A Beginning?

Parker has not had a problem with jumping up to sit on my lap - though, to be honest, he semi-sits on my lap; he likes to lean on things and people. Renn enjoys lying on the couch in the sitting room with me, he at one end and me at the other, though sometimes he too likes to lounge on my lap - he puts his whole bulk on me, however. On Saturday, with my big boy at one end, I encouraged Parker to come up and sit with me.

What happened next surprised me. After several minutes, the new fellow slipped off my lap and moved toward Renn. I thought Parker was going to walk past him and on to the armchair next the couch; he had lie there previously. But instead, Parker stopped and lie down right against Renn.

I think my big boy was surprised, too. He became rather stiff, and I was prepared for a battle. But for about ten minutes, no one moved, except for Parker settling down for a bit more comfort. Renn is not a fighter but I didn’t know what would happen if he felt cornered. After a long while, he let out one of his low warning groans. I petted both cats and talked to them, and everything remained calm - tense, on Renn’s part, too. Eventually, Parker jumped down and walked away.

Perhaps he wants to be chums with Renn. He has been following my big boy from time to time. Renn doesn’t care for it, and I thought Parker may have been trying to instigate something. Maybe what he wants to instigate is friendship.

Morning Town

There are several reasons why Saturday and Sunday mornings are my favourite of the week. Aside from not having to go to work, there is the corollary of being able to return to sleep – once I give my diabetes boys their shots. Then, I am able to wake again a couple of hours later with cats all over the bed.

Within the last couple of months, the number of beasts to whom I have woken has increased to four. Cammie had started to jump onto the bed early in the mornings months before this, but seeing one, two or three others already present, she would hiss and leap off again. Now, she stays, sometimes for twenty minutes. Then she will sniff Josie’s tail or something similar and flee, again with a hiss – even though the tail had been in the same spot ten minutes before; the princess just hadn’t sniffed it.

But the mere presence of three of her feline roommates no longer causes Cammie to abandon the bed. She will lie on my chest and purr while I pet her. It means I lose that much sleep, but I don’t mind; sleeping in is for people without cats.

(Please note the photographs below were taken while I was on my back, unable to view what I was recording; I had to hold the camera – brought to the nightstand the evening before in anticipation of this event – above my head. You can see only parts of some cats, but all of each was there…)

Sensitivity and Change

Tucker continues to be my most sensitive cat. He is the most affected by the introduction of the new resident, Parker. Life is difficult for a sensitive creature, but I try to remind him that he is, no matter what, my favourite roly poly.

During much of the time that Parker is free to roam, Tucker lies on a chair or a cat-tree, out of the way. Other times, he will lie in a cat-hammock, close to the floor, his eyes closed, snoozing. If Parker approaches, Tucker may become agitated and hiss; then again, while on a chair at the dining table, the roly poly may watch the newcomer amble by - the latter’s orange tail even brushing Tucker’s face - with no real concern.

My immediate goal is to let Tucker see Parker walk about, let him get used to the new presence, while simultaneously reinforcing Tucker’s confidence. Since he has very little of that quality to begin with, it may be an uphill battle. And yet, just the other night, Tucker decided to climb down from a high cat-tree, knowing Parker was lying just a few feet away, and waddle over to a heated cat-bed to have a snooze there. When the new fellow got up to leave, he passed by Tucker without either making a sign.

They can be contrary creatures, these cats; their behaviour first in one direction, then in another. Eventually, one direction may win out over the other, and a new attitude will be set. This may take a long time. Fortunately, I have no pressing plans.

Now That's a Toy

Once again, my cats prove that they have their own ideas as to what constitutes a toy. Though I am glad to report that my new foster-cat, Parker, enjoys wrestling with fuzzy mice, Renn is apparently a little more jaded with what is available. Despite the purpose-built toys, the improvised games and all the rest that I bring home, my big boy goes his own way on the road to fun.

This is Renn having a wonderful time with a contact-lens case…

Orange is the New Normal

First let me state that Cammie is much improved; she is eating well again and playing her favourite game, which I take for a very good sign. Now that this is the case, and even though my previous article mentioned how routines are routinely upset when one has several cats, life is settling into a pattern as much as possible, now that Parker has joined the household.

One blessing is that, though he is yet another mouth to feed - I write literally, not financially - he loves his food and there is no time spent coaxing, re-arranging, pleading, in order to have him empty a dish. As well, he is very regular in his litter-box habits, using it once, rarely twice, a day. So the physical chores that he requires have not added as much to my work-load as may have been the case.

He is growing accustomed to my method of giving him his insulin, and lies down for his injection, which I give in his sides, as I do with Tucker. I always worry that I am not getting the medicine into him, but I’m sure I am. One of the first attempts with a syringe missed the fold I’d made in Parker’s skin and spilled the insulin on his fur. If it is not going into him, then I would notice it, and I haven’t noticed it lately. And if he hadn’t been receiving his insulin in the last three weeks, I’d be visiting him in hospital, so my aim must be pretty good.

He spends my work-days in the library, and I think is grateful for the window out of which to look. He spreads himself on the shorter bookcase and views the world from there. Once I am home, he wants out. I feed everyone - including myself - first, and then, once the others are settled down for a post-prandial snooze, I release the new boy. He doesn’t sit still, having been cooped up all day, but explores, to see all that may be new since he was last out. Our apartment must be very boring to him.

Parker likes to play. He will entertain himself, which is why I like to leave the toys lying all over the floor for me to step on. I will be writing at the dining table and see the new fellow rumble across my vision, chasing something or other. I also try to play with him before bed-time, though he seems to like cuddling-time just as much. He is a very friendly cat, and will follow me about much of the time. He is social, and enjoys attention.

The other cats are still a stumbling block. They tend not to move about too much when Parker is out. They are wary. Renn and Josie seem the least trouble now; Parker will try to get close to them periodically, but I think this is curiosity more than provocation. Josie does not like it at all, and crabs in her old-lady scratchy voice, while Renn gives his low warning. But I don’t separate anyone right away; I tell each that he or she is a good cat and that no harm is meant. I try to encourage each to accept the other, rather than immediately dividing them. Cammie and Tucker have some distance to go before acceptance will be considered.

And so, while I wrote formerly that normalcy does not exist in my home, we try to come close. And right now, orange is the new normal.

In Praise of Boredom

Having five cats living with me, there is no normalcy. Unrelieved boredom would be nice, but it just doesn’t happen.

Cammie was ill again. The princess had been throwing up for several days before Saturday. When this transpires, it is sometimes of short duration. But this time, it resembled a previous occasion, which ended when I took her to the veterinary hospital and she received an injection to calm her stomach and allow her to eat. For a few days, little food had been staying in Cammie’s stomach, and I thought I would need to take her to the doctor again.

But formerly, I had forgotten that I possessed a small supply of slippery elm. Now, I resorted to this natural remedy, rather than the quicker, and synthetic, chemical. It is messier than an injection, especially as the princess not unnaturally dislikes being force-fed something that looks, feels and probably tastes as if someone had already consumed it.

Saturday, I gave Cammie a dose of the elm. Some hours later, she threw up. But she had evinced an interest in eating. This morning, I heard her wretching in the sitting room, while I was lying in bed; I could find no evidence of vomit, however. She sometimes will sound as if she is throwing up, but contain the upchuckery. This suggested that whatever had come up had not been in great volume. She received another unwelcome dose of slippery elm.

Her appetite improved today. She is hungry again. She did not join in at play-time this evening, but activity is only one of her barometers. I am concerned much more with nutrition. In that regard, she is feeling much better. I may give her a final dose of elm tomorrow, just for good measure.

What causes these periodic illnesses? I cannot guess. She is eating more Merrick ‘chicken’ these days than Fancy Feast, but the first example of this sickness followed upon a stricter Fancy Feast diet. And if the food causes the problem, it should be happening more often. I don’t think what she is eating is her trouble. There is too little information to make a firm determination. I am pleased that the problem seems to have been solved with what I had on hand here. While the princess rested in her favourite heated bed, her stomach was calmed, and her body healed.

For my cats’ sake, I long for stability, even stagnation. There is something to be said for the repetition of unlimited naps, long views out a window, play-time and regular meals. Unrelieved boredom would indeed be nice, but it just doesn’t happen. Let’s see what tomorrow will bring.

Determination

Something I have noticed about my new foster-cat, Parker, is that he has a prominent chin. This prominence is, of course, relative, since cats don’t have much in the way of chins in the first place. They have enough for chin-rubs, and that’s about all.

But, though it is not really noticeable in photographs, Parker’s chin does protrude a little bit. It may be that his lower jaw is a fraction of an inch longer than many cats’. It may be that that corner of his face is particularly boney.

I like to think that it is a sign of a determined nature, a certain pugnacity that my guest-cat has in his character. I don’t know anything of his life before he was rescued, so I can’t write for certain that he needed such fortitude. But it may be that it is there in case it’s required.

In the meantime, Parker will simply share with certain other personalities that trait which gives a manly strength to an already masculine profile.