Tuesday looked like being busy, so on Monday night I thought I’d make a head start on my next blog post and perhaps it would have worked out, if Little Man had remained asleep.
Not a chance.
It has recently become his evening routine to clamber onto my desk, alternately blocking my view of the computer and climbing on my shoulder for cuddles.
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Since the advent of this young boy, I have had to learn how to carry out numerous functions with a cat perched on my right shoulder.
But I’ve had a little practice:
Mohammed, my very first cat liked to climb aboard, but only briefly.
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Annie came from a shelter and I always believed that she’d been abandoned by the person she loved, or perhaps her owner had died.
When she was presented to me, she sat in my lap purring and drooling. I think she thought her person had come back and she attached to me like velcro.
If I bent over when Annie was around, she jumped onto my back and rode around on it. She always did this – until I returned home after spine surgery – she never did it again.
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Those two were the cats that demonstrated a wish to ride around. There were many others who indulged my need.
Thimphu was the most agreeable of all cats. He loved everybody and tolerated being handled and transported around.
Himalayans tend to be easy-going, but Thimphu was one laid-back cat.
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Yeti was also Himalayan. She came to me at only 5 weeks old but never wailed for her mother.
Yeti moved with me three times, including once coast to coast but she took it all in stride and not once did she appear disturbed.
Yeti was agreeable to cuddling, but did not demand it.
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Little black Panther appointed himself my Main Man.
As such, he expected to be informed of my every movement, where I was going and when I’d be back.
In return, he tolerated handling, but what he most wanted was attention, pulling female visitor’s hair and knocking male visitor’s hats off.
After Panther died in 2014, Lily became my senior cat, though she never appeared to assert it.
Four years later, the “upstairs” cats and remaining fosters settled into a consolidated household where we are now. For a few months Lily attached to me, sitting behind me on my chair, climbing up my back, but soon she abandoned me and moved downstairs to be with Grant. Perhaps it was after he lost his boy Tom.
In multi-cat homes, every loss changes the dynamic and after Tom, there were 8 more losses over a period of 6 years.
It was after Sophia’s death that Lily came back to me, but in the meantime several others had attached to me in the final year of their lives.
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Lucy, another Himalayan, had always stayed close and followed me around, but it was only in that last year that she needed to be with me at night.
It was much more surprising when Toby began coming to bed with me. I loved him dearly, but he had been a little standoffish, until suddenly he wasn’t.
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Patches was the dearest little cat but terribly shy. Maybe the other losses made room for her. One night she jumped up onto my bed and there she was every night for the rest of her life.
When she was gone, Muffin took the assignment.
Muffin was failing and we knew her time was short. It seemed to me to have become a pattern with our aging, ailing cats, that they attached themselves to the old woman. There has to be more to it than coincidence. Recognition of being at the same time of life, perhaps.
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Georgy was an old boy when he came to me after being rescued from a neglectful owner.
He was a love. How I wished I could have had him longer.
I mention him only because I couldn’t leave out my other Himalayan.
Curiously, he and Lucy had both lost their right eye.
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So there have been a fair number of clinging cats, but none quite like Little Man. He is not yet 3 and full of energy. His companions being quite long in the tooth, he seems a little mad, but we fondly remember kittens and love having a youngster in the house to lift our spirits.
It took a while, but I got used to brushing my teeth with a cat on my shoulder, even – with difficulty – getting dressed.
The other night Little Man was helping me wash my hands when Lily came by demanding to be picked up so she could drink from the tap. Little Man did not wish yet to get down, so I crouched and managed to lift Lily up while the boy dug his claws in to hold on tight.
There’s nothing new about that. The boy frequently launches from the floor onto my shoulder and if I’m not expecting it, or if he makes a poor job of it, the claws are applied. I think of him now as my acupuncturist.
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He’s an equal-opportunity cat. He does it to Grant too.
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I have never had a cat that wanted to sit on my shoulders or be carried around. There is something very endearing about those cats that want to do that to be close to you. I will be looking after Basil the dog again soon, so I expect his claws will perform the role of acupuncturist for a while.
Best wishes, Pete.
I think Basil may get spoiled.
I enjoy reading about all the habits of your cats – and also lovingly remembering the cats I got to know through your blog that you’ve lost over the years. With such a cute little face like Little Man’s, I wouldn’t mind if he wanted to sit on my shoulder all day – acupuncture without spending a single cent (or penny 😉).
What lovely stories. -Gladys