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Call it what it is.
We live in a zoo.
It’s just as well no-one ever comes here to see it.
What comes to mind is the hippopotamus house at the London Zoo of my childhood.
Perhaps I exaggerate.
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We came here with 13 cats.
In Washington, there had been many more, though half of them lived in their own specially-designed suite.
Lots of cats cause lots of mess. This you must accept.
If you are house proud – don’t get a cat.
The mess increases exponentially – or does it?
I could swear we had less chaos with 13 than we now have with 7.
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“Please tell me you’re not going to blame me!”
Blame is useless, isn’t it?
Fact is, I knew when I saw Grant carry the kitten indoors that life would shortly go upside down.
There would be issues with the 6 aging lady-cats.
Some of those issues would have repercussions.
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Poor complicated Willow would feel threatened. Not necessarily physically, since she was twice his size then, but she would see him as an interloper.
If I had shunned the kitten and had nothing to do with it, would it have made a difference?
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Somehow I doubt it.
In any case Willow has not received any less attention from me since the boy came in. At night he goes downstairs to sleep with Grant, allowing Willow to slumber in peace, wherever she decides.
Willow regards me as hers and at times of her choosing, I must make a fuss of her, in the manner she dictates, no lap time, no picking her up.
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Could you have ignored this face?
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He was so small and vulnerable.
And soft and demanding of cuddles.
Such things are mine to give. I would love to cuddle Willow, but the only time I’ve been able to hold her was when we went through security at SEATAC airport. I was terrified she would struggle, get free and run off.
Luckily she felt safer in my arms.
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Did I say he was vulnerable?
Not for long. Pushy, he soon became.
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He appropriated the cat tree.
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Laid claim to Grant.
This was a great affront to Dee Dee, Grant’s Number One.
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But Dee Dee is a very confident cat.
She knows she is Number One.
The only punishment she awards is a dark look.
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Blackie greets any new circumstance with wide eyes and an excess of caution.
If in doubt, she feels concealment is the wise move. Being black, any dark corner will suit.
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“You want this tree? OK, I go…”
She accepts all, without complaint.
I think she’s a Buddhist.
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Shy Sophia keeps a very low profile, coming up only to request, in the sweetest way:
“Did you buy fried chicken?”
She adores it like nothing else. These days she sits watching birds from her window and Little Man thinks she wants to play. We quickly disabuse him of the idea:
“LITTLE MAN!!! NO!!”
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Muffin is a tiny cat, but she’s no pushover.
“This is my afternoon chair!”
When Grant sits there at lunchtime, she sits staring at him until he gets up to surrender it.
The boy tried to roughhouse with her and swiftly got a paw in his face. Now, he is more respectful in his approach.
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Whatever Dee Dee thinks, Lily is actually the senior cat and it seems she has communicated this to Little Man.
When he loitered by the front door, hesitating to enter after his adventure, it was Lily’s loud voice that brought him over the sill.
Lily has had silent periods, but she has always been a singer. Ever since the night of Little Man’s return, she has been doing it regularly and the moment he hears the call, the boy abandons whatever he is doing and rushes off to answer the summons.
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Of the 6, the only cat that was going to demonstrate against Little Man was Willow.
My boy Panther used to indicate annoyance by peeing outside the litter box. Willow doesn’t do it to be naughty, but because she feels threatened or insecure, or possibly because she has neurological issues.
For months however, there was no evidence of the situation escalating.
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Little Man returned from his holiday with a slight attitude, a sort of “I’m a big boy now!” air about him.
It was probably a result of getting in touch with the call of the wild. We thought he had lost forever a little of his innocence, but after a week or so he seemed to revert.
But since then there have been signs of – out-of-the-box.
Poor Willow always got the blame but remember the other day when I mentioned laundry?
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Specifically, it was Grants bed sheets, blankets and mattress cover that had been anointed by – the boy.
He was neutered months ago, so why?
Grant has a theory about grey cats, based on the fact that every grey cat we’ve ever known has been guilty.
Who would put up with such a situation?
It is frustrating, perplexing and at times I despair, but the option is not acceptable.
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So we wash and we clean and we cover.
We place boxes on chairs and sofas to keep them off…
…and we live in a zoo.
They say a bottle of water keeps cats away. I don’t know if that’s true.
Thank you, Carolyn, for your excellent photography and for devoting today’s post to your relationship with residing cats, especially the adorable Little Man!
Joanna
Little Man like to mark his territory, neutered or not. Perhaps he is picking up on Grant’s male hormones?
Best wishes, Pete.
A delightful catalogue today with only a minor catastrophe!
I really enjoy your kitty cat tales, and the pictures that follow along. So entertaining!
All of your cats are adorable, and Little Man always makes me smile!
I certainly understand all that you do for them! ❤️
Catherine
Muffin looks so smug but also “don’t you dare touch this chair!”
Blackie is gorgeous. What a menagerie.