Tag: cats

The Cat Front

The Cat Front is a lot like a weather front without the heat, moisture, winds and barometric pressures, and with more paws, claws, fur and teeth. The Cat Front is more similar to the front lines of other challenges, like war, pestilence and disease.

On my Cat Front, our cats have been battling an illness. It’s gone from one to another. It seems like a type of flu. Boo Radley developed it first, refusing to eat for several days, vomiting and hiding out to sleep. I was doing everything to comfort him. This struck on a Thursday. Being a passive person, I tracked him through Friday and into Saturday, confirming, no, he’s not eating. No, he’s not injured anywhere. Yes, something is wrong.

But I kept trying to get him to eat. BR is a big boy so he had the chubbiness to endure a few days without eating. By late Sunday, he finally started up, and was his normal eating fellow by Monday.

I went through the same with Quinn, a small cat, whose diminished caloric intake was much more worrisome. Perhaps because he’s younger, he pulled through faster. Then it struck Tucker. Tucker, though, has a love affair with food ,so despite his sickness, he always attempted to eat. He usually eats about four and a half ounces twice a day. During this sickness, he was below one ounce.

But he, too, was only down for three days (perhaps assisted by a recent antibiotics injection to cope with his gingivitis stomatitis). Pepper, the neighbor’s cat who begs me for food and sleeps on my front porch, went down while Tucker was down. She’s a chunky girl and came back after two days, just a little lighter.

The worse was Meep.

He is the youngest of our ad hoc clowder. Meep is another neighbor’s cat. Strangely, he isn’t permitted into their home, so we take him in to shelter him during cold or poor weather. We ensure he gets fed at least twice a day, and that he has fresh water available. Not surprisingly, he hangs around our house, mostly in the back yard.

There are complications. These are cats. Boo and Meep fight. Boo and Tucker fight. Tucker and Meep fight. Those fights involving Tucker are of the “I am going to eradicate you” variety. The other cats tread warily around him. We’re working on it but meanwhile, separate but equal rules. This segregation is about as satisfying as the SCOTUS ruling regarding education.

Meep went down several days ago. And disappeared. We spent hours searching for him. After two days, he showed up again. Skinny. I tried feeding him. He made a lot of high pitched, growling, “I’m pissed off noises”, accompanied by feline demonstrations that he wasn’t in the mood.

He left, disappearing again. Two more days. The daytime temps dropped from the low nineties into the high seventies, which was a break, and humidity rose, but smoke from wildfires was filling our valley, causing breathing issues, and nocturnal temps descended to the low forties. I thought the worse about Meep and continued my searching.

He reappeared, sleeping in his bed on the back patio Friday. After drinking water and disdaining food, he ran at my approach and became scarce again. He returned last night. This time, I coaxed him into the house. He’d been enduring his illness longer than the others. I figured being outdoors probably contributed to that so I wanted to keep him in. He didn’t want that, but he did drink water. Determined that he needed food, I cradled him and force fed him.

He wasn’t happy. Again he demanded, “Freedom!” Again, I acquiesced. This time, he stayed on the porch overnight.

This morning, he approached our door in his old way. He wasn’t quite ready to eat. I offered food. He licked a little. I offered more. He licked a little. So this continued through the morning, until he finally ate several tablespoons of food on his own. Then he came by me and rubbed against my leg before wandering off to wash and sleep.

It can get tense, on the Cat Front, but I think the worse has passed.

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When Does Food Go Bad?

First, we must consider, what do we mean when we say Food has ‘gone bad’?

Short of Food killing other Food or leaping out of the refrigerator or cupboard with weapons in their hands or explosives strapped around its jar or box, it’s often difficult to determine when Food has gone bad. Some will consider Food bad much more quickly than others, refusing to eat it because it’s ‘gone bad’, while others, particularly bachelors, will dismiss claims Food has gone bad and eat him anyway. This is often true with Food like Pizza, but not Beer and Wine. When Beer goes bad, it becomes skunky, with a foul taste, or flat. Wine takes on a sour, bitter tone that reminds you of Bitter Ben.

Milk, on the other hand, doesn’t fake it when it goes bad. Beware of Milk that has gone bad. Milk that goes bad can become violent, even explosive, with lingering results.

Also watch out for Fish and Meat that has gone bad. You know what I mean.

Food can go bad for many reasons. Food sometimes goes bad as an acting out mechanism when he’s not getting the attention he thinks he needs or deserves. Sometimes Food isn’t happy with his home life, or he gets left out of activities, locked up and forgotten. He might go bad because of his environment. The temperature might be too low, permitting low life bacteria to affect Food. Or Food is shut up with undesirables who put out gases, pressuring Food to spoil.

But that is the nurturing aspect of Food going bad. Sometimes Food goes bad because he was born bad, co-existing with other materials that negatively affects Food, like when Food wasn’t washed properly after he was picked. Personal hygiene is very important to help keep Food from going bad.

When Food goes bad is like many problems throughout human existence, with multiple facets to consider for dealing with the situation. Constant monitoring and early detection is important to save Food. Sometimes bad Food can be saved by re-purposing it. Some Food can be frozen and used later when they go start going bad. The thing to remember is that every Food is unique, and what you learn about one Food may not apply to other Foods. If in doubt about whether Food has gone bad, ask a cat. If a cat walks away from it, the Food has probably gone bad.

Cats just don’t tolerate bad food. Just ask any cat person.

Note: no food was harmed while I wrote this post, but several cats were annoyed and disappointed. Now they want something else that isn’t ‘Food gone bad’.

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The Tale of Two Cats

I have two cats, Tucker and Quinn. Each choose our house. Quinn came half a dozen years plus ago. I was out a cold winter December midnight, calling my cats, the late memorable Scheckter, and Lady. Quinn rushed over. He clearly belonged to someone. We put up posters, they came, claimed him, and took him home. He came back to us. Again, and again. The charade ended after a few months. We were his. They since moved away without him.

Tucker showed up sick and injured a few years ago. He’s black and white, and was dirty, with infections. I fed him, providing him water, shelter, a place to sleep, checking on him. Once trust was established, he entered the house. I searched for his people. He wasn’t chipped and nobody was looking for him. Posters brought no seekers. We took him to the vet and treated his issues. He was neutered, has gained weight and is now a handsome boy.

Cat number three…came to us last fall. I called him Stubby. A black beauty with a white chest triangle, he had no tail, just a stump. He’s clearly been abused by his reactions to feet and hands. My wife renamed him Boo Radley. I searched for Boo’s owners. No one hunted him but he was clearly a house cat, and expected us to serve him. We fed him, ensured he had water and a place to sleep. Then winter hit…. You’ve seen this movie. You know the plot.

Fourth is Meep. Meep is the Orange Prince, a little blade of a cat, and so sweet. Meep belongs to the people who live behind us. Here are the points about Meep.

  1. Boo is out to dominate Meep. Meep doesn’t want to be dominated. Fights ensure.
  2. Tucker is a fierce fighter. One mighty fur and fury battle arose one night. Tucker intimidates Boo, who watches him carefully and makes great warning noises. Meep becomes the orange bolt when he sees Tucker. He’s off and gone, trailing Roadrunner smoke. Meep, Boo and Tucker are kept separated from one another. It’s like a chess game on my part as I move and segregate cats, loving on them and feeding them. (Fortunately, Quinn is accepted by all three of them.)
  3. But Meep likes our house.
  4. He’s not permitted in his people’s house, apparently not under any conditions. So he’s always at our house. I bring Meep into the house to feed him twice a day (after locking up Boo and Tucker in separate rooms), and provide him sanctuary against fireworks, storms and cold temps, putting him in the guest room with food, water and a litter box. He scratches on the door when he wants out.

Meep has mites. He has terrible mites. Glances into his ears confirmed it, and they gave him huge issues. Raw scratches around and behind the ears ensued. Naturally, we had to clean his ears and start him on miticide. Our treatment of his situation changed his treatment of us. He used to bound into our house, tail up, raging with purrs and meows. Now he became wary. Cautious.

He even avoided coming into the house.

Despite losing his trust, we persevered. It wasn’t fun, becoming a perceived threat, but it was better for him that it be done. We cleaned his ears and treated him for three days, and then stopped to assess, continuing to clean, when we could get him to let us. That became tougher as he kept his distance.

Last evening, as always, he was sleeping in an unused grow box in our back yard. It was time for his feeding so I opened the back door and called. He arose, crossed the patio and stopped. Sitting down ten feet away, he watched me with sad golden eyes.

I lowered myself onto the ground at the door and put out a hand. I usually call him by the name we’ve given him, Meep, but last night, I blinked my eyes at him and called, “Here, kitty, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty.” Softly, softly, again, and again, and again.

He rose. Stretched. Looked around. Raised his tail. Sauntered over. Paused on the threshold. Looked around again. Stepped in. Pressed himself against my arms and sides. Released a squeaky purr. I closed the door. He escorted me to his guest room, and I fed him.

He returned this morning, came in and ate, and promptly came in this evening. We resumed his treatment this evening. This time, he accepted it with little complaint and didn’t race away. His tail was straight up until it curved into a question at the end.

We feel he’s recognized that whatever we were doing made him feel better, and so he’s forgiven us, and trust us once again. I appreciate that he trusts us, since he’s not our cat.

Tucker and Quinn were on the desk asleep beside me as I typed this. Then Meep and Boo got into it in the back yard. T & Q rose up to investigate and I went out to separate and placate.

Cats have always liked me. My wife calls me the cat whisperer. Cats love to visit me, quickly making themselves comfortable on my desk, my lap, my chairs, my patio. There was Grace, Alexander, Scratchy and Blur. All belonged to neighbors but could be readily found at my house all hours of the day and night.

I could tell you about Pepper, who sleeps on our porch and cries for food (which I give her), but she’s not our cat, belonging to the person next store. I could mention Buddy, the small black who visits me when I check the mail or do yard work. He lives across the street. Sketch, a gray and white neighborhood newcomer, could be mentioned, as his people have discovered that he likes it around my yard. I try not to get too friendly or familiar with Pepper, Sketch and Buddy.

I have two cats.

I don’t need more.

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Good Omens

A restful night’s sleep.

(With interesting dreams.)

Happy cats.

(Fed, contented, and not fighting.)

The window sills painted.

(They look great.)

(And I am pleased.)

Blue sky and sunshine.

(No clouds at all!)

Warm weather.

(68 now but due to reach 84.)

Soft breeze.

(Cool with spring’s fading influence.)

(And fresh with blooms’ sweet fragrances.)

No redlights!

(This might be a first.)

The perfect table, in the perfect location.

(Quiet solitude to edit.)

An awesome quad shot 12 oz mocha.

(Non-fat.)

(And delicious.)

All signs are trending up.

(It’ll be a good session.)

Time to write like crazy.

(One more time.)

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