Off To Her New Life

Xandria left to start her new life an hour ago. I have no worries as to whether she will be loved and receive the attention she requires. The only worry I have is that she won’t have a playmate of her own age. She will, however, have a six year old brother. She and Brazil (three years old) started chasing each other a couple of weeks ago, and Shimmer has wanted to be the older sibling to her, the way Moxy has been, for some time. Once the resident cat in Xan’s new home sees how active and playful she is, I suspect he will want some part of that, and I think Xandria will try to initiate some fun, too - though I’ve no doubt the older feline will view it as annoyance at first. That’s usually the way.

I will miss Xandria. She had changed her opinion of me during her isolation; her reticence was gone, she didn’t resist being petted or picked up and she purred more. Hopefully that attitude will be transferred to her new people. I am sure it will be; the only question is that of time. And for a kitten like Xan, there will be plenty of that.

When Someone Discovers Your Favourite Place

The top of the refrigerator probably isn’t Moxy’s favourite place, but he does go there from time to time, following Imogen’s example. Valkyrie no doubt saw them up there periodically and decided to try it. I suspect the Mixer is wishing she wouldn’t try it when he is there.

Well, I Never...

Xandria did very well at the hospital; her surgery was untroubled.

When she came home, she was of course wearing a little cone, to prevent her from licking her incision. I usually take a cone off a cat, and then see if she will bother with the wound. I did this with Xan, placing her cone on an upper shelf of a bookcase. I watched her for an hour and she was more sleepy than annoyed. I fed her a small portion of food and went about my business. Later, I came back to find this.

She had put her own cone back on.

How? I can only speculate. An end-table was tipped over, so I think she saw the cone on the bookshelf and, for some reason, wanted to investigate it. She probably jumped from the table - that action in her condition causes me to wince - onto the bookshelf, where she knocked the cone to the floor. There, she stuck her head in it to smell and - voila.

Silly cat.

Anyway, she went the night without a cone and her incision looks no different than when she came home. She has eaten, used the litter-box and is too active for my liking. I think she will be fine without the cone. If she will keep from putting it on.

Xandria's Next Step

Three weeks after her friend, Valkyrie, had her spay-surgery, little Xandria is going for hers. Afterward, she will spend a couple of days by herself in the cat-room, and then it will be off on her trial-adoption. Her sequestration will probably end Friday evening, though I may just keep her in isolation for that night, too, since she leaves for her new home Saturday morning. She may have some rough play with Valk if the two meet Friday night and, though she should be healed enough for some fun by then - that’s how long Valkyrie was kept apart from the others - another evening of relative quiet won’t do her harm.

In any case, Xan is at the hospital now, awaiting the next step to her future.

The Anonymous One

I don’t write too much about Indigo. She leads a quiet life. I wish it would be louder, really. She rarely leaves the bedroom, though sometimes she goes into the cat-room, or down the corridor toward the kitchen, without ever entering that room. She has been to the basement once. She has no interest in looking out windows, and none in playing. She can usually be found on her armchair, and rarely looks happy.

She does seem to enjoy my company, and I try to spend time with her each day. She dislikes the other cats, and her ideal home would be with one or two humans and no other living beings. Indie has, in fact, progressed a great distance in her relationship with me. When she first came to live with me, she was distrustful of my touch, and it was only when she started lying beside me on the apartment’s library couch that I was able to touch her. Even then, she didn’t really care for it.

Now, I can pet her, rub her head, even pick her up and set her on my lap. Touching her tail or bum was an invitation to being scratched; now, it annoys her, but she is tolerant. If I needed to examine that region for any reason, I am confident that I can. Furthermore, I can give her insulin for her diabetes without difficulty.

Therein lies the point of this entry. Indigo is doing well on insulin. I don’t check her blood-glucose as often as I should. It used to be because she would object vociferously to me poking her ear to draw blood. Now, even that is much easier an exercise. However, because she tends to shake her head or rub her ear against anything handy as soon as I poke her, I can rarely get the bead of blood I require. Nonetheless, I was able to do so last night, at a moment at which it should have been at its nadir (lowest point of the curve following an injection.) Her number was 6.7, which is perfect. At last, a diabetic cat who is responding as she should to her medicine.

Diabetes frequently makes finding an adopter for a cat difficult. Not many people want to tackle the chores and expenses that diabetes entails. But Indigo’s condition is steady and managed; she is healthy. This relatively anonymous cat is ready to be known.

The Last of the Sensor

I at last was able to pull off the useless sensor that had been put on Neville exactly a month ago, and which never worked. It cost a lot of money and was an inconvenience to him, but at least it never bothered him while he wore it. Taking it off did not appear to trouble him either, though it had when I tried it even last week.

No hair grew under the circular device, except where the sensor entered the skin; at that point, there was a small triangular piece that was different than the rest of the underside of the sensor. Interestingly, some of Nev’s hair next to the sensor has turned a light grey. A little patch of fur an inch to the left has turned a similar hue.

Fortunately, the amount of money I spent on the sensor has not gone entirely to waste. The kittens found where I had left it on a counter and knocked it to the floor. They spent some happy twenty minutes playing with it.

Welcome Home, Human; Let's Play

Imogen has developed a little game that she likes to play when I come home. She will wait in the bathroom and hunch down in the sink, pretending to be hiding, any residual water from the morning having dried by then. I will push her over and rub her head and sides roughly and act like I’m banging her head against the porcelain. She will make squeaking sounds. When I stop, she will twist about in the basin, inviting more. This will go on for some minutes, Miss Silky’s paws flexing in delight as I act like I’m beating her up. Then I will retreat and she will spy on me some more. Then we’ll repeat the process.

It’s all good fun until I have to clean the black hair from the sink to keep it from clogging up the drain…

Her Adventure Starts Soon

It was confirmed today that Xandria will be going for a trial-adoption next Saturday morning. It will be a sad day here in the Cosy Cabin, but the tiny one will be starting the rest of her life, and her time here will soon be no more than a vague memory. I think this will be a successful adoption. Xan will need more time to grow accustomed to her new humans than would Valkyrie, but she will. There are two of them to give her plenty of attention, and only one cat, a six year old male, who is easy-going. I hope that he will be a big brother to her, and maybe a playmate.

Even so, I know someone here who will miss his little sister.

Moxy Expands (His Horizons)

Moxy is feeling a little left out. All the talk about how well Sable is doing - and she is doing very well: this morning when I woke, she was still upstairs, in the sitting room - has obscured his own achievement.

Moxy has spent most of his time in the bedroom since our arrival in the Cosy Cabin. He has been fed there; the bedroom has a water-bowl and a litter-box. He has been anxious elsewhere, especially since he is being bullied by Brazil. But recently, he has started coming to the kitchen, especially at meal-times. It does cause a bit more chaos at dinner- and snack-time, since the kittens already eat swiftly, then try to steal from each other’s or some other cat’s remaining food. It is a hurry to keep them occupied with their own bowls, and Moxy tends to be the same way - or his is just another convenient bowl for the babies to raid.

Nonetheless, now that Mox will mix, I don’t want to discourage him, so I feed him in the kitchen, too. Sometimes, he comes out perhaps just to be in a different room. And, just as promising, he has begun playing. He is still afraid of the toys I use, such as a string-toy, and he’s so far bemused by the red dot. But he has been active with the fuzzy mice, which I will encourage.

This very friendly, fat-headed boy is quite adoptable, but as he finds more courage and a bit more confidence, he will be even more so. And until then, it will make his life in the Cosy Cabin better.

Not Your Usual Cat

Just before going to bed each night, I make sure I know where each of the cats is. Last night, I could not find Sable. I checked the usual spots, and the unusual spots. She wasn’t in the library, or under my bed, or in the cat-room. I continued to say good night to the various beasts. When I entered the unlighted sitting room to tell Neville I was going to bed, I saw a dark cat on a cat-tree by the window. I thought it was Imogen, before remembering that I had just seen Miss Silky in the bathroom. It wasn’t Moxy; he was snoozing on the bed. I turned on the lamps and saw that it was Sable.

My ghost continues to surprise me.

New Spaces For the Ghost

When I came home yesterday, I couldn’t find Sable. I looked all over the library, then throughout the cat-room. I was certain she had not gotten outside, and almost as certain that she had not slipped into the furnace-room. That storage-space has open ceilings, and a cat who gets in there might not be found for a while, and a feral cat may be lost for a long time. But I’m confident in my precautions, and did not believe that Sabe had evaded them. Eventually, a thought struck me and I looked under my bed. There she was.

This was quite a step forward for her, though she may not have realised it. She was in the library when I left for work in the morning, which means she had to have come upstairs while it was light out, and the other cats would not all have been asleep. She may even have been near some of them. I don’t know if the proximity or behaviour of some of her fellow felines drove her under the bed, or if she was caught upstairs when I came home and it was the closest refuge she had. But previously, she had come up from the library after I had gone to bed, and before I awoke. This was a change.

However, she was then stuck under the bed for some time, not wanting to risk coming out while I was about. Nonetheless, she may have had to relieve herself by nightfall, and about 9.30, while I was actually in the bedroom, Sable emerged from the bed, hissed at Valkyrie, who was in her way, and hastened down the stairs, though she paused when I called her name.

While I consider this to have been a positive stage in Sable’s socialisation, I don’t know that I want it to happen every day, as she went without food for the whole time that she was under the bed. I am certain she would not have eaten if food had been offered, and it would have been impractical to put some under there. But the fact that she is exploring the house, possibly interacting with the other beasts, and risked coming out from her refuge with me just feet away indicates that she has moved forward in her acceptance, as gradual as it is, of her life in the Cosy Cabin.

Little Differences

Having two kittens is of course good for the kittens; they provide companionship and a playmate for each other. But it is also instructive in seeing how personalities emerge and diverge.

Watching Xandria and Valkyrie, I’ve noted some differences between them. Valkyrie is much more people-oriented, and willing to acquaint herself with any new human soon after she sees him. Her foster-sister is more reticent; she needs to become used to someone over time. Yet both enjoy the company of other cats and are willing to make the first move toward being friends. Xandria has formed a relationship with big brother Moxy, while Valk is not concerned with any one feline - though she seems to be trying to settle near Imogen, from time to time.

Xandria is much smaller than Valk, and I think this size influences her behaviour with humans, especially when approached by someone walking erect. Yet she has little fear in tackling and wrestling a bigger cat. She will often initiate a rough wrestling session, and, if breaking free of Valkyrie’s grip, will throw herself back into the fray. She gives as good as she gets in close-quarter tussling. I think she is aware of both her strengths and weaknesses.

Valkyrie is more aware of the advantages her wiry form brings than the disadvantages: she is less likely than Xan to avoid a situation where she might be caught unawares. But she is not timid about utilising her legs - now growing long and gangly - by leaping over Xandria and then landing on her, an action the relatively stubby limbs of her little sister cannot replicate.

Nonetheless, both kittens are active and energetic. Xandria likes a playmate, but will also entertain herself with toys or other distractions, more than will Valkyrie, who prefers someone to act off of.

In terms of food, Valkyrie is more vocal in demanding her meals, but eats less than Xandria when presented with them. On the other hand, Xan will still tuck into kitten-food, while Valkyrie, a whole two months older, will eat some varieties, but prefers grown-up food. Even so, when one wants to eat from the other’s dish, neither makes a fuss about it.

Such are the observations available to a foster-guardian. These will come in useful in finding the right adopter for the kittens, when their individual characteristics will be used to match them with the best families. Until then, however, I will continue to be entertained by what Xandria and Valkyrie have to show me.

Her Daily Round

Sable has established a routine. Every morning, I find her downstairs in the library. I placed her carrier - which serves as an alternate bed -  near her hiding spot - which was on the cold floor behind some boxes - and she soon chose to lie in there. The pad on its floor is softer and warmer than the library’s laminate, and the carrier itself offers some privacy and is cosy.

I put her soft-food meals in front of her carrier, and have placed hard-food and water in the library, too. She visits them and the litter-boxes there. She has so far remained in the library all day. Late at night - in fact, very early in the morning - I have seen her back in the cat-room, on a cat-tree, where she also eats some of the hard-food and often uses the litter-box.

While she still hides most of the time, this new pattern, carried on for three days so far, demonstrates that she is not afraid to walk through the house, albeit in the dark when most are asleep. It doesn’t mean that she hasn’t encountered some of her feline roommates. And my repeated evenings in the cat-room watching movies has demonstrated that my mere presence won’t encourage her to come out of wherever she was hiding. I think only time will bring her to see me; my being near by may actually discourage her.

I consider this new habit of Sabe’s, if it may be called that as yet, to be progress. With freedom of the whole house, she can decide at her own pace where she will go and what she will do. That and time may achieve big results.

How Magicians Do It

The kittens discovered the revolving shelves - or lazy Susans, as they are sometimes called - in the two corners of my kitchen. They appear to derive quite a bit of amusement from them, and one evening, decided to show me how some stage magicians perform disappearing tricks. Look and learn.

The Ghost of the Library

Yesterday’s blog-entry was incomplete. I wrote it during the day, after I had cleaned up the litter-boxes, fed the cats and gone to work. During my prolonged absence, the door to the cat-room was closed, with Sable safe inside. I came home and realised that yesterday’s story needed concluding.

I found that Sable had not touched any of the food left in the cat-room for her. She had not used the litter-box. This was worrying. But an explanation was at hand. I gently pulled on the enclosed cat-bed to make sure she was inside. She was not. She was not in the cat-room at all. That morning, I had inadvertently locked her out of her room.

I had thought - in my defence, I want to say naturally thought - that even if Sable had explored during the night, she had, by the time I rose, returned to the cat-room. She clearly had not. After an anxious quarter-hour, I found her in the library downstairs, hiding behind some boxes. She had probably been there all day, except, perhaps, for a trip back to the cat-room - only to find the door closed against her.

I suspect she had been without food all day - I don’t keep any downstairs for the beasts to eat - but, I think, had used the litter-box downstairs. The previous night she had wet in the cat-room’s box; the library boxes contained only poop, probably Sabe’s. In fact, I had wondered why that morning the other cats had used the upstairs litter-boxes extensively; they usually visit the ones in the library. The answer I know now is that they were likely unnerved by the unseen but clearly felt presence of something abnormal in the library…

Sable didn’t feel comfortable coming back upstairs during the daytime. I believed that she would return once I had gone to bed. Sure enough, I woke about 12.30 this morning and, having left the cat-room door open for her, saw her on a cat-tree in that room. In the morning, the litter-box had been used and the hard-food bowl kept in the cat-room over-night (Sable has the privilege of over-night refreshment) had been emptied: she’d gone without food most of the previous day in the library, after all.

But the story isn’t over yet.

This morning, she was gone again from the cat-room. After I had seen her at 12.30, she had evidently gone exploring and, once again, been trapped downstairs when I woke. (If I had been thinking, I would have shut the cat-room door when I spied her at 12.30.) She was hiding again, though it took me longer to find her, as she had chosen a different location. This time, I placed water and food downstairs for her to enjoy during her little exile, and left the cat-room door open, in case she wanted to return.

This adventurous side to Sable took me by surprise. I thought she might explore, but not to this extent, and for her to do the same thing twice suggests that she wanted to roam a bit, to learn about her new environment, that it wasn’t an accident the first time. On the other hand, until she becomes braver, at least with her fellow felines, she will inconvenience herself by feeling she must hide much of the time.

Nonetheless, this is a step forward for my hopefully-soon-to-be-formerly-feral, and the more she learns about her new world, the more comfortable she will be in it.