I’m trying hard to work on the ending of this book. I’m ready to write it. But I have no neurons that aren’t affected by this stuff.
The cats are cranky. Impatient. And stupid. Shu nearly killed us both by throwing a body block on my feet as I headed down the hall. He wanted me to go to the kitchen and feed him. Now.
He ended up 3 feet down the hall.
I survived.
We hissed at each other and went our separate ways.
If atevi have five fingers, do they count with the middle finger first? One, three, five?
Watch Shu for that injured expression and artificial limp which my felines use in such situations. If your felines don’t do that, don’t let them read this!
That is what throw pillows are for.
LOL. I’ve been known to hiss and growl at the cats. As one friend once said, you sound like mama cat and it probably translates to ‘keep it up and I’ll rip your lips off.’ Worked well the other night (well, after I yelped) when Willow decided to use my shoulder as a hoist to get on to the bed. I have bruises around the punctures. Brat.
There’s a book title! How to Curse in Cat.
The white one, who turned 15 on the 11th did something to his right forepaw (probably strained something jumping down from some place where he wasn’t supposed to be). He was hopping around on one front foot for about a week, unwilling to put any weight on it at all. I checked the paw pad and no broken skin or sign he’d been bitten and palpated it. No swollen joints or areas, and he didn’t act like there was any tenderness when I touched it. He’s starting to put some weight on it now, but is still favoring it. Poor little guy. The black one, who delights in jumping out of ambush, has taken advantage of the situation, of course. He’s such a little thug. The grey one (who I should have named Barfarella) got up on the kitchen counter and knocked my med box on the floor. Only one pill got out, and she didn’t see it, thank goodness. I saw the box on the floor and my heart skipped a beat. None of the little doors were open enough for pills to get out, thank goodness!, but you better believe I checked every little compartment to make sure no pills were missing! She climbs like a monkey, that one. She can also wiggle through amazingly narrow and tiny openings. The front door to the apartment has no screen, and I’ve been training them with a rattle can to be afraid of the opening door (which squeaks, and which I won’t oil) and run and hide. I have an Indian carved rosewood 3-panel screen I put over the doorway that leads to the bedrooms when I go out, which allows me to bring in things in my wagon, like groceries, without fear that curiosity will get the better of one of them and they will slip out the door. The panels have legs on each end, and about a 3 inch gap between the bottom of the panel and the floor. Guess who can wiggle through the gap in about 2 seconds flat! I know she wiggles under the screen to get some peace and quiet from the black one. Did I mention what a little thug he is?
Shu weighs nearly 17 pounds. This is mostly muscle. Sei weighs 6.5 pounds. I just noticed this week that Shu has finally grown longer than Sei, and he certainly is larger in girth. Those of you who come to the family barbecue at Shejicon will get the family no-prize—an introduction to Shu and Sei, and hopefully they will behave. We do ask that nobody try to pick up Shu, or push an acquaintance. Warning, warning, Will Robinson. Although he is mellowing out a bit, he is still The Bengal Terror, as opposed to the Scottish Marshmallow. The Scottish Marshmallow has no brains, because his sign of affection is bashing his head as hard as he can against my laptop screen, particularly if I happen to be gaming, and even more so if I’m in a boss fight. The Bengal Terror simply walks across anything you have laid on the side table, and if this is your current project, tough.
LOL I have to laugh, my ‘scottish marshmallow’ only resembles a marshmallow in coloring. HER official nickname is ‘Bitchykitty’ and she’s got a tendency to turn around and hiss at you if you’re walking too close behind her, particularly up the stairs. Right now I’m getting pawed because she wants squished. No claws, yet, but if I don’t give her a firm full body hug soon they’ll come out. Goofy cat.
Holy mackerel, Shu has gotten large! Channeling his inner Bagheera, is he?
I think he is.
Ah, cats and their crazy-mysterious-inscrutable doings.
Smokey, sort of a virtual cousin of Shu, looks more like he’s been channeling his inner butterball, though this summer, he’s finally thinned down some. He still has a little belly, though. But he’s such a compact, stocky build, it would be hard for him not to be a little pudgy about the pot belly. Unlike Shu, he was a street kitten, a rescue. That was early, but it did have a profound effect. It’s also why he ~always~ wants food, even if he’s not hungry.
Goober, however, is the opposite, long and lanky and lean by nature. And because his owner when he was a kitten did some sort of food training I’ve never figured out, Goober will seldom come back and eat, at least while anyone’s looking. Goober is the Most Non-Assertive Cat in the Universe. (He can be passive-aggressive, a nag, if he really wants something badly enough, though.)
Smokey is Mr. Asserive. His motto is, “What’s yours is mine and you know it!”
Unfortunately, I scolded Goober only once, when Smokey first got here and Smokey went to eat out of Goober’s bowl. Very bad mistake I made. Goober has ever after always let Smokey take away his bowl. To be fair, Goober could see that the tiny kitten was half-starved back then, and although he hissed at the intrusion, I think he would’ve tolerated it. But he might’ve set limits. Or the big lug might’ve let the kitten steamroll right past. Sigh. I had tried, long ago, separating them, with a door between, to let Goober eat in peace. Result? Both cats grew frantic: “Let my buddy ~out~ from behind this door! Now! Oh, let him out!” Open the door, and both cats were happy again. Magic. It was the same reaction from both sides, too. So they get by this way. I’d put out less food, but I’m always concerned Goober isn’t getting enough.
The latest thing, howevere, is more of a problem. Somehow, since around April or May, Smokey got it into his furry, pointed little head that he wanted me (and the bed) all to himself. He badgered and buffaloed Goober repeatedly. Did Goober stand up to him, hiss, swat him, or wale the tar out of him? Nope. He hissed, he fussed somewhat and defended himself a little. (“What? You’re chasing me? Whatever for? I’m nice, I like you. Hey! Ow!” Hey, cut that out. Darn it!”) But Goober couldn’t — more like wouldn’t — stand up to Smokey to get him to stop, even though the bed (and being with me) is a most cherished thing for both cats. I objected, I scolded Smokey several times, but ultimately, the two have to work it out among themselves. Goober won’t get his bluff in. He’s just not assertive, tough enough. He’s too darned ~nice~. So he was at first relegated to a box or the other furniture, but not the bed, and finally, he’s taken to staying in the office most of the time. He will still come into the bedroom and get on something else for a few minutes, before taking off again.
My attempting to insist, by putting Goober on the bed, welcoming him, and pushing Smokey off when he tries to make trouble? Poor Goober took it as a rebuff to him too. Too much commotion and nonsense. He’d get off the bed. Thus defeating the purpose of inviting and defending him.
I’ll add, there’s been attempts at dominance / mounting behavior and mild but persistent bullying involved from Smokey. Goober objects to this, fussing, but only up to a point. I have only once seen him get truly fed up and put his foot down. … And then ten minutes later, go riht back to being a pushover, a sweetheart. Darn it, cat, there’s such a thing as being too nice, you know. (I wonder how much he and I are alike at times, by the way.) — Anyway, both are neutered males and both get out only supervised into the back yard. They occasionally try their luck at hopping the fence during this, but after enough times of barking dogs, lawnmowers, passing cars, strange human noises, they (hardly ever) seriously try that anymore. They’d rather dash for the door back inside. Which is smart, thankfully. But this means they don’t have other feline contacts, and just me for company. (I’m sure they see passing cats and squirrels and birds. But that doesn’t mean they’re friends with the passing outsider cats.) Er, in other words, any ah, normal urge to merge doesn’t have another outlet. This and jealousy (~my~ human, he’s mine!) may account for the dominance / mounting behavior. — From Smokey toward Goober. Goober keeps saying he doesn’t want to be bullied (or harassed, if that’s what it is) but it hasn’t gotten through to Smokey that Goober really means it, he’s just too darned nice to whack the little so-and-so and get the message across permanently, that he does not wish to be mucked with.
However — Otherwise, they rarely fuss. They don’t have a lot of jealousy or bickering, no more than any two housemates (or cremates) would. — And from time to time, I catch the two of them with Goober sharing his one sacrosanct, “This is MY spot” spot with Smokey. I’ll walk in or look over, and there they’ll be, on the top of the office file cabinet, which is Goober’s one place. But even that gets shared.
I can’t figure out how to break the logjam or checkmate that has Goober giving up what should be the one spot *I* insist (and Goober should insist) is shared, the bed, with me. My only guess is that in the winter, this may revert back to the old, much preferred, state where they both shared the bed gladly, with no fussing about it, with everybody welcome and paid attention to.
I don’t see a way to solve it, unless Goober gets almighty tired of it and insists on his right to share what’s supposed to be free, neutral, shared territory to begin with. To me, and formerly to them, it’s the one spot where they’re both always welcome, plenty of room to share, and guaranteed attention from me, or at least a cozy place where they won’t be bothered.
I have walked in when there’s loud noise around, to find both on the bed, at truce, détente, innocent as anything, content to share again.
When they do, there’s been peaceful coexistence or sometimes mutual grooming. So at least, I know they haven’t declared all out feud between each other. … But I don’t think either would. Smokey wants to be the boss, but he wants and needs Goober, and at heart, I think he’s sweeter than he sometimes acts. Goober…only wants either everyone to be his friend or else to be left in peace. I don’t think it much occurs to him to want to fight anyone. I suspect he would, if really pushed, or to defend home and family / pride, but, well, I did not expect him to let Smokey bully him off the bed and out of the bedroom.
I keep thinking I’ll find some way to get the message across to both fluff-brains that yes, they are *both* equally loved and both always welcome with me, that the bed is special, sacred territory where they are both always welcome — to *share*.
Yeah, sharing and being equally loved (fed, etc.) seem to be the big sticking point that’s not getting across to either feline mind.
Any suggestions for Feline Psychology 101, how to break up a dispute over what should be shared territory or not-shared food bowls?
Too bad I can’t ask Py, Hilfy, Khym, or Hallan. I’m sure they’d have good answers. Kohan might.
I suspect na Goober is the perpetual good-natured gentleman. His only thing is a tendency to vocal nagging when he really wants something, like Outside or You’ve Waited Too Long Past Meal Time. Mostly the former, less often the latter.
I suspect Smokey would try to tackle anyone, if he thought he had a chance at, a right to, anything or anyone. He, however, does have sense enough to know some things are Unsafe, and it’s better to revert to street kitten mode and hide. Goober does share that latter opinion.
But Smokey decided, after his first two or three weeks with me, that if the giant hairless two-legs (me) wasn’t going to *eat* him, and instead would give him *water* and *food* and a soft, warm, dry bed … and further, a big house with a friendly older cat to explore it all with, then hey, he must own the world, QED, so in his domain, he need fear no one…especially said older male cat…or the hew-mon, who turned out to be friendly instead of terrifying.
So…I have a feline dilemma. How to convince one cat to share and not to bully, and how to convince another cat to claim what’s his natural right anyway. Completely different personalities, and I wouldn’t take anything for either one of them.
Meanwhile, we have the new status quo, only less amenable and sharing than the prior status quo.
One hopes they’ll come back to their senses in the winter. One could use the advice, however.
One is lacking in gfi or uruus that the two might toast a cessation of disagreement over the points of contention.
We have 3 cats. One was a stray and the other two (sisters) are daughters of a feral cat and were only partially socialized. The former stray has serious problems with anxiety and submission with occasional bouts of fear-based aggression and peeing, but our vet found a med that she can tolerate (amitriptyline, which is delivered as a goo that I smear inside her ears — when she lets me). We also use Feliway diffusers (ComfortZone) and spray. Most important, perhaps, is we do our best to keep her isolated from the other cats. She lives in my office, which makes the other cats jealous.
One of the other two is a bit neurotic and is top cat. She starts at many sudden sounds or movements. Once she permits me to do so, however, she will also receive the amitriptyline. I’ve been working with her on acclimating her to having her ears played with. Just a few months ago, she decided that getting groomed was a lot of fun, so that’s been a big help. Given the opportunity, she will enter my office and annoy/terrorize the former stray. Every now and then, the two of them will seem to enjoy each other’s company (winkie eyes, nose sniffing), but those happy times rarely last. I escort the dominant kitty out (and give her lots of attention) when she enters my office and does not try to beat up or dominate the other cat.
The third is only a little shy. She loves to get groomed, and demands brushing and combing at least once a day. She also loves to play. I often place a different wand-like toy in each hand to entertain the two daughters of the feral.
So, to answer your question, meds, Feliway products, and perhaps Rescue Remedy might help. Giving the dominant cat some special attention away from the bed might help, too. I’m not a feline behaviorist, by a long shot!
Good luck!