Art for the Cat-room

I hung more pictures yesterday, this time in the cat-room. Two of them are needlework (I think), reportedly done by my grandfather, many many years ago. One is of a woman sitting knitting while her cat plays with yarn. Why she has the door wide open and a fire going at the same time, I don’t know. The second is a blacksmith’s shop. The frames are massive, too big for the works, perhaps, but they have always gone with them.

Also hung are two wintry pictures, which were a gift from some time ago.

Two tiny pictures are in the corridor just outside the cat-room. These are old, like the needlework, though not produced by anyone I know. On their backs is printed the words ‘British Empire made’. These little pictures may not stay where I put them. I’m not sure it’s the best place for them.

I have large blank spot on the left-hand wall of the cat-room (as one enters). There will hang the portraits of my deceased feline friends. I want to find a sturdy, short cabinet, heavy enough for the cats not to tip over, where I will place the urns. Above them on the wall will be the portraits. I want to have the right furniture, so I am not in a hurry.

I’ll be like Imogen, and bide my time.

Deadly Cleavers

“Heartbeat racing…pupils dilated…gasping for breath…fighting for my last ounce of life…struggling…twisting…turning…trying to leap…caught in the vice of the monster…HELLLLPPP MEEEE!!”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Brazil, I’m just trimming your claws. Hold still.”

When Tummies Rest Easy

I hesitate to write about this, as mention of good health with cats who don’t always have it sometimes jinxes it. Nonetheless, I like how Neville is doing.

It may be a coincidence but since he’s started eating this gastro-intestinal food, the number of times he has thrown up has decreased greatly. It used to be an occurrence he suffered almost every day. It didn’t seem to affect him much - except the loss of food and water - but of course, whether it is vomiting or regurgitation, it is a symptom of something else, perhaps something serious. Now, he barfs once a week or less, and it is usually mostly water when it happens. (In fact, it is only most likely Nev, since I haven’t been here when it happened.)

The kernels are not easy for nearly-toothless Nev to pick up, but he does eat a decent amount - amid throwing numerous kernels about on the floor.

Between this food and the soft-food Recovery, the Nevsky is doing well in terms of nutrition. If the new hard-food is responsible for his improved internal condition, I am grateful to it, and to the fact that he likes it. And I am grateful, too, to Recovery: it has not only a higher concentration of nutrients than other foods (it is meant for convalescents) but is accurately described as a ‘mousse’, so the old grey cat can lap it up easily, which his nearly-toothless mouth cannot with even Fancy Feast paté. (Yet Tucker, who was also toothless in his later years, had no trouble with any food.)

The estimate for Neville’s birthday is late April, so he will be sixteen (we think) soon. With his years, his diabetes and his hyperthyroidism, he is actually doing well. He is shaky on his feet periodically, but he can still climb cat-trees and jump on to a couch, if he wants. I am pleased that he is doing well, and that what he eats stays eaten.

The Mixer Likes What He Finds

In contrast to poor Sable, Moxy continues to improve in his extroversion. Last evening, I picked him up and brought him into the sitting room, where I put him on my lap. I don’t think he had ever been on my lap, and I wondered what he would do. The Mixer appeared a bit puzzled at first, but then started kneading; I could feel if not hear him purring. The two pictures immediately below are blurry because it’s difficult to hold a telephone still while sharp claws are puncturing my leg.

Then he moved off my lap, turned to look out the window and jumped onto the lower cat-tree to peer outside. He went further a few minutes later, crossing over to the taller tree and settling down on the top platform for a little snooze.

This is the first time Mox has climbed onto either sitting room cat-tree of his own accord. I think it helped that the other beasts were in other rooms; the Mixer is still wary of Brazil, especially, and remains a naturally timid cat. But this is quite a step forward for the heavy fellow, and demonstrates that he wants to live in as much of the Cosy Cabin as possible. It is, after all, his home.

Into the Night

Sable seems to be splitting her time now between the library and the bedroom. She is often under the bed when I retire for the night. That’s when she comes out, to spend the dark hours elsewhere, part of the time in the cat-room, which is where I often see her if I wake in the night.

When Sabe emerges from under the bed, she shoots out with a noise like wind rushing through a tunnel. A friend suggested that it’s because when exiting her hiding spot outside, she would have been at her most vulnerable, and thinks she must get out quickly. That seems plausible. I know, though, that in the twilight region between waking and sleeping, when I hear the burst of air sweeping from under the bed, followed by nocturnal chirping, I know a new creature is loose in the Cosy Cabin.

I can then fall asleep.

Pictures At My Exhibition

It’s going on three months, but I at last put up the pictures in the sitting room. The trouble is that hanging pictures isn’t a quick operation, so it requires the time available only on weekends. My weekends are really the only part of the week that offers me substantial blocks of free time, so everything that requires them has to be done then.

And, frankly, hanging pictures is a laborious activity, so I didn’t want to do it. Finding the stud in the wall, marking the spot, positioning the picture, trying to decide if it is high enough, too high, level, level with other pictures, putting the nail and hook in, then realising it’s in the wrong place and repeating the process: this is tedious work.

The results of hanging pictures are usually pleasing, however, and I think yesterday’s work turned out well. Some aren't quite where I wanted them, but they had to be placed where the wall would support them. The room seems suddenly more crowded to me, but I will grow accustomed to it. It looks a bit more homey. I hope to rouse myself to put up pictures in the other rooms on the following weekends. With the increased space I have available, I may not have enough pictures. But that’s a problem for future weekends…

The Unlikely Playmates

I think I may have remarked recently that Imogen has been more active than ever before, since we’ve moved to the Cosy Cabin, and more tolerant of the other beasts. I may have even mentioned that she had taken that tolerance a step further, and has begun playing with Valkyrie. Here they are in action.

Imo loves her bathmat - the one that I had to buy for myself you can see on the rim of the tub - as it doubles as both a bed and a toy. She will push it about and burrow under it. When she does the latter, Valkyrie sometimes hurries in to play, too. Their interaction at such times consists largely of an exchange of harmless whapping, yet they both seem to enjoy it; Valk will often change position to try an attack from a different angle.

Other times, the two chase each other. Miss Silky will periodically not want to play, or grow bored with it, and then hiss or growl at the youngster. But for the most part, there is silence, except for the thumping of cat-feet; claws are in, ears are up and, unlike when Valkyrie and Brazil pursue each other at a gallop, Imo’s part brings the pace down to a more dignified trot.

Nonetheless, when any of these actions occur, it’s a joy for me to see. And it appears to be fun for the cats, as well.

Double Vision

Two cats, two views: that’s Brazil on the left and Imogen on the right, taking advantage of the Cosy Cabin’s multiple aspects. Imo hasn’t gone into the cat-room often, but is exploring it more. What Shimmer can observe from his limited range at that window, I don’t know, but they both spent a long time taking in what they saw.

Desirable Residence Needs Tenants

When I moved into the Cosy Cabin, I discovered this little trailer suspended from a tree’s branch in the back garden. It’s a bird-house. It was empty when I moved in, and may, in fact, never have been used. I hope to see it utilised in the spring, but do not know if it is amenable for birds (it is of course unsupported and might even be dangerous to eggs and hatchlings on a windy day), and may not be what a young bird-couple would want. It looks rather aged; it perhaps has been hanging there since the model of trailer it represents was new. But I will see what happens, perhaps after some research into how to make it more attractive to avian tenants. To start with, they won’t beat the rent, and there’s no damage deposit required.

Elbows Off the Table...

I love seeing a cat sit like this. It looks like a little child, eagerly watching the outdoors. In the case of a kitten, it’s close to the truth, though Valkyrie is probably only half a minute away from some kind of mischief…

The Sun in the Cosy Cabin

Moxy found a sun-puddle last Saturday afternoon. Right now, when it’s not cloudy, the sun shines in the side-windows of the house, though it can do that only about mid-day when it clears the height of the neighbouring houses. As the year advances, I expect the sun to move toward the front and rear of the house during the day’s different hours. It will be interesting to see how much sun we receive in the Cosy Cabin during the spring and summer. I suspect it may draw cats to the sitting room in the mornings.

Right now, though, Moxy and his roommates will have to settle for the odd splash of sunlight wherever they can find it.

It Could have Been Worse

Undoubtedly Valkyrie. Either she pulled the books out while lying on the shelf above, or squeezed behind them and pushed them out. The trajectory was perfect for the food-bowl. I think Boswell’s London Journal did most of the damage.

It could have been worse; the water-bowl was only a foot and a half away.

What Do You See?

There is something satisfying to me seeing a cat looking out a window at something, or at nothing. It suggests an interest in things, though, I suppose, it might also be simple ennui. But much of the time, when I see the beasts peering out a window, they are observing things, people walking by, leaves blown by the wind, a dog in a window across the street. I think it means involvement, engagement in one’s surroundings. It’s why I try to encourage my cats to look and see. Brazil and Valkyrie, shown here, are the most observant of my gang, while Indigo is the least. Sable, of course, is in a class of her own, still having much to learn about the inside, never mind seeing what’s outside.

Eventually, I hope, I will see all of them at different times at the windows, looking, seeing and enjoying.

My Friend, Imogen

Good pictures of black cats are difficult to obtain, I find; the definition just doesn’t show. But this one was taken by a friend of mine late last year. It’s one of Imogen’s best likenesses. She is about five years old now, and doing very well. I think the Cosy Cabin is a good influence on Miss Silky; she is active, yet has taken to lying on my lap now and then, when I relax in the sitting room after dinner.

Though I am fortunate that all of the cats currently living here extend to me their friendship and trust - except for Sable - Imogen is the closest to me. We understand and appreciate each other.

Xandria at Home

Xandria is settled in her new home. She has two humans to fuss over her and a big feline brother named Jack. At first, she was wary of Jack, of course, especially as he can be a bit intense; notice the stare in one photograph. Now, they are wrestling and playing together, and Jack periodically grooms Xan (who has a new name), whether she thinks she needs cleaning or not. Their relationship sounds at this time rather like the one the kitten had with Moxy. Readers can see the progression of her new relationship in the pictures.

This was a good move for the little one. From abandonment on the edge of a highway to a loving home with a couple of attentive humans and a protective sibling: Xandria is a lucky cat.

The Small Back Room

Neville sometimes goes down to the library to rest. I am not sure what the attraction is for him. He has never been a big reader. It can be cool down there, especially, I would imagine, for an oldster like him. But he has a comfy couch and - I think this may be the main draw - the other cats don’t spend much time in the library. But I worry that it is too cold for him, and at meal-times, if he is still in the library, I have to bring his food all that way.

Now, I have noticed that the Nevsky is spending time in the cat-room. He climbs to the top of the tree under one of the windows. I don’t think he takes advantage of the view, despite the fact that it overlooks the back garden. He snoozes there from time to time, and feeding him in that location has the advantage not only of proximity, but of observation: I can see him straight down the corridor and know when he has eaten what’s in his dish, whether he wants more, or whether he is sated.

Why he has started inhabiting the cat-room, I don’t know. It is another of those sudden changes that cats, so much the creatures of routine, nevertheless periodically undertake. I am not using the cat-room for a new cat at the moment, and if Sable, during her visits to the room, finds another feline there, it won’t do her harm to be introduced to her oldest roommate.

Nev has found another comfortable corner of the Cosy Cabin to inhabit, and I think it is a nice change.

Measuring My Help

Every time I bring out the yard-stick, Valkyrie knows that I’ll be pulling fuzzy mice out from under the oven. She gives a little cry and hurries over to watch, ie. crouch low and get in my way so I can’t see what I’m doing.

What I’m doing, I know. Why I’m doing it, I don’t, since the fuzzy mice will end up back under the oven within minutes.

Heard But Not Seen

Sable still spends most of her time under the bed. She comes out at night, and lies on a cat-tree in the cat-room. Sometimes she hurries out during the day, uses a litter-box in the cat-room or downstairs, then rushes back under the bed. Periodically though, she stays out and wanders about; now and then, I’ve startled her - and vice versa - when she’s been on top of the refrigerator, jumping down suddenly when I appear.

On the weekend, I was at the computer in the bedroom. Sabe slipped out of the room for some fresher air, and I heard her make what seems to be her characteristic gulping wail sound. I thought at first she was in the library, but she was, in fact, in the kitchen, and I missed the chance of recording her movements. Her sounds come at the beginning of this short video. Aside from an odd hiss if a cat comes too close to her, this is the only kind of noises she has so far made.

Corners To Be Turned

Moxy has been wary of Brazil since Brazil went after him a couple of times. ‘Attack’ is too strong a word; cat-people will know what I mean: Shimmer was likely just trying to boss the Mixer around, to show who’s boss, as he has tried - and still does periodically - with Imogen.

I haven’t seen Brazil do this with Moxy for some time, perhaps a couple of weeks. Instead, Brazil appears to be trying to befriend the big, hefty boy. He repeatedly sniffs Mox’s nose, though Moxy probably suspects a trap and retreats half the time. But today, I found the two of them on the bed together.

Furthermore, Valkyrie later joined them, and Shimmer groomed the kitten for several minutes, while lying next to Moxy. The latter seemed ready to give Shimmer the benefit of the doubt. I of course have no idea what happens when I am at work, but if this weekend is an indication, a corner may have been turned.

Then again, knowing cats, maybe I should be on guard as much as Moxy…