The Calls of the Wild

Cutting cats’ claws isn’t usually an ordeal, though it often depends on the cat, and sometimes it depends on the audience.

I tried to have some privacy to cut Indigo’s claws. She didn’t like the process and started complaining. Apparently Moxy heard this and came into the room, making his characteristic diminuendoes. This attracted Sable, who trotted up to the Mixer giving voice to her own hooting sounds. Valkyrie hurried in from somewhere; she dislikes Indie and began wailing at her. All of this caused Indigo further stress, and she cried and growled even more. I managed to cut all of her claws, but it was like sunset in the jungle, with every animal having his say before bedtime.

Next time, I’ll just close the door.

A Cruel Cut

It’s claw-trimming time again at the Cosy Cabin. I am fortunate in that I am able to cut the claws of seven of the eight cats living with me (Sable being the exception). There is resistance - squirming, fidgeting, twisting - but nothing serious; certainly no cat enjoys it. But I can accomplish the task.

First up was Millie. I had to pause between cutting the claws of the different paws, as it was too much for her patience. She became rather growly after each paw was finished. In fact, when I completed the first paw, she walked away in a huff, then turned, came back and slapped my hand.

Maybe they’ll appreciate me more when they move out, get jobs and places of their own…

The Food Campaign

Valkyrie’s liquid poop continues. The various kinds of food the veterinary recommended did not help. She only ate one of them - the others were not to her liking - and it had no effect on her. Neither did Metamucil help - it was intended to firm up her stool   though I was able to feed that to her without difficulty, hidden in her food. The doctor was reluctant to prescribe antibiotics, as they would have adverse side-effects; as well, there seems to be nothing other than her feces’ condition that would indicate an infection. A probiotic cannot be given to Valk in an amount large enough to have an effect: she doesn’t mind it, but won’t eat anything with too much of it included.

Since she is otherwise appearing healthy - still very active, bright, alert and playful - it may be that Valkyrie has developed an allergy. First, I tried reducing the amount of fish that she consuming but that too had no effect. Now, I am attempting to eliminate chicken from her diet. If that is the culprit, a week’s starvation of chicken should show a result.

The initial step is finding something without chicken that she likes to eat. Most of the flavours of food that she does enjoy have in them chicken or a component of unidentified origin, such as ‘meat by-product’ or ‘liver’. This means buying the more expensive, more specific brands. So far, the only one out of several that she likes is Fussie Cat tuna-and-mussels. Trying to test her preferences means finding what she will eat before actually keeping her on that diet, so it will be a while yet before this new meal plan creates results - if it does at all. In the meantime, of course, I must still feed this long, slender cat what she will eat.

Too Close for Olfactory Comfort

As readers may recall, Indigo has taken to sleeping on the bed each night, very close to my face. This has not been much of a problem until last night. I think she may have thrown up somewhere, or had some sort of acid reflux episode. Her breath was terrible. It was so bad that I couldn’t stand to have her near. Regretfully, I had to push her away. I hated doing that, for she had no idea why she was being shunned. Having to tell a friend she has stinky breath is bad enough. When she can’t understand what you tell her, it’s impossible.

Inside Discipline

Sable hasn’t come back onto the bed at night. For the most part, she likes to lie on the window sill in the dark, and catch the scents that the air brings her. Perhaps it makes her melancholy for the old days of her freedom. Perhaps she smells something dangerous, and is glad she can relax inside. I don’t know.

I do know that she is responding to me more. She likes to pick at the window from time to time. I am unsure if it is the screen - since I never find any damage when I inspect it - or the frame, but I don’t want to take the chance. Therefore, when I hear her do that, I speak her name warningly. She stops. When she keeps doing it, I have to speak more sternly. Then, she stops and lies down. I can almost hear her sigh, her fun ended by her captor.

Being a housecat can be enjoyable - but it takes some getting used to.

Another Step

Sable took another step forward last night. I woke about 12.30 and, on my way to the facilities, I noticed a fourth cat on the bed. Usually, there is Imogen on the near side by my head and Indigo on the far side, also by my head, and Moxy by my feet. This time, there was another cat curled up next to the Mixer. At first, I thought it was Valkyrie. Indistinct in the darkness, the form nonetheless looked too large for Valk, so I switched on the light. It was Sable.

This is the first time she has been on the bed while I was in it. Alas, my disturbance of her slumber caused her to drop to the floor. But she has not yet retraced steps she has once taken. I hope and expect her new night-time position will be, if not regular, then at least common. We’ll see.

The Culprit

I have a set of 1928 Encyclopaedia Britannica. They are in very good condition, for century-old books. I like to read through them when I have a few minutes, rather than reading a more involved narrative for such a short time. I have learned a great deal from them. I have often left the volumes lying about, on the dining table for instance. They have not suffered injury.

Yesterday, however, I came home to find this.

The volume had been on the table and closed, but someone flipped open the back cover and tore the last page completely out of the book. I don’t know who it was, but I have my suspicions.

I have strong suspicions.

I have very strong suspicions.