Catscapades

There’s nothing like being the friend of a cat. Whether it’s your own cat that you care for, clean up after, groom, watch play, and just enjoy being around, or a relative’s or neighbor’s cat, the friendship is priceless.

Cats don’t trust easily. When you’re among those a cat trusts, it’s special indeed. When a cat shows you her belly, chooses to lounge next to you, or cur up in your lap, when she purrs and relaxes when you cradle her in your arms—that’s trust.

Yeah, it must be nice. When you rescue cats from precarious and often dangerous situations, however, that trust is displayed a bit differently. Yeah, I can look at Olivia’s fluffy tummy, but don’t touch it. She’ll curl up in my lap, but there are definite no-nos, like getting too friendly with one of her paws, for example.

Sophie is 17 years old, who, at ten weeks, was plucked from the streets, and we still cannot pick her up with her permission, and hold her in our arms. She’ll curl up in our lap and let us pet her all over, but do not envelop her with your hands or she will explode.

The truth is that you will have a different level and type of relationship with each of your cats. One may accept all hands on her. She’ll ride around on your shoulder, and allow you to pose with her for a photograph. Others, such as Olivia and Sophie, have restrictions. They love us, but on their own terms. They call the shots.

What’s heartening is watching the friendship between Sophie, who has been with us through four other cats over 17 years, and Olivia, who is just a year old. It’s as if Sophie has been waiting to meet Olivia for years. She has never made up to one of our cats like she has Olivia. They don’t curl up in a tight ball together to sleep, but they have what appears to be a meaningful relationship with an occasional licky-face between them, frequent checking on one another, occasional frolicking together, and, well a sort of mutual respect between them. We’re so pleased that Sophie accepted the intruding kitten and that Olivia seems to honor and respect Sophie.

We buy our cats cushy beds and put them in the perfect spot where they’ll be safe and comfortable during long naps. But it’s a rare cat in my household who will actually use the beds. Neither Olivia nor Sophie sleeps in a cat bed—ever. Another thing I notice about their sleeping habits is that they frequently change where they sleep.

I don’t know about you, but I check on the cats throughout the day. It’s summer, we’re in and out of the house. We have windows open at times—generally open only a smidge unless we’re in the room with the cats. Yes, we have window screens and screen doors, and neither of our cats seem to have a yearning to dart out the doors, however, if a door were to be left open or a screen should be pushed out, I don’t doubt they’d decide to take advantage or, heaven forbid, they could fall. I’ll never forget one time I was closing up for the night. It was summer and the doors were open. I went to close one door in a darkened room and there was resistance. I pushed the door a second. It wouldn’t close. So I opened it wide and Lily (our tabby) squeezed out into the room from between the door and the screen door. Oopsie. Imagine the potential danger and scare if the screen had been unlatched. … The things our cats teach us…

What I’ve noticed when I check on the cats throughout the day is that they sleep a lot—yeah, that’s what cats do, but also in different places. Sophie (at 17 years) is more predictable than Olivia is. I’ll find Sophie on my unmade bed first thing early in the mornings. When the sun comes out and the blinds are open, Sophie enjoys lolling in a sun puddle in the living room. Later, I’ll find her in one of four places—on my bed (after it’s made), curled up in the pink chair or the loveseat or sleeping in their nylon tunnel.

Olivia makes “bed checks” an adventure for me because I never know where she’ll be (an instinct from her wild ancestors to keep her enemies guessing, perhaps?) I’ve spent several minutes looking for Olivia in some of her favorite sleeping places, on a blanket in the closet, in the mauve recliner chair, under the sofa, under my desk in my office, in the nylon tunnel, on the window shelf (where I can’t see her behind the pink chair)… You get the picture. Sometimes I finally spot her under the kitchen table sleeping among the chair legs or behind a basket of alphabet blocks almost in plain sight. I’ll sometimes walk past her several times calling for her before spotting her. Can you imagine if this wild child with her creative character had access to the out of doors?

Olivia has a gorgeous fluffy white tummy that I love to tickle when she displays it during one of her yoga stretches. She prefers, however, that I keep my hands off her delicate tummy, so mostly try to I comply. While admiring her tummy one day this last week I recalled an article I read once describing how cat color is formed in the womb. I thought you might be interested too, so I went in search of the article and didn’t find it. As I recall, one fact I thought fascinating was that kittens start out white. The color is produced from top to bottom which is why so many cats have white tummies. Many calicos do, as well as tabbies, tuxedo cats and some others. You’ll also notice that a lot of cats have white paws—giving the impression that the gestation period sometimes ends before all of the kitten’s color is dispersed, so the extremities are left white.

I didn’t find that particular article, but here’s one about cat color that is equally interesting. It’s packed with color- and pattern-related information—some of which you’ve probably never heard before. For example,

• Cats come in only 3 colors—black, red, or white or some combination or dilution of these colors (black becomes blue and red becomes cream). I read this and I was left wondering about cats in brown shades—pointed Himalayan’s or Siamese, for example, or the Havanna Brown. Turns out that shades of brown in a cat’s fur actually comes from the black gene.
• A white cat is called piebald. I remember when I was involved in horses—a horse with a mostly white face was called a piebald. Interesting term. A white cat is thought to lack pigmentation—so technically white isn’t a color, but a lack of color.
• All cats are tabbies. I can certainly see some striping patterns in Olivia’s calico patches, but what about solid-colored cats? Experts say that many kittens show the tabby pattern when little and that if you look at your cat’s fur in the bright sunlight, you might see hints of tabby, even if the stripes aren’t

Here’s a site that further details some of the points I’ve made here and offers quite an extended lesson in cat color. Enjoy. https://www.catster.com/cats-101/different-cat-colors

Hey, that might be a good title for one of her books. You may have noticed that so far I’m using Olivia’s name in the titles for the Calico Cat Mysteries. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to come up with title ideas, but it’s fun while it lasts.

I chose the title for this post because of Olivia’s quirky purrsonality. As you know I had her tested to see what cat breeds are in her DNA. She is definitely an interesting blend of breeds, and sometimes an inkling of a particular breed seems to emerge.

Now that I know Olivia’s DNA make-up I often attribute some of her characteristics and traits to one or more of her possible ancestors. Sometimes she’s super snuggly and clingy like her Persian, Ragdoll, or Maine coon ancestors. Other days she’s aloof and standoffish—she doesn’t even want me to touch her, more like the Egyptian Mau. She can be as active as the Abyssinian and as quiet as the Ragdoll. She might carry something in her mouth and even go fetch it and bring it to me like the Abyssinian or the Ragdoll in her genetic pool might, and she can jump like a gazelle—wait, that’s not a cat. She is thought to come from the genetic pool of the Cheetah, so maybe that’s where that skill comes from.

I have to wonder though if the part of her that isn’t a breed at all, but a color pattern—the calico—is trumping all of the breeds when it comes to her sometimes quirky—sweet and sassy behavior.

I’ve learned a lot over the years about cats and their traits and preferences. It’s been an interesting and enjoyable journey. One thing that was always fairly straightforward with all of the cats I’ve loved is their eating habits. You put down a plate or a bowl of food and they eat it. Oh, we’ve had cats, over the years get sick and stop eating. Red Flag! That cat gets an immediate trip to the vet. We discover the problem, attempt to remedy it and usually the cat will resume eating—depending on the problem and the age of the cat and so forth.

Then Came Olivia (yeah, that’s the title for my next Calico Cat Mystery). Well, she has never been a very good eater, yet she’s a fairly big girl and has plenty of meat on her bones. At nearly 11 pounds, I’m sure she’s just fine. But darn it, I want to see her eat.

As a kitten, she got canned and dry kitten food and I’d see her eat it. In fact, I’d sit and watch to make sure which cat was getting the right food—Sophie, our senior cat, does not need the rich kitten food, and Olivia, as a kitten, couldn’t have regular cat food. Sometimes Olivia would not eat while I watched, so I’d leave the area and go about my business. The food would often disappear at some point, but I wasn’t always sure who ate it.

I’d sit with Olivia when I’d feed her and watch her sneak up to the plate as if stalking it, take a sniff, maybe a taste, and dart off to parts unknown. Sometimes I’d watch for thirty minutes—nothing. I’d leave the area and come back to find the food gone.

When we switched Olivia to adult food she started eating a bit of the canned version more often. Then she stopped altogether. She still wasn’t losing weight, so I was pretty sure she was eating enough kibbles to keep her going. The vet finds nothing wrong with her and, as I said, she is maintaining a good weight. She just thinks canned food is gross—unless she decides she wants to eat it.

Well, I’ve quit putting a plate down for her when I feed Sophie (who adores canned food). Sometimes she hears the can open and tears into the kitchen all excited, runs to her feeding spot and waits. So I fix her a plate. Sometimes she will eat it. Often, however, she will sniff the food and walk away. Sometimes she’ll refuse the food, then come back and eat it.

Lately, however, she is back to ankle-hugging me while I prepare Sophie’s meal. She runs to her old eating spot waiting for her plate. Eight times out of ten, lately, she’s been eating it, especially if it contains liver. Who knew? We’re feeding a lot of liver-flavored cat food these days in case Olivia feels like eating it.