Lightfoot

This is Moxy in the linen cupboard. Moxy is not allowed in the linen cupboard.

I don’t know why he wants in there; probably because he’s not allowed. But he doesn’t settle down and snooze in there, among the towels and sheets, as I know Valkyrie did. On the other hand, he doesn’t hook his claws into the contents of the cupboard and fling them about, pulling threads out as he does so, as Valkyrie did, so I suppose I should be satisfied with what does and doesn’t happen.

Then again, I am impressed that a cat of his bulk and density manages to jump into an upper shelf without touching anything, or knocking a pile of items over. I am especially glad that he doesn’t do this when he finds a way into the kitchen cupboards where my dishes and glasses are stored…

Making Her Acquaintance

I have always found it rather enjoyable getting to know a new cat. I like watching their behaviour, noting their routines, gauging their reactions. Sometimes, however, there are mitigating circumstances.

I have found that Rhapsody loves chin-scratches. She also likes, to an extent, chest-rubs - but not tummy-rubs. The question about the latter, however, is how much her dislike of being touched on her belly is due to her pregnancy, and how much to her natural attitude. She will change through the next few weeks - indeed, she has no doubt already changed - and I may have to re-learn something about her nature later.

But I think she is, and will remain, a happy cat. She purrs a great deal, and kneads a lot. I think she also likes company, which saddens me because I can’t spend as much time with her as possible. But she has met Moxy a couple more times and there has been no more adverse reactions on her part. Even those Moxy suffered were hardly hostile. I hope that soon she will tolerate feline company.

I believe that when her mothering is done, Rhapsody will make a wonderful companion for some human, and probably for another cat.

The Meetings Have Begun

Now that Rhapsody has been shown to be free of viruses, etc., I have begun her integration into the household. It will be a slow process, but I have started with Moxy.

The Mixer of course has been eager to meet the new cat. The first encounter was less than auspicious: I let Moxy peek around the corner of the open door to the library. Rhapsody saw him and charged across the floor, tail poofed. Moxy turned his own tail and ran up the stairs. He didn’t stop until he reached the top of the tallest cat-tree in the sitting room.

The next day, however, was a bit better. I was able to maintain control of Rho, though she was not as combative this time. The two beasts sniffed noses for about thirty seconds. I let it go on too long, though, and Rhapsody, thinking Mox was becoming fresh, slapped him.

But there has been no hissing, no growling, and the second time the pair met showed me that there is the potential for tolerance. On the weekend, I may put all the others in sealed rooms and allow the Mixer and Rho to meet with plenty of space and time. I think each instance will be an improvement on the previous.

There's Still Time to Be Young

Here’s a little movie of Rhapsody playing. I don’t know whether she will try to be as active as she grows in size, or will naturally slow down. Right now, I don’t think there is a danger to the kittens from their mother being so rambunctious, even if they do suffer a little motion sickness…

The Mother-to-be

Rhapsody is pregnant.

I had a feeling she was, based on the distended nipples on her abdomen, her fierce appetite, and the slight roundness of her midriff. A cat as young and obviously healthy as she should have been leaner there. Readers of the blog remarked on her bowed sides when they saw her photographs. Still, I was hoping there was another reason for these indications. There was not. Occam’s Razor is the theory that the simplest explanation - the one requiring the fewest assumptions - is generally correct. Occam should have grown a beard.

The veterinary believes that Rhapsody is about 26 to 28 days into her gestation period, which usually lasts about 64. The kittens are therefore due to arrive in approximately five weeks. For the time being, the plan is for the little mother-to-be to remain in the Cosy Cabin.

I am not completely devoid of experience in the birth of animal babies. I seem to recall that my family’s dog had puppies about half a century ago, so…

In other news, Rho’s ’snap’ test was negative, meaning that she is free of FIV, FeLV, and heart-worm, and can begin her integration with the other beasts in the house. Her heart and lungs are in good shape, her teeth, as well. However, due to her pregnancy, she could not be vaccinated. That is not a big deal, as it is very unlikely that my cats will pose that sort of danger to her. Neither could she be de-wormed, so I must collect a sample of her feces to pass on to the hospital.

This revelation - or, rather, the status the revelation revealed - has changed things at the Cosy Cabin, as may be imagined. There will be constant vigilance on my part, extra service of food and litter-boxes and, probably, boiling water. There is always water boiled in connection with births. I better start filling pots now…

Her Aim is True

Here is an interesting thing about Imogen I learned the semi-hard way.

She will use a hooded litter-box. She will use an unhooded litter-box. But she will use them slightly differently.

When urinating in a box with a hood, she aims high, so that the results hit perfectly on the seam between the box’s hood and body. The urine then spreads along the seam, and inside it. When I scoop, I must also wipe down the edges of the two halves, including the grooved edge of the top, which is annoying.

When urinating in a box without a hood, Imo aims low. The result is that the stream not only hits the interior of the box, but is often low enough that it hits the actual litter. I think there has been only one instance of Imogen shooting over the rim of a hoodless box. Furthermore, the amount of litter that she throws out of the box is about the same, whether hooded or otherwise. I have therefore left the boxes that Miss Silky uses most, uncovered.

Her poop is left just lying on top of the litter in all cases…

Rhapsody's Field Trip

Fostering a cat for adoption by someone else provides a wealth of information on the beast. Today, I decided to bring Rhapsody up to the bedroom, allowing her a change of scenery and the other cats to explore her smell in the library.

The little torbie was curious but also a little apprehensive, wandering about and crying the while. Then she found the window. It shows quite a bit more than those in the library, and evidently Rhapsody remembered her time outside, with its consequent freedom (never mind the freezing cold and small rations of inappropriate food, the ingrate.) She started panicking and actually pulled the screen out of the window. Thank goodness it’s winter and the window’s glass pane was shut tight.

I figured that she’d had enough excitement, especially as by then she was panting. I put her back in the carrier (I wasn’t about to carry an animal unused to being carried through a houseful of stranger-cats) and returned her to the library. Once there, she immediately regained her composure. An hour later, she had a full tummy and was lying in a cat-bed for the first time since she’d arrived.

Her next excursion will be a bit more cautious.

What About Millie?

Lynn and Precious were asking about Millie, as that little tortoiseshell had not been on the blog for a while.

Millie is doing well. She still keeps to the cat-room much of the time; she is not one for interacting with other felines. But she does come out, especially in the quiet after dinner or on a weekend afternoon, when the other beasts are slumbering. She and I are good friends; she especially likes lying beside me in the cat-room before bed-time, or when I am watching a movie on Saturday nights. I try to have a time set aside for each cat when I can give her my attention, or simply be with her and no other. Movie-night is our time together.

But Mills has shown that, if given the chance, she would likely sleep on the bed with her human. When I have a nap on a weekend, I will open the door to the cat-room, and she will hurry in to the bedroom and, jumping up on the bed, spend the nap by my head. I don’t think she sleeps during that period, as she is too worried about other cats coming near her. She needs to be an only cat for complete happiness.

On that subject, though I don’t want to jinx anything, someone has expressed an interest in Millie. She lives in my neighbourhood and would like to visit Mills. This is usually not done; the initial meeting between cat and prospective adopter is during a trial-adoption of at least two weeks. This allows the cat to be seen as she naturally is, and not frightened of a stranger suddenly thrust upon her. But not all cats take fright at such newness, and Millie will probably want to meet any human she hasn’t seen before. This is all early days yet, and we must see how things go, one step at a time.

For now, Millie is content, playful, active and healthy, ready to give what for to any cat she doesn’t like, and ready to give any person a chance.

At Play in the Library

Rhapsody is doing well. I think she is lonely in the library, as she cries sometimes, and wants out. I spend as much time with her as I can but that doesn’t amount to much, unfortunately. That’s the problem when cats are in isolation; Millie similarly suffers, because she spends almost all of her time in the cat-room, even when she has the opportunity to wander.

But I discovered that Rhapsody knows about playing. I can’t say she tackled the activity with enthusiasm, though whether that is because she hasn’t played in a long time or because she doesn’t like it, I can’t determine. Nonetheless, it is more evidence that she formerly had a home and was probably an insider-cat for at least some of it.

She continues to eat ravenously, but her litter-box visits are already settling into a routine. Though the people who had found her were feeding her, it was perhaps not appropriate food for her, and her body was probably trying to adjust to various factors. Now, she will receive regular cat-food with plenty of moisture. (I think she may have been dehydrated a bit.) Her veterinary examination is set for Monday afternoon, when we will see how healthy she is, and hopefully solve the mystery of whether or not she is spayed.

The Newcomer

I’d like to introduce Rhapsody.

This young girlcat had been hanging about on a farm just outside of town; such locations are a favourite for people to dump unwanted cats. She is very friendly, very purry, quite socialised, so she had a home at one time. She was nervous when she arrived at the Cosy Cabin, of course, but didn’t try to hide; even her anxiety dissipated quickly.

She may be moving to another foster-home after the rescue-group have her examined by the veterinary. One of our concerns is that she may be pregnant. She is a young female - whether spayed or not, we don’t know - who has been on the loose for at least a couple of months. She has been seen by people in the area during that time, and never appeared pregnant, so she may already be fixed. On the other hand, her appetite is very strong; I don’t know if I could feed her enough soft-food for her liking.

But that will all be determined soon. She otherwise looks to be in good health, is eating and drinking without hesitation - always a worry with new rescues - and has used the litter-box for both kinds of deposits. If she is in as good a condition as she looks, it may not be long before this pretty girl has a permanent home.

The Story of a Picture

I was surprised when I sat on the couch yesterday after dinner, because Indigo was the first to come over. She dropped down from the cylinder-house cat-tree and climbed up onto the couch. It took her a while to decide to lie next to me - not on my lap, but beside it - and she reclined against me purring for some time.

But Imogen figures that this is her time with me. Unlike Moxy, however, Indie does not inspire feelings of indifference in Miss Silky. Imo dislikes Indigo, and will provoke confrontations with her. Indigo, in turn, dislikes Imogen. It wasn’t long before Imo’s proximity - she clung to the arm of the couch, complaining about Indigo all the while - proved too much for her foster-sister, and Indigo moved.

She did not go far, though. She retreated to the back of the couch, while Imogen took what she believed was her rightful place on my lap. Even when I departed to begin my evening chores, the pair remained, neither willing to concede territory to the other, but neither willing to fight over it, either. This was how they stayed, for half an hour.

No Corners for Indie

As long as no one is near by - everyone else was snoozing at this time - Indigo doesn’t mind resorting to the big box for a little enclosed comfort. Even having Moxy close doesn’t worry her - he’s the Mixer, after all - but Indie just doesn’t want to feel she’s in a corner, even when the box has four of them.

The Busy Lap

I like having a lap-cat. Tungsten, my first cat, was a lap-cat, and many of the cats I’ve adopted and fostered have been lap-cats. I have two and a half now.

The prime time for lap-time is after dinner, when I sit down on the sitting room couch with a cup of tea. First, Brazil wants a turn. Shimmer will let me know while I am still preparing my beverage, coming up to me with a plaintive, very soft cry. He will follow me into the sitting room and flop down on the carpet in front of me. I pick him up and put him on my lap. He spends only about ten minutes there, but he seems to enjoy it, purring and even drooling. But then he decides the time is over and leaves.

Imogen is given the most time, simply because she stays. First, she sits facing me and kneads my stomach, very deliberately (‘slow dough’). This will last about five minutes, after which she subsides against the arm of the couch. I imagine it’s a very comfy position, and she purrs silently while I pet her. Eventually, she will decide I’m a good platform for a cleaning, and she begins to wash herself. 

Moxy, on the other hand, starts with his trademark kneading, making biscuits so insistently that the Mixer at this time become the Bread Mixer. He will do this for quite a while, digging deeply with his claws, even when they are cut. Then, he may fall over and want a chest-rubbing. He will continue to knead, but the air is less susceptible to punctures than is my skin.

When Mox is half on and half off my lap, and showing no sign of leaving, Imo will grow tired of waiting. She and the Mixer don’t mind each other, so Miss Silky will sometimes take her place even though Fat-head hasn’t abandoned his. It’s at this point that the busy lap becomes a crowded lap.

I like having a lap-cat. I like having two lap-cats. At two and a half, however, I begin thinking I need to be wider.

Fun in the Round

I have obtained different toys for the cats through the years. The simplest ones seem to be those that provide the most diversion: fuzzy mice, little balls, and the improvised ones such as boxes. I have tried track-balls at least twice in the past, and they have proved to be extemporaneous beds more than playthings. I thought nonetheless that I would attempt to interest the beasts in one again. This time - whether it is due to the cats being different than those in the past, or if the setting of the Cosy Cabin has had an influence - the trackball has proven a success with a pair of them.

Perhaps not unexpectedly, Moxy likes to play with the new toy. This is, after all, a fellow who will charge into an empty box to hear the bang as he hits its enclosed far end, or will fight the base of a cat-tree just because it’s carpetted. The fat-head can find enjoyment in almost anything.

It surprised me when Imogen also started playing with the track-ball. My attempts to record in images her fights with the ball would always induce her to stop playing. But today I caught her at it, due, perhaps, to the unusual placement of the toy. It looks like I am moving again, but it is simply the Saturday routine. Each Saturday morning, I sweep the kitchen floor, which means moving the chairs from around the dining table, gathering up the toys and boxes that normally litter the linoleum, returning them to their places later. I set the track-ball on a chair out of the way and heard the ball coursing about its groove a minute later.

It’s good to have another source of enjoyment for the beasts, even if it’s just for two of them. And, of course, a cat-home can’t have too many obstacles over which the human can stumble.