[Larenti]
I’m hidin’
Category Archives: The Kids Photos
First day, first night
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.
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.
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…
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.
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).
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
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!
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…
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.
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.
To be adopted
After tending to the dreadful wound on his head, al-Zill showed great improvement. The severity of his neurological damage grew less with time.
But not entirely.
Still, when he shakes his head, he becomes a marionette under the control of hands plagued with seizures; when he stretches, his body caves in to demands of the mind that make little sense in the physical world; and when he leaps and runs, flailing limbs oft times leave him a bag of bones ripe for attack.
To make matters worse, he already has adopted me. He all but lives on my patio, taking refuge each night in the cat carrier I placed there for his protection, awaiting my arrival each afternoon and my awakening each morning so that we might visit together, leaping into my lap at every opportunity, rubbing against my face with his head, kissing me, playing with me, and otherwise being family to me.
As Mom asked the other day, how could I leave him here, leave him to life at the lake, leave him to the whims of others who might not be as caring, as loving, as understanding, as kind?
The answer: I can’t.
No doubt remains in my mind as to his ultimate disposition. He will join The Kids in due time. Soon.
Few would take on such a responsibility. Few would tolerate such a needful life. Few would give to one who requires so much.
But I would.
You want me to get out of what chair?
[Loki]