no fuss.

Clearly, he is willing to tolerate Parker’s closeness under certain circumstances. Under others, he growls at him. But that doesn’t concern me too much; I am less discouraged by such behaviour than I am encouraged by the fact that the two will lie together, touching each other, even after a melée like the one in the cat-tree saddle. The sitting room couch seems a neutral ground, and I will foster further attempts at agreement there, as well as at other locations that seem to exert a positive influence. Who knows where the next stage to friendship will be?