A Surfeit of Companionship

Part of the duties of a foster-guardian is to socialize the cats in his care, to accustom them to human contact and, if possible, to create in them a desire for that contact. When it works, it feels wonderful. When it works with numerous cats, it feels crowded.

I like to relax after dinner; bring a cup of tea into the sitting room, listen to music, and sit with the cats. Not all of them want to share the couch with me all the time, but, more and more often, they do.

Brazil will follow me about, voicing his desire in a soft, Renn-like cry, eventually flopping down in front of me. He won’t climb on my lap; I have to put him there, after which he relaxes, closes his eyes and enjoys the attention.

Moxy will start with kneading; lots and lots of it, telling me, among other things, that he needs his claws cut. Then he will roll onto my legs and want chest rubs.

Imogen of course feels proprietorial, and will sit facing me, kneading in her slow, shallow manner, until she curls up, half on my lap and half off, requiring a hand to keep her in place.

Then, there’s Neville, who will slowly approach, making his throaty demands for a lengthy chin-rub. He will sometimes lie on my legs, sometimes not. Sometimes, I have to reach for him, which, though laborious, allows me to tend to two cats at once.

Periodically, even Valkyrie will want lap-time - briefly, in between bouncing across the cat-trees and playing with fuzzy mice.

Though I want Indigo to leave the bedroom at least once in a while, I suppose I am lucky that she confines her cuddles and snuggles to the chair at my computer desk, and after I go to bed. She has no rival then.

That leaves only Sable. Some day, I hope to have her on my lap, too, enjoying having her furry head abrased, or perhaps even falling asleep next to me. Maybe by then, others will have been adopted and found other laps. Or mine will be wider.