THE HERD (or my life with 15 Kats)

Who Needs Fancy Cat Toys?

November 14th, 2009

When we started rescuing our cats as kittens, we invested in a lot of cat playthings to keep our growing brood occupied and exercised. The cat tree and scratching mats were not only for exercise, but served a vital purpose in keeping our furniture in one piece, a partial solution at best. Different cats liked different toys. The dangling doorknob hanger was virtually ignored by the first group of insurgent kittens, but totally trashed by the second group the next year. Little balls were of varied interest, except for those made of a soft spongy material. These seemed to be of particular interest as they got stuck on the claws. Shotzi would sit and wave her paw frantically until the ball dislodged, then tear after it. The first rescue group loved to chase the red laser light in the darkened stair or hallway. After the second wave started to arrive, it became just too crowded to play this way safely. Besides jumping over and running into each other constantly, it was harder to be sure I was not going to catch someone’s eyes with the beam. So in the interest of safety, this toy has been abandoned.

Probably the most successful purchased toys have been the ordinary “mouse”. We have had mice of all shapes, sizes, colors, and materials. Furry mice in typical shades of white, gray, black, and brown, were replaced with green, orange, purple and red mice. Some rattled, some did not. Waldo particularly favored the orange, rattling mouse. Sunny’s favorite was also orange, but the body was covered with orange sisal cord. We had plush mice with longer fur, and some with very little fur at all. The mice were even popular after they fell apart. Waldo’s orange mouse lost its covering at one point, and they played with the covering. When the toy box started to get empty, I would go around and sweep under all the furniture with a yardstick and collect the mice pulled out. The largest harvest I ever made was 38 toys, mostly mice.

But we’ve discovered that our cats can be easily entertained by our trash. Small waste cans, beware! All they need is a piece of crinkly paper, say from a candy wrapper, and they are quite happy. The Crystal Light plastic tubs are also highly favored. I had to abandon my bathroom “Dixie” cups. They kept disappearing from the sink to reappear elsewhere in the house. I finally identified Waldo as the thief. Whenever I use aluminum foil in the kitchen, a clean piece is balled up and tossed to the cats.

The best “non-toy” toy is kibble (dry food). Several of our cats do not eat kibble out of the bowl. They use their paws to pull the bits out onto the floor, and then eat it. There is always dry kibble outside the bowl. This gives rise to heated games of kibble-hockey. Two or three cats will engage each other, passing the flying chunk of kibble to each other, stealing it from another, and bouncing it off the baseboards, frantically trying to keep up with it on the smooth kitchen floor. Many time, the water dish was violently emptied as one of the cats flew through the area. This prompted us to put the lighter stainless steel bowl into a heavy ceramic soufflé dish. Haven’t had to clean up too many hockey spills since then. The best advantage of playing kibble-hockey, is that in the end, they can eat the puck. Unfortunately, much is not eaten, and we have to frequently sweep the kitchen floor, or else we cannot walk on it.

So, while purchased toys certainly have their place, we have found our cats can be self-entertained, with supervision. You do not want to let them have anything out of the trash, but many things can keep them entertained for some time, and be picked up later for disposal. It works for us.

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Why I Can’t Get Anything Done!

October 29th, 2009

The summer we began our adventure in herding, I was also set to undergo carpal tunnel surgery on both of my hands. I chose this time frame because my choirs go on vacation over the summer, and my church responsibilities become less for awhile. But that summer, between surgery & recovery, kitty catching & domesticating, and vet visits, by the end of 2007, I felt that I had fallen way behind on my stack of magazines and other commitments. I worked as much as possible to make a dent in the pile of recipes I wanted to process, but made limited progress. I still had all my choir/church responsibilities to take care of, and had just started taking piano lessons that fall. Then it happened again the following summer, no not surgery, just the cat thing! By the time all the vet trips were completed, summer was over, and choirs were resuming. For awhile, I was actually struggling to keep up. I dared to wonder how my life had become so complicated. Then one look at the sea of upturned furry faces, and I knew.

play 4-29-09 dinnertime 1-08

I guess I never really thought about how long it takes to keep after kitties. Of course, I never personally had more than two cats myself, and we had a maximum of 4 (older cats) when we moved into the house. A few minutes to feed, pet, and clean litter boxes. After all, cats are pretty self contained pets. You don’t have to walk them several times a day like a dog, and if there are two of them, they can entertain each other right??? Don’t you believe it!

Especially when they were young, we had to not only feed them, and scoop litter boxes, but there was the socialization necessary to turn these wild kittens into loving, social creatures that will not bite and scratch every time you try to pet them. That required time to sit by the cage and talk softly so the terrified kitten can grow accustomed to human voices. Then carefully reach in to let that quivering nose take a tentative sniff of an outstretched hand. Eventually, to be allowed that careful pet, or even a head scratch, is a wonderful reward for patience I thought I did not have. We found that playing with the kittens by waving a kitty-play wand outside the cage was a good way to engage the kitten’s attention. Finally, that first time when the kitten trusts you enough to hold it, carefully, outside the cage, is just too wonderful for words. All this took a lot of time and effort. I guess after two summers, it was worth it, as of the 15 cats we rescued, only two are not fully socialized to humans. Both were the last kitten rescued in the summer, when we were already partitioning out less individual time per kitten, and after my fall responsibilities kicked in again. Even these two have their moments! I still hope that over time, we may make some progress.

Snickerdoodle seems almost comfortable to be in the same room with me. But he doesn’t like to be picked up and will draw back and hiss if he feels threatened. He really is a big baby, who runs and hides whenever the vacuum runs or doorbell rings. When he does have to visit the veterinarian, after a heart pumping chase around the house, I can usually manage to throw a towel over him and heft his 15+ pounds into a carrier. Invariably, he either pees or poops in the carrier. I usually don’t have to worry about collecting a stool sample for him!

snickerdoodle 11-22-08

Belle is very skittish, and will typically hide whenever we are around. At best, she stays under the chairs, or in one of the enclosed cat beds, where she thinks we cannot see her. The only time I get some interaction with her, is at meal times. She follows me to her special plate, and actually allows me to give her a couple of strokes as she chows down.

belle 6-2-09

Since we were able to have our feral females spayed in the Spring of 2009, we made it through an entire mating season with no new additions to our herd. And since all the cats have been as domesticated as we can get them, you would think I should have more time available for other activities. And this is somewhat true. I have been able to catch up on many of the cooking magazines that I subscribe to, but there is a huge stack of special issue publications I picked up along the way. I try to get work done, even this blog is done in sections, because the cats all must have their time. Sometimes, I swear they take numbers, because my desk is like a revolving door. One leaves, another takes its place. Now, I know why I get nothing done.

crowded desk 5-30-09

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When It Gets Cold, Pull Up Another Cat

October 17th, 2009

You can tell when the weather starts to get cooler, the bed gets more crowded. All summer long, I may have had a maximum of 2 extra guests sharing the sheets. With the recent, very early, cold snap in the middle Atlantic states, I find that when I wake up, I can barely move! The most recent head counts have been 6 to 8 extra guests. This makes for some interesting sleep patterns.

Usually, I can fall asleep before most of the cats decide it’s time to turn in. It’s when I wake up, and have to GET UP, that I run into difficulty. The blankets are typically pinned on either side of me by at least one cat, and the entire bottom 1/4 to 1/3 of the bed is covered by an overlapping layer of fur. I turn on the light, and several heads with blinking eyes are raised questioningly. For years, my cats have slept with me. Until her death, Paggie curled up at the bottom of the bed every night. Most of the cats who were older when rescued, prefer to sleep at the bottom also. Sometimes they will lean up against my legs, but for the most part they stay at the bottom. Our three bottle-babies (Shotzi, Hermione, and Cupcake) are very different. They love to stretch out along side and cuddle as close as possible. That is why I like to have the light on to just get out of bed. I don’t want to take a chance of rolling onto one of them. Plus, it sometimes helps to clear the bottom of the bed so I can finally stretch out my legs.

On those unfortunate nights when I am having problems dropping off, or staying asleep, it really becomes annoying, and I have to try and clear the bed off so I can find a more comfortable position, stretch my legs, etc. I just went through this a few nights ago. As I was beginning to drop off again, I could feel the cats carefully sneaking back into the bed, and had to smile at their persistence. Oh well, at least it’s warm at the bottom of the kitty pile!

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Cats Do Not Have to Floss!

September 17th, 2009

Most vets will encourage cat parents to brush their kitty’s teeth for the same reason you brush your teeth daily. The instructions do not include flossing for cats. While I would never even attempt to use dental floss due to the cat fascination for all things that dangle, Sunny found a piece and decided to try it on his own.

Late in the evening of Tuesday September 8^th, while I was quietly passing the evening on the computer, I heard my sister calling to Sunny, and then she came up the hall following him. This activity repeated a few times, before I finally asked what the problem was. She said Sunny had found a piece of dental floss, and had it in his mouth. She was trying to take it from him, and he kept running away from her. Now, it is important to understand that strings of all sorts (yarn, twine, dental floss, etc.) can cause serious injury if it lodges in a cat’s intestinal tract. So it was very important that we get the floss away from him. Unfortunately, Sunny had other ideas. As he ran from me, he would pause in a “safe” place and I could see his little jaws moving as the length of dental floss hanging from his mouth got shorter, like a limp piece of spaghetti. I wish it had been spaghetti. After 3 or 4 pauses, the dental floss was completely ingested. At that point, we began the waiting and watching game.

From everything I could read on the subject, if a blockage occurred, Sunny would likely vomit, have diarrhea, stop eating, and become lethargic. We watched him for three full days. The only unusual behavior appeared Thursday evening. I noticed he entered a litter box half-way, and just stood there, looking around in the box. Then he seemed to lunge a little, like he was batting after something in the litter box, before backing out. Then he went to another box and repeated the performance. Could this just be playing? Or could he be having problems making a bowel movement? I’d been watching the “deposits” as I scooped the litter boxes each evening. But with 15 cats and 4 litter boxes, that’s a lot of poop to examine. I had not yet found the floss. Sunny was not displaying any of the expected symptoms. He was playing with the other cats, and when he would come up for a pet, I probed his abdomen to check for abnormalities. He did not seem to be in any discomfort. In fact, he would begin to purr when I probed him.

Finally, Saturday, I called my vet’s office to see if they thought I should bring him in. They told me that he had probably already passed the dental floss, and would likely be ok, but I should continue to watch him. I tend to agree. After a week, he is still doing fine. He plays and eats, and loves. We are still watching him, but hopefully his little episode with dental floss will be just a memory and an entry in my blog.

There is a teachable moment here, however. While we have become accustomed to seeing pictures of cute kittens and cats playing and sleeping with balls of yarn or string, and many cat toys come with dangling objects suspended with fine elastic cords, responsible cat parents need to understand that strings of all sorts are incredibly dangerous to your cat. The can cause serious medical problems, costing parents a lot of money for medical costs and likely surgery. If left unattended, your cat may even die in a very painful way. So please, use toys with strings and elastic cords only with supervision. Be sure to keep dental floss in the medicine chest or drawer, and always dispose of used floss in a closed container where your kitty kids cannot get to it. We have learned our lesson! Cats don’t need to floss!

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Feeding the Five-Thousand

August 15th, 2009

Five-thousand or fifteen? It doesn’t really matter. Either way it gets a bit crowded at meal times.

We have always chosen to feed our cats both wet and dry cat food. Formal mealtimes are 6:00 AM and 6:00 PM. Times are approximate, but there are usually several furry reminders if I get behind schedule or try to sleep in. On weekends or vacations, I usually go back to bed after putting the plates down. But if I really want to sleep, I need to close the door, as play time immediately follows meal times.

By the end of the first season of collecting, we were feeding seven cats on two plates from two 5.5 ounce cans of Friskies cat food. After adding the next group, we expanded the protocol to four plates and three cans. When the economy tanked, Barb’s hours were cut, so we had to rethink much of how we live. Although we did not speak of it, I had some real concern that we would not be able to keep all of our little ones. Fortunately, by making some other concessions, we were able to keep the family together. It broke my heart to hear the stories of pets being turned into the SPCA or just left behind when their owners were forced to leave their homes. I did not want to put our gang through that pain. We did, however, cut back to two cans of cat food per meal again. It doesn’t sound like much, but it gives everyone a taste. As the last kittens grew larger, we expanded to six plates spread out over the kitchen and dining room, so that everyone could have a taste, if they wanted.

You could call our cats spoiled, and you are probably correct. I’ve found that most of them prefer “chunky” cat foods, not your classic ground styles. Since dry cat food is available almost all the time, I’m not concerned if some turn up their noses at the canned food choice. I know it will be eaten by at least one of them. But I do try to buy flavors they will all enjoy.

The biggest challenge at mealtimes is just moving around in the kitchen. I’ve learned to “slide” my feet, rather than step. It also helps to be shoeless, as you can feel the tails or paws before you step on them. Hermione loves to lie at the base of the kitchen cabinets, just where you are working. To avoid her, I have to shove her aside with my foot, as she doesn’t seem to understand the word “MOVE”. The crowd is a bit sparse in the beginning. They seem to know that I feed the strays outside first, and keep out of my way. Once that is accomplished, they begin to swarm. My old cats used to come running every time the can opener ran, thinking it was meal time. With the advent of “pop-top” cans, I rarely use the can opener for cat food (just tuna for some reason). The sound that gets their attention is the spoon on the plate. I always spread out the food so everyone can get to it, and that clinking sound is like a dinner bell. I don’t even have to call “kitty-kitty-kitty” anymore, although I do. I just pick up the plates, one in each hand, and say “Is everyone hungry?” That gets an immediate vocal response from half of them. Some stand up on their back legs to smell, others just mill about. Once the first plate hits the floor, it’s chow time.

View into the Kitchen

: View of Dining Room

As I said earlier, we keep dry cat food (Meow Mix) available most of the time. Several of the cats, including Waldo, Sunny and Pepper-Ann prefer to eat their kibble outside of the bowl. So they will stick a paw into the bowl and pop out several pieces to enjoy. I recall one time, I opened the bag of cat food, and it kind of “exploded”, making a mess of the floor. Immediately, a line of cats began devouring it, like little furry vacuum cleaners, they just moved along the spill until it was almost completely erased. It was so humorous, I’ve never forgotten it. I just wish they were all so neat. Sometimes they don’t eat the kibble, but decide to play hockey with it. We had to find heavy ceramic dishes, because the cats would play hockey or chase one another through the open kitchen, dining, and living rooms, and spill everything. We got tired of mopping the spilled water off floor. We still have to sweep the kitchen every day, and vacuum twice a week to keep the crumbs, litter and fur under control.

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Enie, Menie, Miney, and Mo

August 10th, 2009

Most of my neighbors know that we have been feeding and collecting the stray kittens. The herd can be seen peering out of our windows, watching the birds and other wild life. While I know there are some cats as house pets in the neighborhood, dogs seem to be the pet-of-choice around here.

One Sunday afternoon in mid-September 2008, my neighbor’s daughter called me over to their yard next door. They had found four kittens under the wood pile at the back of the yard. Earlier in the summer, I had remarked to Barb that I thought Gabby, one of our strays, was pregnant. Then one morning, she was suddenly thinner, so I assumed she had given birth. These were probably her babies, especially since two of them were colored exactly like her.

The children were carrying the kittens around, wrapped in towels or doll blankets. The kittens appeared to be 2-3 weeks old, as their eyes were open. I got a box and collected the babies, wondering what I was going to do with them. My neighbor did not appear to want them put back into the nest under his wood pile, and I was concerned that if I did, he might destroy them or the kids would continue to disturb them. So we sat the box of kittens on our deck where their mother came up to eat, hoping she would feed them and then move them to a safer location. Meanwhile, I did some Internet research on hand raising kittens. Of course, it was Sunday, so I made a quick run to one of the local pet stores for supplies, just making it before they closed for the evening. When I got home, Barb reported that Gabby had completely ignored the kittens, so we decided we would try to hand raise them.

I carried the box into the basement, and transferred the kittens into a bigger, taller box so they could not escape. I filled the nursing bottle I bought at the pet store with KMR (Kitten Replacement Milk), and took a deep breath. The kittens were very hungry and quickly took to the bottle. Mommy duties did not end there, we also had to massage their little butts, just like their natural mother’s tongue, to stimulate them to pee and poop. At their age, their digestive systems were not fully developed and the mother’s tongue is needed to keep them clean and functional.

The toughest part of the routine was the feeding schedule needed. We were very fortunate that Barb was just beginning a week of vacation the next day, so she could handle the feedings every 4-6 hours that were needed during the day. I took care of feeding them before I left for work (about 5:00a.m.), when I got home from work, and throughout the evening. I also scheduled a visit to the vet for a checkup. There, we determined the four little girls were probably about 3 weeks old, and appeared to be in good health, for the moment. I also found a staff member who had raised many kittens by hand, and provided some valuable advice and guidance. We decided to call them Enie, Menie, Miney and Mo, since we were not going to keep these. When old enough, they were going to go to good homes, but not ours.

Every time the basement door opened, the kittens in the box would start to cry, the runt of the litter was the loudest. We called the two dark tabbies (like their mother), Enie and Menie. The silver tabby was Miney, and the solid dark gray kitten was Mo. After the first week, we were able to stretch out the feedings to better accommodate our work schedules.

After every bottle, we had to not only wipe kitty butts, but also their faces and bodies with a warm, damp washcloth. This action simulated their mother’s tongues. Each kitten was then held and cuddled. They were so very affectionate, and loved to climb up to our chins. Once they seemed strong enough, we started exercising them a bit in the stairway, where they would stretch and climb the stairs, eventually ending in a sleepy kitty pile. All the time this was happening, we were also trying to domesticate Sable and Belle in the big cage. It was enough to make me crazy.

About this time, I noticed that Miney seemed to have an eye infection, so I called the vet and got her in right away. She was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection, and I was given oral antibiotics as well as an antibiotic cream for her eyes. She was started on it right away. I had enough for all the kittens, but I did not think the others were affected. Then one morning, Mo stopped taking the bottle, so I gave her a dose of the antibiotic. Unfortunately, it was a case of too little, too late. When I got home, I found Mo has died in the box. We were upset, and I blamed myself for her loss. Immediately, the other kittens were started on the antibiotics, and they all managed to survive the incident.

If I thought they got dirty after drinking milk from a bottle, I was appalled with the mess they made when we introduced them to solid food. We started by mixing ground cat food with warm water to make a gruel. First they walked through it, not realizing they were supposed to eat it. Then it seemed like they must have rolled in it! What a mess. Wet washcloths did not do the same quality job mommy’s tongue did. We also used dry kitten food, soaked in water and mashed to a paste. Eventually they figured out it was food to eat. We still supplemented with the KMR in a bottle, but once we saw they were eating on their own, we began weaning them from the bottle. To keep them clean and free of skin irritations, we bathed them in the kitchen sink with Cat & Kitten shampoo twice a week until they learned to bathe themselves.

As the kittens grew and learned, Pagos, my 24-year old cat was on the decline. She began to sneeze and display the same symptoms she had a year and a half earlier. At that time, we had determined she was suffering from a serious infection due to several bad teeth. The infection had actually eaten its way into her sinus cavities. Following the extraction of three teeth and cleaning of the others, she had returned to good health. Now, the blood work conducted indicated she was suffering not only from an infection, but also kidney failure. I may have been able to nurse her along by giving her sub-cutaneous injections of water to keep her hydrated, but I decided that it would not have been a good solution for Pagos. I’m sure it would have caused her much more distress, than relief. So I decided not to let her suffer, and we said a painful good-bye after 24 wonderful years of sharing our lives.

By the time the kittens were given a clean bill of health and could be introduced to the rest of the herd, we had become so attached, that we could not part with them. All of our other cats were rescued after they had been fully weaned, and most could not be called “lap cats”. These three kittens most definitely are lap cats. They spent their first week in the “big house” sleeping on my sister whenever possible. Eventually, they found their way around, and now sleep elsewhere. But they still like to be held and cuddled.

Enie was renamed Shotzi, Menie was renamed Cupcake. Click on their names to open their Picture Galleries. Miney was the only kitten to retain some semblance of that first name. We decided to call her Hermione, but most of the time, we still call her Miney. The kittens have really been a joy to have around. Cupcake was the runt of the litter, but she has quickly caught up, and perhaps surpassed her sisters. She loves to talk, and is our certified bug hunter. Cupcake can find and kill any bug you can or cannot see. Shotzi, along with Cupcake sleep with me almost every night. Shotzi loves to play with little foam balls. She quite happily plays by herself in the stairs, all the while talking to her toys. It is adorable behavior, until it happens at 2:00 in the morning. Hermione is our counter kitty. Most of the cats ignore the kitchen counters, or we haven’t had many problems keeping them down. Hermione, on the other hand, comes up to get attention. I keep setting her down, and she keeps getting back up. I’m beginning to think it’s a lost cause.

Well, that’s the herd as it stands today. Two humans and 15 cats. I’m not sure who’s actually in charge, but we manage to rub along together pretty well.

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And Two makes….

August 5th, 2009

The summer continued to wane, yet two kittens remained at risk in the big, wide world. The black kitten continued to be elusive, coming up at random times to eat and play. The light brown tabby often came along and they would chase each other around the pots and table legs. September passed by in a blur of resuming choir rehearsals, and other fall activities. I set up the trap cage as often as possible, and finally in late September, the sleek, black kitten slipped into the cage to grab a snack, and I was finally able to bring in my “black beauty”. I was very glad to have caught this one. On one of my stops at the local SPCA, I saw they had notices up that adoptions of black cats would not be finalized until a week or so after October 31^st. (Halloween) At least the little black kitten had been saved from any horrific treatment in the name of Halloween.

About a week later, I had a day off of work, and tried once again to trap the light brown tabby kitten. I was beginning to worry that we would never catch this one, as it was growing quickly. I knew the older the kittens were, the harder they would be to socialize. Finally, the kitten decided to take the plunge and entered my cage. Quickly I pulled the door closed, breathed a sigh of relief, and brought the last of Abby’s kittens inside. For most of our kitten collections, both my sister and I were available to escort the kitten downstairs to the big cage. For this one, I was home alone, Barb was at work but due home in about 2 hours. The little voice in my head told me to just let the kitten sit in the trap cage until she was home to help me make the transfer. Unfortunately, the louder voice in my head told me I could do it myself. Maybe it was because this kitten was older and more feral than the others, but I should have listened to the “little” voice. I had difficulty balancing the little cage close enough so the kitten could cross over by itself. So I decided to do a quick grab and transfer (remember Waldo?). Same idea, same result. The light brown tabby squirmed, scratched, and bit, managing to slip out of my grasp and make a dash for freedom. At least I had remembered to close the door, and the kitten could only hide. Of course, it had managed to discover what may have been the most inaccessible corner of the basement, behind the washer and dryer. Rather than try to re-trap the kitten on my own, I decided to block off the area and wait for reinforcements to arrive.

About 40 minutes later, Barb arrived and I told her “I have good news and bad news. Good news is that I caught the last kitten. Bad news is that it’s behind the dryer.” Took me awhile to live that one down. I set up the little cage at the front of the dryer and we made noises at the far end in the hopes the kitten would become scared and run blindly into the cage. But no luck. So I tried using a broom to shoo the kitten out. I hated to do that, as I was afraid it would really traumatize the little one, but I really had no choice. I ended up really “sweeping” the kitten forward into the trap cage, where Barb closed the door. We left the kitten in the cage to calm down a bit, then with Barb’s help we were able to hold the trap cage up to the big cage so the light brown tabby kitten could join the black one in the big cage.

Both kittens were quite skittish, and took great exception when we attempted to touch them. We decided to name the black kitten “Sabel”. I thought he was pure black, but he does have an occasional white hair or so that pops up in his coat. But you have to look really close. His eyes are green, as are most of Abby’s kitten’s. I was hoping they would change to orange or yellow, but no such luck. I had been calling the light brown tabby “Clarabelle”, and she was a little girl. But Barb said she saw a cow in her head every time I said the name, so we settled on just plain “Belle” for this kitten’s name.

Working with almost feral cats is challenging. Just getting them out of the cage into carriers for the first vet visit required some advance planning. We tried leaving them out to exercise in the stairway, as we had the others, but moving them about was such a challenge, that we eventually just left them out. It took Sabel a little bit, but he has actually adapted to living with humans quite nicely. He doesn’t like to be picked up or handled, but he most certainly does like to have his head scratched. Shortly before bedtime, he usually comes up on my computer desk and either sits there or flops down for his nightly rub-down. He has the biggest purr you can imagine, and is the biggest mooch in the whole herd. If he has the slightest idea that you are eating, he is right there. It doesn’t matter what it is, he has to be part of your mealtime. Check out Sabel’s Picture Gallery here.

Belle and I are still working on our relationship. She is a very lovely cat, the picture of her mother. One back foot is completely tan, while the rest of her coat is a light brown tabby stripe. Belle likes to play and romp with the other cats, but if Barb or I try to approach her, she will run away. She spends a lot of time hiding under my bed or at the bottom of the stairwell with Snickerdoodle. Occasionally, she would follow me around from litter box to litter box as I cleaned them, sometimes taking a hesitant sniff of my extended hand. Lately, I’ve gotten her to follow me to a “special” dinner plate. It is the same food the other cats are eating, but I put it at a distance and as she eats, I am able to pet her a couple of times. Since doing this, she has seemed a little more at ease with me, staying to give me that characteristically aloof sniff. We still have a long way to go, but I am hopeful we will come to an understanding. I do have pictures of Belle in her Gallery for you to look at.

Ok, that comes to 1 old cat (Pagos), 2 kittens from Tortie (Bianca & Petunia), 4 kittens from Brownie (Waldo, Odessa, Pepper-Ann, & Button), 1 drop-off kitten (Snickerdoodle), 1 kitten possibly from Gabby (Darwin), and 5 kittens from Abby (Sunny, Reno, Potsy, Sabel, & Belle), then 1 lost kitten (Button) makes 13 cats at one time. Since the title of this Blog is “my life with 15 cats”, the story is obviously not yet complete. Guess I’ll have to write one more introductory entry. Check back in a few days.

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Potsy & Reno

August 2nd, 2009

With the acquisition of Darwin and Sunny, we kept trying to catch the remaining four kittens of Abby’s family. The kittens continued to come up to the deck to eat and play. We really enjoyed watching them scamper through the vines growing up from below. The black kitten was a particular fascination for me. It was obvious the father was a big black stray that periodically came up to eat. Both appeared to be pure black, sleek and beautiful. We never had a black cat before, and I very much wanted to collect this little guy.

Unfortunately, the black kitten was very elusive, and refused to enter the cage. But the dark brown tabby and the gray and tan kitten were not so coy. One evening, first one, then the other, decided to grab a quick snack following a good session of play. The tiny gray and tan kitten entered first, and while it munched, the dark brown tabby followed. Before either could change their minds and leave, I pulled the door closed and two more kittens were retrieved. These were the kittens I had been calling Reno and Potsy. We kept them in the big cage together, until they were tested for Feline Leukemia, and given a clean bill of health by the vet. Once they seemed at least a little accustomed to being around humans, we released them to the house, hoping they would learn to trust us more through observing the actions of their brother, Sunny and cousin, Darwin.

Reno is a very soft, full-coated brown tabby boy with dark black and gray markings. He is of similar size and coloring as Darwin, and unless we saw their faces or recognized some other characteristic, it was (and continues to be) difficult to tell them apart. Often, we just referred to them as “stripy-kitten” as they flashed or rolled past. Reno loves to have his head and neck rubbed, and will ask for such attentions whenever and wherever he wants. Sometimes he stands on his back feet and stretches up, clinging to my knee. Other times he will sit beside me on the bed as I’m getting dressed in the morning. As you scratch his head, he stretches and inches his way on your lap or off the edge of the bed, to the point where he sometimes falls on his head, unless I sit there and support him. While his head is being rubbed, his mouth relaxes and his lips curl up. It looks like he is grinning in ecstasy. It is the most comical thing to see. In the dark, I can always identify Reno by petting him. As my hand runs down his back, after a few strokes, he folds his tail back over his body, so your hand does a loop-d-loop. Reno is a real sweetie-pie! Reno’s Picture Gallery.

The dark gray and tan kitten turned out to be a little girl, another dilute (or muted) calico. Potsy doesn’t have the white spots that Bianca and Petunia have, she is just gray and tan. I like to call her my “little clown face”. If you look directly at her face, it looks like nature drew a line right down the center, between her eyes, then again cross-wise across her face. Opposite quadrants are gray and tan. But with her dark eyes, Potsy is really pretty cute. At first, she stayed out of reach of me. But I kept working at it, and eventually managed to pet her a little bit, even picking her up once or twice. Now, while she still doesn’t like to be picked up, she does like to be petted. One of her favorite places for attention is the bathroom. She has also been known to sleep with me over the winter. Potsy is very tiny, one of the smallest in the herd, but she holds her own against the boys, and loves to chase and to be chased. If no one is around to play with her, she is quite happy to play with herself, and has often been observed going round and round in circles, chasing her own tail. I wonder if she ever caught it? Potsy’s Picture Gallery.

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A Sunny Day

August 1st, 2009

When we first glimpsed Abby nursing her family in the grass, we could not count the kittens, but knew there were quite a few. It looked like there was a black kitten, and also a white kitten, with the others ranging in between. When she brought them up on the deck at first there seemed to be three, then four, and finally we counted five kittens! What I had thought was a “white” kitten was actually a light tan tabby. There was also a black, two brown tabbies and a dark gray with tan spots. There are actually five kittens in this picture, the black one is behind the table, out of sight.

Abby's Kitten on the Deck

After a few visits, the little tan tabby started appearing without mom, sometimes with a sibling, and sometimes alone. Without too much encouragement, the kitten pranced into the cage one day, and was collected. This little guy (yes, he was a little boy) was so very sweet and easy to domesticate. We decided to name him Sunny, not only because of his light tan coloring, but because of his sunny disposition. Since Darwin had just recently been released into the “big house”, and was the only youngster, we hustled Sunny through the vet visits, to be sure he was healthy, then started letting him exercise in the stairwell, where he could climb and romp. Darwin was overjoyed to find his little friend (or cousin?) again. They became great playmates, chasing each other and tussling. Sometimes their play resulted in one of them yelping, but no serious injuries were sustained though their battles.

After about a week of freedom, I came home Friday evening to find Sunny favoring his left front paw. It was painful to watch the little boy hobble around, but it did not seem to slow him down much. I had been through a similar experience with Waldo and Pepper-Ann. The emergency vet had told me then that kittens often injure themselves by jumping down from heights. Typically it is an overextension, not a broken bone. We decided to just keep an eye on how he progressed for a bit, but by Saturday, Sunny was still limping badly. So we packed him off the Emergency Veterinary Clinic. There he was examined and x-rays confirmed that there were no broken bones. He had simply jumped down from some high surface and landed hard. The vet did put him in a splint to take the pressure off the leg until it could heal a little. We were to leave it on for 3 days. Poor Sunny had almost as much problem walking with the splint on as he did with the untreated injury. If it were not so sad, it would have been funny. To keep him quite during the nights, I took him into my room with me, shutting the others out. After just two days, I took pity on him and removed the splint. I think that was the moment that Sunny and I bonded. He was so grateful to have that cumbrance removed and regain his freedom.

Sunny and His Splint

Sunny loves to play rough and tumble. Even at a year old now, he still ambushes the other cats, and loves to play with little mice toys. One of his favorites, a dirty sisal wrapped mouse with a little bell at the end of its tail, can keep him occupied for hours. As he bats it around on the stairway landing, he talks to it, chirping and cooing little meows. Sunny trusts us completely, so when he sleeps he is out. No cat naps for Sunny. It’s light out! Several times during the evenings, Sunny comes to my chair and climbs up on my shoulder. He just stands there and lets me pet him for a little bit. Sometimes, he will sit in my arms, but usually will get down after a short time. But he comes back up several times before we turn in for the night. I usually call him my “Sunny Bunny” since he is so incredibly sweet tempered. See more pictures of our photogenic Sunny at Sunny’s Picture Gallery.

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Kitten vs. Hailstorm

July 31st, 2009

During the summer of 2008, we continued to entertain the two new strays, Abby & Gabby. Gabby arrived regularly for every meal, and made the deck her own special sanctuary. She would sit for hours, just on the outside of the glass doors, looking in. Or she would curl up to nap at the door or under the grill. Abby was more or a free spirit. The only times we could count on her appearance was while she was raising her family under the deck.

Early in the summer of 2008, we discovered that Abby had given birth to two kittens, but neither survived. A few months later, it appeared that both strays were “in the family way”. We never got a look at Gabby’s family, but we did catch Abby nursing five kittens a few times in late July and early August. As I alluded to previously, Abby raised her family in the jungle under my deck. Once we knew we had kittens again, we got our trapping equipment readied for the great catch of 2008.

In early August, Abby came up to eat with a little black and gray tabby cat in tow. We were concerned, because we had most definitely seen her nursing at least four kittens. What had happened to the other kittens. Then we were relieved when we saw them nursing a day or so later. So why was this brave little soul coming up with Abby, and then by itself to eat and play on the deck? And where had it come from. We suspect this kitten was born to Gabby, and was either abandoned by her or was somehow adopted by Abby, probably after she began nursing her own kittens. We never knew if there had been other kittens in the litter, or if this were the only one. Either way, the kitten continued to come up on its own to eat and play alone on the deck.

We tried several times to catch the baby, but it was elusive and did not want to enter the cage. On August 8^th, following my church picnic, I tried one more time to entice the little tiger kitten into my cage. The need to catch the little one intensified, as the sky darkened and the wind picked up. It was obvious we were in for a nasty thunder storm. As the thunder began to roll in the distance, moving quickly toward us, I opened the door and brought my equipment inside. I expected this would scare the kitten and it would run down the stairs to safety. Instead, it hid behind one of our planters and began to cry loudly. As the storm approached, and it began to rain big drops, I decided to try and collect the kitten by hand. I would either been successful, or scare the kitten down to safety. So I stepped out on the deck and scooped it up in my hands, just as Abby reached the top of the stairs to retrieve the baby. I told Abby that I would take care of this one now, and shooed her down to take care of her brood. The little tiger kitten was tucked into the trap cage and taken downstairs to the big cage. Within 10 minutes of closing the door, it hailed and blew so hard, the yard and deck were white with hail, and it was piled about 1 1/2 inches high at the door. It also rained so much our road and half the front yard was flooded because the storm drains were blocked. Fortunately all the cats left outside were not injured by the storm.

The kitten was still pretty young, and fairly easy to handle. We found out it was a little boy, and my sister thought about calling him Samson, but we decided he didn’t look like a Samson. So we decided to call him Darwin. Darwin is a very sweet natured little boy with a massive purr. When excited (like a visit to the vet), he would scurry up my shoulder, or find a corner to hide in. But you could always locate him by his purr. He had a problem with diarrhea, even after being wormed. We found out he had a parasitic infection common to feral cats. It took several rounds of medicine to get rid of the parasite. On one of those visits to the vet, Darwin had himself so worked up that he pooped all over the examination table, the floor and me. I know he was sorry, and he was sick. So we did not get mad. In fact, every time I go there, one of the girls asks me how Darwin is doing, he left such an impression. Darwin is actually a brown tabby, with black and gray tiger stripes over a dusting of brown fur. Darwin’s pictures can be seen at Darwin’s Picture Gallery. At a year old, Darwin still has a big purr. When he uses it, I can always tell it is Darwin, as every 15-20 seconds, there is a catch or swallow that breaks it. He is so cute and bumps his hard head against you to get some attention. He is a sweet heart indeed!

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