Cat Chronicles, May 2023

 Part 1: Mellow

Mellow was my cat for nine years.

He was a dapper tuxedo cat, and he was affectionate and cuddly, and he drooled. OMG, he drooled. The woman who gave him to me nicknamed him, “Slobberchops.” I tried to grab a towel to catch the runoff when he climbed up on me, and I threw towels to guests who were favored with his presence.

Every guest was favored with his presence. He was the official greeter at Casa Tuel. If you sat down at my kitchen table, you soon had Mellow in your lap. He was kind of shameless that way.

He was especially fond of climbing up on my left shoulder, circling around the back of my neck, and settling in facing forward on my right shoulder. I didn’t mind that. He only stayed for a few minutes before jumping down and taking off to do his own cat business.

He came to live with me from a dear friend in Oregon and was the king of the cats at Casa Tuel for nine years.

Rick and I always lived with an animal for a few days and let their name come to us. A few days in I thought, this cat is so mellow. So I started calling him Mellow. Major Jack Mellow, but Mellow was his call name (not that he’d come when I called).

When he started going outside and began hauling home bits of things he had killed, I realized that he wasn’t so mellow when hunting, but by then the name had stuck. So he was mellow, AND a cold-blooded murderer of whatever he could catch, usually rodents, occasionally a bird (which is why bird lovers wish all cats were indoors only, and it’s a good argument).

So I had Marley, my sweet dog, and Mellow, my sweet cat.

 When I fell and broke my back a couple of years ago, my friend Sonya, who had bonded with Mellow on her visits here, took him to her home to foster him while I recovered. Marley was eventually taken in by a VIPP volunteer during my absence in hospital and rehab. Marley arrived home the same day I did. Mellow didn’t return until November, when Sonya came up for Thanksgiving. I thought she’d get a cat of her own after that, but she did not. Mellow may have ruined her for other cats.

Mellow settled back in here fine.

He was a great communicator, was our Mellow. We had conversations. I would meow at him; he’d meow at me. I don’t know what we were saying, but apparently, we weren’t arguing.

He was an indoor/outdoor cat, because all the cats I’ve had all my life were indoor/outdoor. One of the bonuses of that was that I seldom had to clean his litter box. He preferred to go outside. That arrangement worked fine, for nine years.

Then one night a couple of months ago he wanted to go out. Usually I would have said, no, it’s too late, because I know that the coyote population on the island is thriving, and that they do kill people’s cats. But he was yowling a bit and demanding to go out. Eventually I said, oh, fine, and opened the door. Out he went, same as every time before, but this time he did not come back.

A lot of people offered to look for him, and did, because I can’t walk so well anymore, but he did not turn up. Gone without a trace.

I miss him.

Good night, sweet Mellow.

 

Part 2 The New Kids

After an indecently short period of grieving I saw a pair of bonded adult cats up for adoption online and I said, “I need cats!” I haven’t stopped feeling sad about losing Mellow, but it’s nice to have other living creatures in the house. As a cat-loving friend said, “They need you!” And I needed them.

Their Priormom had to drop everything and move back east to take care of her mother, who has large dogs. Priormom decided to leave the cats here. And that’s why I have two new fur roommates, an orange tabby boy, and a dark grey  and tan medium-longhair Maine Coon cat.

They were traumatized when they arrived. They’d lost their lifelong home, been in foster care for three weeks, and now they had landed up here in a strange house with a strange lady. They’ve been here two and a half weeks, and while the orange boy likes to rub up against my ankles and lets me scratch his back and rub his ears, the other one is such a spook that I’ve started calling her Cryptocat. Not sure if she really exists sometimes. I see her about once a day when she comes downstairs to eat.

After my experience with Mellow I decided that they would be 100% indoor cats. So far, it’s almost like not having cats after Mellow’s effusive affection, but cleaning litter boxes for two cats tells me that, oh yeah, I have cats, all right.

They had names when they came here. At present I’m calling the boy Brony, after adult male fans of My Little Pony. It’s a real thing. You can look it up. His given name when he arrived was Jibronie. I looked that up and found out it was a derogatory Italian word. Didn’t feel like calling a cat anything derogatory.

I find myself greeting him in the morning with, “Hey, Bro.” The other cat was named Macie, but I’m beginning to call her Mopsy, because my friend Sonya saw the cat’s picture and said, “She’s a mop!” Yeah, she kind of is, and it struck me that Mopsy might be her new name at Casa Tuel. We’ll see if it sticks.

Two totally different personalities than sweet old Mellow, but company all the same. Brony is affectionate enough for me at present. He likes to rub up against my ankles in the morning, and he allows me to scratch his back. I’ve been told that someday I’ll be minding my own business and one of them will crawl into my lap. I can wait.

 

Part 3:  May 15, 2023

Adjusting

I didn’t have to wait long. That very night Mopsy jumped up on my bed, came over to me and fell on me, and began snuggling and cuddling and kneading. My mind was blown but I started scratching her and she seemed delighted. I don’t know what flicked the switch. Maybe she was waiting to have her name changed?

Actually, I think what really did the trick was sitting in the living room throwing her Temptations cat treats. The next day she was literally eating treats out of my hand, and she is a bit of a chomper, so she bit my fingers, but gently, and I noticed that she got more careful right away. The last couple of days she has been lying on the cushion of the chair next to my recliner, looking at me flirtatiously through the side of the chair, and so far she has joined me when I go to bed for cuddle time.

I thought then that Brony, who was the first one to show any affection, would be a long haul because he wasn’t doing more than letting me pet him as he walked by, but today he jumped up on the back of my recliner, and went to sleep there.

My friend Sonya came to stay for a week, and now that’s she left the cats have backslid a little into their original spookiness. Perhaps her absence feels like abandonment to them? I don’t know. Still can’t do more than stroke Brony as he walks by, and Mopsy isn’t cuddling up to me every night, although she does like to sleep on the bed with me.

Now they spook and run off if I stand up to walk somewhere. My walker and wheelchair must seem like fearsome contraptions or even creatures to them. They always run away when I am using these aids to walk.

They run away a lot. It’s getting a little tedious to be honest. They’ve been here for a month now. They have figured out that I am the purveyor of treats, kibble, catnip, and canned food, so I have a lot of cred with them, but I am trying to adjust my expectations. They may never stop running away when I get up to walk, with or without assistance. I hope that eventually they will figure out they are safe here.

They are a huge change from Mellow, who liked to climb up me when I was sitting and liked sleeping on me when I was in bed. Well, I am soft.

They both surprise me every day. Some surprises are more pleasant than others. When I discovered that Brony had knocked the bag of catnip flavored greenies off the hutch, ripped a hole in the bottom, and eaten all the treats, it was not a happy surprise. He is a hunter, I’ve realized, and his hunting ground is the top of tables and counters.

I have never heard Brony meow, and Mopsy’s meow is a tiny little squeak. She is a Maine Coon Cat, so she’s large, and that tiny meow seems incongruous to me, but there it is.

I have not heard either of them purr.

Stay tuned for further developments.

Part 4: Cat Life Now at Casa Tuel

They do purr, almost inaudibly, and they do meow, but again, almost inaudibly, and rarely. Sometimes Brony will give a little cat, "chirp," but mostly they are non-talkers.

They are not physically affectionate, but they do like to hang out in whatever room I am in. I attribute this entirely to cat treats.

 They don't hang out together much. None of that cute cat yin-yang when two cats curl up together, but I do see them occasionally touch noses and give each other some grooming licks. And then, like as not, Brony gives Mopsy a good swat in the face. So much for that moment of tenderness.

I feel like they have made peace with being in their new home, and they are quiet company for their human. Their lack of showing affection still bewilders me a little after living with Mellow, but they are who they are, and because they are so stand-offish I feel complimented every time one of them deigns to come over to me to say hello and allow me the privilege of petting them. Cats.