Category Archives: The Kids Photos

A litany of one feline’s traits

Vazra, Grendel, and Kako sleeping on the love seat (151_5105)

More integration mayhem
[Vazra on the left; Kako sleeping above Grendel on the right]

These are various observations about Vazra…

He is a lap kitty.

He gives kisses.

He gives love bites, and he did so immediately following his dental surgery (as well as before).

Although larger than Kako in size, he actually weighs less than she does.  He’s a rather petite guy when you get beyond the fluffy fur.  Like Loki, he’s mostly hair.  Loki, though, weighs significantly more and is much larger than Vazra.  Given proper measurements of weight and mass, he’s actually the smallest cat in the house, although his fine-ass coat makes him a wee bit larger than Woman.

He asks for what he wants.

He drinks from my glass of water.  That means all five of them do it with absolute comfort.  Good.

He knows what food sounds like both when it comes from a can and when it comes from a bag; likewise, he is quickly learning to recognize the sounds of various treat containers.

He will eat out of my hand and will take food from between my fingers, and he does it gently.  Kazon, on the other hand, readily bites through my fingers, and that forces me to feed him only in an open hand.  Kako is gentle, however, like Vazra, and has only nipped me by accident when trying to take food from between my fingers.

He listens and responds.  He’s quite talkative.

He purrs at the drop of a hat.

He gives head butts.

He’s in no way put off by me putting my face near his, and he allows me to kiss and nuzzle him without negative reactions.  But he is still finicky in ways I don’t understand.  His reactions are not strongly predictable like the others.

He is rather lackadaisical with his response to the rest of The Kids.  He growls a bit if they approach when he’s trying to sleep or when he doesn’t see them coming.  He does get a bit overly excited at times and can be a bit rude with swings and hisses, but these times are rare and I’m learning how to predict and intercept them.

He rolls over and likes his belly rubbed.  He seems quite sensitive about when this is acceptable.

He sleeps with me all night.

He pays no attention whatsoever to the other cats when he decides he’s going to lie down.  This can sometimes be a very minor point of contention (it has thus far not caused any violence).

He has the largest eyes of all The Kids.  They very much augment his other Persian features.

He can be very temperamental.  I’m still learning about his personality.  Unlike the other cats, I was not around for his entire life, so it is up to me to figure him out and help him adapt to life in this home.  While I’m learning, there are still times when I’m surprised.  There are even times when I’m not sure if he’s going to hurt me.  He never has, and even his most violent responses are tempered and subdued.  And I’ve really pissed him off from time to time (especially with forcefully brushing his belly, chest, the back of his legs, and under his arms).  Live and learn…  Still, he is not a violent animal and reacts with restraint even under the most violative of circumstances.

He’s been playing with Kazon more often than anyone else.  This is normal as Kazon is the child of the family and loves to play.  He has no problem forcing it on others when his inner child breaches the surface and demands attention — and that’s pretty much all of the time.  When he’s forced it on Vazra, the reaction has been mixed.  They’ve played the majority of times.  I think that’s wonderful.

One of his nicknames (the first, although not likely the last) is Brat.  That has everything to do with his tendency to be quite vocal in ways that resemble a tantrum, and also his temperamental personality that can lead to entertaining but thus far not dangerous moments of “I want! I want! I want!”

He’s learned to use all of the cat furniture, although we’re still working on his rare inclination to use the love seat for a scratching post.  I’ve always hated it anyway, and I intend to get rid of it ASAP as it’s one of the final vestiges of Derek, yet I’m still working with him to ensure he understands what’s to be used for that purpose and what is off limits.  That will be important when I finally get rid of the POS love seat.

His plaintive cries to go outside, or those echoed throughout the house when I step outside for any purpose, are tapering off rapidly now.  If I’m out for longer than expected, he’ll show up at the door and start crying, but he’s becoming more comfortable both with being inside and with my comings and goings.

He loves to be in contact with me.

Like Kazon, he follows me often, much like a puppy.  Some of that may be his lack of comfort with new surroundings, in which case it will decline as we move forward.  It never did with Kazon, so it might never change with Vazra.

He can be quite psychotic when left to his own devices.  Without me seeing him, there are times when he’ll awake, find his way to some arbitrary door or cabinet, then suddenly beat on it while singing a woeful tale.  It’s funny.  It’s also a bit sad insomuch as he still reaches times when he knows he’s not in his usual element and desperately wants to find some order in things.  In time…

Did I mention he’s psychotic?  When he’s completely wound up and feeling particularly frisky, he spins in circles.  I at first thought he was chasing his own tail.  Further observation proved that wrong.  He just spins in a rapid circle.  More often than not, he does it two or three times, if not more.  He’ll do it even more often when he’s in a mood.

He’s quickly becoming more playful.  He did not play at all for the first few days he was in his new home.  I’ve tried continually to engage him and have enjoyed progressive results.  In fact, now he’s playing on his own from time to time.  It’s been wonderful to see him dropping the façade and stoicism more regularly.

I’m rather amazed with how personable he is.  It will be quite interesting to see how he responds to newcomers when that time comes.

I have seen in him the same deep reservoir of existence I see in all the other kids, a deep well from which his personality springs.  Without the gift of watching him grow up in my care, I am as entertained by his antics as I am in learning who he is and what he’s about.  I knew sufficient amounts of both before I rescued him.  Had I not, I would never have entertained trying to adopt him.  Based on the results thus far, confirming once again at least some minor level of expertise in observation, I’m thrilled with the results of my integration efforts and the overall “spirit” of home.  I see in The Kids a great deal of myself.  Their acceptance of Vazra is a perfect example.  He’s an outsider, a stranger, an unknown, a possible danger to them and theirs, and he certainly is not a part of the normal scheme of things.  Yet here he is, and they have essentially accepted him into our home since his introduction.  It’s amazing.  It’s more than amazing, actually; it’s quite extraordinary in a most intriguing way.

Yet it’s not statistically impossible.  My guess is I’m quite lucky in this regard, somehow gifted with four cats who are so entirely comfortable with their supremacy that an intruder is not considered a threat.

I’m sure it’s far less complicated than that.  Or is it?

Profile of Vazra (150_5061)

I’m assuming I own this place, right?

I Am Woman (or, Profile of a Bitch)

Close-up of Kako in natural light resting on the floor in the bedroom (151_5152)

[Kako]

[Update] I just realized this is a good shot of her ear freckles.  And why do they fascinate me so?  Because Kako was rescued with a serious ear mite infestation, I’ve always been worried those spots indicated a problem with her ears.  They don’t, and I’ve pestered her vet about it time and again to be certain.  They are freckles in the most innocent of ways.  With my own worry subdued with knowledge that they are indeed ear freckles and nothing more sinister, I’ve become intrigued by them to the extent of it being an obsession.  Well, almost.  I’ve never had a cat with ear freckles.  She is the first.  Hence my perhaps unhealthy hang-up with them.  Get over it.  I’m trying to.

A comparison of two cats

This is an exercise in betterment identification as recognized through fur.

Do you remember the first photographs I posted of Vazra?  They’re here.

For the sake of comparison, especially to identify how much better he is after his capture, here is one photo from that set along with a new photo of him (captured at the same time as this video).

Both are linked to hi-res versions.  Doesn’t he already look better, and this long before his coat refreshes based on a stable environment and proper nutrition?

First, the before:

Vazra sitting on the fence (144_4452)

And now, the after:

Vazra sitting by the door (150_5073)

I’m not feeling well, Daddy

Loki is still not doing well, but I do see minor improvements in some of his condition.  The coughing fits certainly have slowed and their severity appears somewhat reduced.  It looks more and more like late-onset acute asthma.  While the suddenness of the ailment has damaged his heart and keeps his lungs inflamed, the inhaled steroids certainly help.  He’ll continue on the twice-daily schedule for another week before a final decision is made on his diagnosis, but so far things are looking better.  Sadly, they reached a level of grave seriousness in so short a time that improvements still leave him scraping the bottom.

Loki sitting in the kitchen (114_1419)

He’s still quite sick though, and it shows in how much of his personality and physical prowess is now suppressed.  It has been traumatic to see him go so quickly from a master acrobat and supreme predator to the sickly and weak feline he now is.  He’s sleeping far more than the other cats; powernapping is a thing of the past.  His play is muted and squelched, often quickly grinding to a halt after but a minute or two.  Before, he would play for quite a while and would demonstrate mastery of physics through his fantastic skills both in the air and on his feet.  Now it’s a subdued kind of play.  I can’t help but recognize his fight to experience even a small bit of fun.

Loki continues his downhill slide by way of demonstrating abject fear of the other cats.  This is most disheartening.  He shrinks away from any feline that approaches him, and he readily gives up his food, water, or treats if anyone else comes along.  He will not play with them anymore.  I find myself having to intercept these interactions so he can have his space and feel secure in whatever he’s doing.  This is the most feared of all changes in his personality as it demonstrates he’s fully aware of his weakened state.  He avoids any confrontation, even if it is just passing by someone, because he undoubtedly feels threatened by his own ailment and inability to defend himself.  His siblings are now a threat.

He’s lost a whole pound (half a kilogram).  Because his fur is medium in length, the weight loss is not as apparent as it would be on cats with short fur.  That doesn’t mean it’s not noticeable, however, as I can feel the difference when I pick him up or pet him.  The ripped and defined musculature for which he has long been known seems to be fading into the background of a weakening body struggling to survive.

Close-up of Loki sleeping on the cat castle with his head hanging over the edge (119_1955)

At only nine-and-a-half years old, this rapid decline breaks my heart.

He is Hunter, that which is a predator of all things, the master of the hunt, and now he is afraid to stand his ground even for a meal.  He is Satan, the stealer of souls, he who inflicts harm for the fun of it, and now he barely can wrestle a toy from my hands and will not face a challenger.  He is Motor, the industriously happy cat, the rumbler of beds and shaker of couches with his incessantly pleasing and powerful purr, and yet now that harmonious sound is muffled and feeble, lacking strength and longevity, as likely to fade into sleep as it is to send him into a coughing fit.  He is Mr. Mouth, the talker of tall tales, the screamer and demander, the speaker at those who have no choice but to listen, and now he says so very little, and what he does say is short lived and quiet.

Looking up at Loki as he sits atop the bed (118_1853)

He is Loki, named for the Norse god of mischief who was as handsome as he was evil, a cat so named for being equal parts beauty and malevolence, yet his divinity has been taken away by his own body, his mastery of mischief a thing of the past, his beauty the remaining trait that fights to remain in the wake of this perpetual onslaught from the inside.