When the Evening Comes to Set Her Free

Indigo died yesterday at 4.17 p.m. I took her to the hospital to have her examined because of her waning appetite and heavy breathing. The doctor almost at once expressed dissatisfaction at the sound of Indie’s lungs. An x-ray was taken and they showed that Indigo’s lungs had partially collapsed; less than half of them seemed to be filling with air. Indie was having difficulty breathing and was in pain.

What caused this condition is unknown. The doctor suggested heart failure, but she thought the culprit was whatever had created the lumps on Indie’s mammary glands; probably cancer. The cause was less significant at this time than the result: Indigo was suffering, and there was no relief for her. I let her go.

When the night returns just like a friend;

When the evening comes to set me free;

When the quiet hours

That wait beyond the day

Make peaceful sounds in me.

The lyrics of this Neil Diamond song make me think of Indigo. Beset by ailments from before the time she came to me, she is free of them now. When the evening came, she was free, her breathing was quiet, and she knows only peaceful sounds now.

Health Notes

Earlier in the week, Rhapsody stopped eating. She seemed fine otherwise, but simply didn’t want to eat anything, not her usually preferred food, and nothing else. It was one of those frustrating situations in which the cat looks at you for the next selection of food you have to offer, only to reject it as well.

Fortunately, late Wednesday, she started eating again, and yesterday was eating well. In fact, her consumption seems a little more moderate now: previously, she was eating and eating and always hungry - which is understandable considering her low weight, the fact that the kittens still are nursing, and her unspayed metabolism. Now, though she is hungrier than my other beasts, she reaches her limit during meals. I am happy to keep her fed as much as she wants, to put some weight on her, but also happy to see her in-take at a more natural level.

More concerning is Indigo. This week, she too stopped eating much, though hers was a different sort of reluctance. She was simply not consuming decent amounts. She had an appetite, but not for long. Then, she seemed to start breathing rather heavily, and the growths along her abdomen feel, to me, to be increased in number and size. Unfortunately, since these growths are possibly cancerous, such developments may be the next stage in her failing health.

Rhapsody is scheduled for her booster shots today, so I called the veterinary hospital to see if they could fit Indie in for an examination. They agreed, so I will be taking both cats in the afternoon.

Your Black Cat May Vary

I had to wash the bedspread last night. Though this did not involve movement of furniture, it nonetheless changed the setting for the cat’s non-activities, and threw a spanner into my recognition of the beasts.

Usually, when she chooses to lie on the bed, Imogen lies on the near side of the pillow. I came into the room, greeted Miss Silky and nearly petted her. That would have been a mistake. It was Sable.

Sable! Why had she chosen that spot? Was it a mere matter of needing a black cat there? Had she longed for the spot all along? Did it seem a different corner of the bed without the bedspread? Was she as confused as I?

In any case, if I had touched her, Sabe would have panicked and fled; she still doesn’t like any physical contact with me, and probably never will.

But she does look peaceful there, doesn’t she?

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.