About Teeth and Foster-cats

The problem with my tooth turned out to be the crown that had been put on it. For some reason, I thought the tooth next to the one that had cracked had been the tooth that had been fitted with a crown. The crown will be repaired as soon as an appointment can be made; it is not what I would consider a major issue. In the meantime, I must be careful of the tooth, but it won’t cause too many problems before it is repaired.

Things are continuing adequately in the Cosy Apartment. A number of people expressed the desire that Brazil should stay with me permanently. The rescue-group is still hoping that the right person will adopt him; I hope for that, as well. I like Brazil and know that he is comfortable with me and his young pals. But the truth is, I cannot keep every cat who fits in. And, in fact, Brazil doesn’t fit in entirely; his effect on Imogen is bad, and that must be taken into account.

I have fostered about thirty cats. That’s a small number compared to many involved in animal-rescue, but the number would have been far smaller if I had adopted every cat whom I liked and would have wanted to keep. I would have had my maximum years ago, and Brazil, the current crop of kittens, Imogen, Percival, Hector, Auric and many others would never have made their appearances on this blog. Allowing those in my care to go on to other, better homes is what permits me to continue to help in rescue. If I weren’t involved in cat-rescue, I certainly wouldn’t have seven beasts living with me, as I fully expect most to be adopted; I consider the current population a temporary measure.

Shimmer will remain available for adoption. His life with me is not ideal; he doesn’t receive enough attention. Once the kittens are adopted, he will suffer for a playmate. Some day, I hope he will have his permanent family, who have plenty of time to give him, and a lasting feline friend. That day may never come. He may stay with me for the rest of his life; that is a necessity with some cats. I think he would be content with that. And if that comes to pass, I think I will be content with it, too.

Ah, the Tranquil Refuge of One's Home

Sometimes it’s better not to go home.

Yesterday after work, I came back to the Cosy Apartment, and was greeted by a couple of the kittens; Brazil, too, came to make sure I wasn’t bringing in a stranger; all seemed well. Then I heard an urgent mewing from somewhere. A kitten was in trouble. A kitten was trapped!

My first thought was that I had locked one in the bedroom with Imogen when I left her in there upon my departure that morning. But I suspected she wouldn’t be crying so insistently to be let out in that case. Then I saw the storeroom door was shut tight. The others had locked Chiff in the storeroom!

I suspect what had happened was that Chiff went into the storeroom to use a litter-box and two of the others, undoubtedly Theodore and Aurora, started wrestling against the outside of the door. They eventually pushed it closed. It has happened before, but not to the extent of actually latching shut. I prefer to think it was accidental than a deliberate prank… I have no idea how long she was in the storeroom, though it was not long, to judge by the amount of debris in the litter-boxes.

I released the little prisoner. She had not panicked, I suspect, but she had been everywhere in the storeroom trying to find a means of escape. She had knocked down and emptied the laundry basket (into a litter-box), pulled a bag full of bags from a shelf and scattered the contents and, of course, had thrown litter about. Not bad work, considering it was all done in the dark.

Then I opened the bedroom door to free Imogen. She had, at some point, knocked over the small rubbish bin and thrown its contents on the floor. In the library, I noted, someone (probably Brazil) had pulled the cords from the window-blinds and tossed them aside.

At least no one had thrown up. (That had been done early in the morning.)

After cleaning up the mess, washing and sweeping and vacuuming, I fed the cats and then myself. During the meal (chicken), I felt some food stuck on one of my teeth. That was an unusual but not irretrievable situation. I went to the bathroom to have a look in the mirror. No, it wasn’t food adhered to a tooth, it was a tooth that had failed to cohere to itself. Part of a tooth had split (both literally and, in terms of slang, departed.) Well.

It didn’t hurt, which surprised me, but I think that suggests -and it looks like - there is no cavity. It was just a weak tooth which decided to take off on an adventure of its own, without so much as a by-your-leave! “So long rest-of-body, I’m off to seek my fortune!” I will be going to the dentist in an hour or so, and she will try to fit me in at some point.

And, finally, I deleted a comment someone had left on yesterday’s blog entry. The ‘publish’ command is immediately above the ‘delete’ command, and a slip of the finger on a mouse produces a result the opposite of what is intended. It has happened before, and will likely happen again. If you are wondering where your comment went, Roberta, that’s where. Sorry.

And that was yesterday. I am agog at what could occur today…

Play-time for One

Making the bedroom into Imogen’s safe-space has proven successful. The other cats are permitted in, of course, except for Brazil, and this has allowed them slowly to encroach, and reduce, Imo’s antagonism toward them. But there was still a problem with play-time.

With the door open, the younger cats kept rushing in to wrestle with the string-toy I use to entice Imogen. As a result, Miss Silky was most reluctant to play, as it meant interaction with the others, with the highly probably chance of physical contact. I decided that, at least during play-time, the door to the bedroom would be closed, and Imogen could have some fun without interruption.

It has worked. Before Brazil’s advent, Imo would leap and twist and pounce when fighting the string-toy. That exuberance disappeared upon Shimmer’s arrival, and even the semi-refuge of the kitchen cabinets didn’t reproduce it. Last evening, though, Imogen jumped and rolled after the string-toy, assured by the fact that she was alone with me. (Well, Renn was on the bed, too, but, as I have mentioned, he plays but rarely, and slept - or tried to - through all of Imo’s fun. He doesn’t bother her in any case.)

This separate game-time adds still more to my schedule, but it’s worth it to see Imo put some effort into her playing again. I don’t think it impossible that she will one day play with others, but for now, this will have to do. And for now, it does well.

Ready To Go

Chiff’s surgery went without a problem. She returned wearing a cone, as the staff of the hospital believed she was licking her wound. I removed the cone and closely observed her (and I mean I lie on the floor a few inches from her and watched while she groomed herself.) It was clear that she was attempting to remove the hospital smell from her body. She concentrated on the base of her tail; I’ve seen numerous cats do that after an operation, and I wonder if the anal glands collect scent, as well as disburse it. In any case, she licked everywhere, only incidentally touching her incision. She groomed herself less and less through the evening, never putting much thought into the site of her cut.

She had a good late dinner, and then needed to get back into the swing of things. She played much of the evening: wrestling with a toy, chasing and being chased by her roommates, kicking her brother in the stomach while her brother was trying to swallow her head. The usual.

I of course tried to restrict her activities but attempting that with a five month old kitten is an impossibility. After a playful evening, and a semi-restful night, her incision still looks good. The only trouble that I’ve witnessed was Aurora’s growls at Chiff when she first returned. Those vanished during the fun of the later hours.

Thank you to all our readers for their kind thoughts about the little one. She is almost recovered already, and prepared for whatever life has to give her.

Miss Chiff and Surgery

Chiff goes for her spay surgery today. She was originally scheduled for the 27th of this month, when her brother goes for his neutering, but it was thought better to take her in a little early. We’ve been previously caught by an early heat cycle (Zofia’s), and that would mean an extra delay, as well as discomfort for Chiff and discombobulation for everyone else.

I have no doubt that everything will go well. Chiff is a healthy youngster, with no problems. She will be back in the Cosy Apartment later today, where I will try to keep her calm and inactive. Maybe Brazil will help, and take the lead in arranging plenty of this.

Re-arranging the Pieces in the Puzzle

Imogen is still having problems with Brazil, but we’ve hit upon a semi-solution. The bedroom has become Imogen’s safe-room. She rarely spends time on the kitchen cupboards or the micro-wave oven now. I started putting her in the bedroom (with the door open), and feeding her there. She quickly took to the idea of spending her time in the room. And I keep Brazil out.

As a result, Miss Silky seems much more relaxed. She is not always looking over her shoulder for Brazil. She sleeps on the bed, or on a cat-tree or even my chair, and usually eats her meals on the top of a bookcase. She looks out the window, and can have fresh air now and then, if it feels stuffy in the room.

The advantages to this are more than the obvious. All the other cats are allowed in the bedroom with the exception of Shimmer. As a result, Imogen has become more accustomed to the kittens. She will hiss at their proximity but do little else, and when they lie down near her, she doesn’t re-arrange herself to put distance between them and herself. Even Aurora is becoming a bit more acceptable. Last night, the two girls sniffed noses without so much as a growl.

The disadvantage to this situation is that Brazil is excluded from the bedroom. However, that is how it will have to be for the present. He has chased Imogen quite recently, and if he is near by, she is disturbed. But Brazil has the rest of the apartment in which to live, run and play, and he does. Furthermore, I do not physically force him out of the bedroom if he ventures in; I speak his name sternly and utter a verbal admonition. That is enough; he knows his boundaries, and he leaves. I don’t get angry with him for being where he shouldn’t. I am permitting him to stay in a little longer if I do find him there. Things won’t change otherwise. And he is more open to me, and braver with previously frightening situations (eg. noises in the corridor outside the apartment) than ever before, so I feel that the new arrangements are not affecting him badly.

During the day, when I am absent, the door to the bedroom is shut, with Imogen inside with all the necessities. Nine or ten hours away from the apartment is too long a period for Brazil’s temptation, and there may be trouble between him and Imogen ere I return. As well, though matters are improving with Auro, the latter still likes to lie in wait for Imogen and chase her. Her pursuit of Miss Silky is different than Brazil’s, and is definitely a kittenish game - but Imo doesn’t consider it thus, and so that too can lead to trouble.

For now, with seven cats, three of them kittens and four very active, this is as good a situation as can be. I fully expect things to improve, but I am patient, and won’t rush the cats, especially Imogen. The beasts have a way of letting me know when a new stage has been reached in their lives.

The Eating Event

A memory of Eric and Flynn, over at Two Devon Cats, depicted them in fervent training for a Synchronised Snoozing event of the Cat-o-lympics. It may have been that greatly missed pair who inspired the siblings in the Cosy Apartment to try Synchronised Eating.

To be honest, it’s hard to differentiate their training from the actual event. I feed Theodore and Miss Chiff in the bathroom initially, so that other cats can consume food without interruption. But their sequestration is only an excuse to keep them out of the way. Once the others are done, I release the brother and sister act; they shoot out of the bathroom straight to whichever bowl they see. By then those bowls are empty, and I have time to fill more dishes for another course. The siblings’ tastes keep changing (that’s the subject for another article, I think), but when they eat, they eat with determination.

Their big crowd-pleaser is when they switch. One will move to the other’s bowl, only for the other to take over from the one at the latter’s bowl. From above, it’s like watching an animated feline t’ai-chi-t’u.

However, they rarely finish at the same time, so one then assists the other in completing the meal. That’s when the referee intervenes and gives both of them more. This continues until they decide they are full. I am rarely so indulgent with the other cats, but Chiff and Theodore – and Aurora – are kittens, so they are allowed to eat as much as they want. Eventually all are sated.

After that, however, usually comes the playing event…