Category Archives: Kazon Photos

Mr. Man

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Mr. Man.  Kazon.  My baby.

Kazon sitting in front of the patio windows looking at me while sunshine streams in from behind him (162_6205)

Black like midnight.  Loving as though his life depended on it.  Companionship incarnate.

It’s the Mr. Man Show…
…starring Mr. Man!

Derek said those words all the time, amazed at how no one could take my place in Kazon’s world, sometimes hurt and sometimes amused by Panther Kitty’s ability to stand at the door and lament my absence with such brutality that it made Derek cry.  No matter how much he called out to him, Kazon would sit at the door and weep his longing upon the altar of desire with heartfelt calls begging me to return.

Nothing has changed in that regard.  Kazon was, is, and always will be my Baby, my Puppy, the child who needs me desperately if he is to survive.

He’s a Kazon man…
He’s so alive…
He ain’t got no boundaries…
He don’t compromise…

Sung to the stupid Ford truck commercial, that’s my own dimwitted greeting for Kazon from time to time, something I believe most people do when it comes to the animals who share their lives: take a song or jingle and modify it in the name of a loved one.

Kazon doesn’t care though, for he recognizes the salutation and responds to it.

While I think it unlikely, I fear for his well-being should he outlive me.  No one has ever been able to fill that place in his heart that belongs to me.  What would happen to him if I could no longer be his Daddy, his bed and cushion, his savior and buddy?

I wonder.

First day, first night

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Because Saturday went so well having al-Zill out and about for most of the day, yesterday I decided to leave him out as long as the situation warranted.  From the moment I awoke, he scurried and scampered in a continuing investigation of his new home and family.

The occasional hiss from one of the other cats in response to an invasion of personal space did little to worry me.

Generally speaking, al-Zill has done marvelously under the circumstances.  He knows to give Kako a wide berth; nevertheless, he continuously pushes her buttons in attempts to be friendly.

In that regard, he offers head butts and rubs to all of The Kids if he gets close enough.  Sometimes these are accepted graciously; other times, they are rebutted with hisses and even a few swats.

No significant violence has ensued, however, and that’s a good thing.

While stripping the bed yesterday as part of my effort to complete chores, I had all the help I could ever want—including the newcomer.

al-Zill, Kazon, Larenti, Vazra and Loki hanging out on the bed while I try to remove the sheets for laundering (20080525_05749)

Clockwise from left, that’s al-Zill, Kazon, Larenti, Vazra and Loki.  You can see how much assistance I received with retrieving the sheets for washing.

al-Zill lying on the bed (20080525_05750)

I believe it took all but a few minutes outside the bathroom for al-Zill to realize the bed wasn’t off limits.  And you know how cats love comfy beds…

al-Zill standing on the window sill looking out at the patio (20080525_05791)

As expected, he has spent some time pondering the patio from this new perspective.  That has been his home for quite some time, so he, like Larenti before him and Vazra before that, sees the outside world as the home he left, the place where food and water and shelter and safety came unflaggingly, where affection and attention never failed to deliver.

In due time, like the others, those memories will give way as the longing to return to that world diminishes in light of new joys in a new home.

His antics are endearing.  As a young cat, he’s as playful as he is charming—and mischievous.  One consideration I must keep in mind stems from his neurological damage.  Yesterday while dashing up and down the cat castle, hanging from it like a child on monkey bars, he slipped and fell.  Any other feline would have caught a grip on the way down, but al-Zill’s limbs chose that time to become erratic…so down he plummeted.

No harm done, though.  He rebounded and raced into the bedroom without a backward glance.

A close-up of al-Zill as he lies on the bedspread next to the foot of the bed (20080525_05779)

With one tipped ear and one torn ear, and scars from the tip of his nose to the base of his neck, he constantly sings testament to the dangers he faced and the certain death that awaited him.  With such an amiable personality and delightful countenance, I sometimes weep for what might have been had I left him to his fate.

He still seeks comfort and rest in the cat carrier I’ve left in the bathroom.  When he’s serious about taking a nap, that’s where he goes.  But still he joined us in bed overnight for several hours of dreamy sleep.

Several times he woke me with investigative trouble, whether by clearing the bathroom counter (as he’s still figuring out mirrors…) or trying to climb the office blinds (another learning experience…).  Then there was the crying, the touching call that echoed through the house as he moved about trying to find his place in the dark, trying to figure out precisely what to make of this new world.  His voice remains childlike, a lamentable sound reminiscent of a moaning toddler too lonely to survive.  I think his voice will never change following the brain damage he suffered (which marked its most dramatic transition from raspy feline to tearful baby).

A close-up of al-Zill as he lies in the cat bed next to the bedroom window (20080525_05808)

He’s already found a new bed: the round, soft feline furniture next to the window in the bedroom.  He’s played there, napped there, rested there.  I’ve seen him in it many times just in the last 24 hours.  His adaptation progresses as his ease grows.

Having been free to roam all day and all night, and given the lack of mayhem that ensued, I’m leaving the bathroom door open and allowing him to acclimate as he sees fit.  I interfere only when he gets into trouble.  So long as there are no major problems today, I’ll leave him out tomorrow while I go to the office.  That will be the first true test.

Do as the doctor ordered

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Kako lying on the floor with sunshine flooding in from behind her (20080419_04137)

Kako abhorred enjoyed her annual visit with the vet today for her exam and vaccinations.  In truth, her unpleasantness was subdued compared to most visits.  Sometimes we should be grateful for what age can bring…

She did try several times to climb into the cabinets above the examination counter.  At home she enjoys the cupboards above the refrigerator, beneath the kitchen counters and below the bathroom sink, so this came as no surprise.  She was unfortunately denied this escape in the doctor’s office, and that meant she instead cuddled in my arms for shelter.  Oh darn!

Kazon sitting on the bed (20080426_04991)

Although her overall health and condition are good, she does have yeast infections in her ears.  That means medication for two weeks.

Given that both she and Kazon had terrible mite infestations in their ears when they were young, this comes as no surprise.  Neither of them can properly address ear cleanliness since both suffer from oversensitivity.

I need to do a better job with the Oticalm from now on to keep this from recurring.  Or so I hope…

Grendel lying on the floor with sunshine blanketing his back (20080419_04122)

While speaking with the doctor, she brought up Grendel.  You see, this is the same doctor who has spent a great deal of time helping him through his various health issues, from hip surgery to asthma to bladder and kidney stones to inflammatory bowel issues.

She mentioned, like Kazon, that Grendel can never again have vaccinations.  His intestinal disease is caused by an overzealous immune system.  Since vaccinations activate the immune system and heighten its sensitivity, giving him any vaccination would only aggravate the problem.

That means two of The Kids will forgo vaccinations.  So be it.

A close-up of al-Zill as he sleeps on the patio in the fading light of sunset (20080516_05305)

Finally, al-Zill is in the bathroom, captured earlier today and awaiting his chance to visit the doctor tomorrow before becoming the latest member of The Kids.  His reaction to being caught has been less than disruptive, more like reserved curiosity than uninhibited panic.  I find that a good sign.

Of him I know this: he needs tapeworm treatment, upper respiratory and rabies vaccinations, and flea and tick treatment (along with heartworm and other preventative medicines, the same as The Kids get on a monthly basis).  Once he returns from the vet tomorrow, I will begin the integration process just as I did with Vazra and Larenti.

Despite worries to the contrary, seven is not a terrible number, and it certainly doesn’t make me some bizarre feline fetishist who intends to grow a home full of cats until it becomes a health hazard.  I cannot rescue more, cannot fathom the weight of such an idea.

But I also know that, despite all those who have reminded me that we—I—can’t save every animal in need, I remain adamant with my response: “Why not try?”  Too many feel that self-imposed prerequisite burden is enough of a reason to abstain from attempt.  I feel no such limits.  Only my self-control and logical outlook tell me I can’t rescue more, can’t provide safe home and hearth for additional lives.

Nevertheless, he will no longer be an outside cat, no longer be a homeless vagabond living on my patio and, given his neurological damage and physical limitations, hoping to get through another day without suffering an unspeakable fate.