Larenti is the largest member of The Kids.  He also happens to be the most docile cat in the house, one who shrinks from most encounters and shuns confrontation.

I’ve always suspected his early years brought with them some kind of abuse given his fear of hands, and likewise I think the formative nature of growing up left him with a dread running through his every interaction and encounter with other creatures.  His size alone makes him a formidable presence; his personality strips away that advantage and replaces it with palpable cowardice.

Vazra, on the other hand, is a petite feline if one ignores the plush fur that doubles his size, yet he fears nothing.  With a devil-may-care attitude he does as he wishes sans any consideration for others, and he defends himself with vigilance and might.  Not that he’s violent, mind you, but he certainly puts up with no flack from anyone.

If he wants to lie somewhere, by golly he’s going to lie there no matter who he has to step on or smother in the process.  If he wants to get in my lap and it’s already occupied, he’ll gladly climb atop the current occupant in order to claim some bit of Daddy’s time and personal space.  Yet he has such a small frame that it’s easy to misjudge his weight when picking him up given that his hair makes him appear twice as large as he really is.  But he doesn’t let that get in the way of his confidence or demeanor.

al-Zill remains a kitten at heart.  Young of body and mind, his rambunctious spirit crashes through most every second of the day.  He gleefully romps about without any concern for others, tackling the first cat to walk by, chasing anything that moves (and quite a bit that doesn’t move), confronting others in the cat boxes, taking random swings at others hoping to induce play, and otherwise being what a child should be: a meddlesome, troublesome bundle of energy.

While physically he is a relatively small cat with a wee bit of extra padding around the middle, like any juvenile he fears nothing.  When surprised, he flees to a safe distance until he understands the situation, but mostly he sees everything and everyone as a toy, and he lives every moment as though enjoyment lost then can never be regained.  And damn the consequences!

The smallest fur person in the house, Kako most likely is the most powerful inhabitant of the xenogere homestead.  Being the lone female in a house full of boys means she has to make up with attitude what she lacks in size and strength.  And attitude she has in abundance.

Kako takes no crap from anyone, least of all me.  All I need do is point at her for doing something wrong and her ears go back as she takes a swing at my parental display (if not several swings).  If any of The Kids invade her space, she growls and howls and puts on a show that would make any reasonable person think she was being tortured.  When it comes to defending her own honor and safety, all of the cats know better than to mess with her.  Petite body notwithstanding, she’s a powerful force and a dangerous woman.  Besides, she also happens to be Daddy’s Girl, so she knows I’ll come to the rescue at the drop of a hat (not that I often need to, but she plays that card when necessary).

Kazon equals Larenti in size, except he doesn’t carry the extra weight.  He’s a lean jock, a large tom with a wide, powerful head that matches his considerable dimensions.  Although without a doubt the biggest baby in the house, my puppy who will never grown out of his childish mind, Kazon puts on the cloak of a big boy when the need arises.

I’m convinced he hasn’t a clue how big and powerful he is.  He still sometimes forgets about his own ass when he jumps up on furniture, leaving him hanging by his front claws while his back feet sway in the wind.  Nevertheless, he tries to assist with discipline from time to time and he dives into kitten-like mayhem without notice, and more often than not it’s his overwhelming size that wins the day.  (In most cases, he simply crashes on top of his playmate in order to win.)

Despite age and asthma, Loki remains a menacing feline.  While it goes without saying that he is physically powerful and agile, his dominance stems more from his mind than his body.  He is a plotter and planner, one who carefully and quickly thinks through every action to ensure he manipulates events to his liking.  Though not always the winner at play—or even getting the resting spot he wants most—Loki represents one of the most dangerous things in the universe: a predator with a sharp mind and the physical power to back it up.

Loki is a hazardous foe because he has the potent body of a true killer, but he is even more dangerous because he has the one tool that can win over brawn every single time: a developed intellect that is as keen as it is cunning.  Even as the years have begun slowing him down and even as acute asthma has made him want for breath in the midst of trouble, he wields forethought like a sword.  This has made him the true god of mischief.

My sickly baby.  Grendel has spent his entire life dealing with one ailment after another: arthritic bone spurs in his hips, acute asthma, stones in his kidneys and bladder, and an immune system that now attacks his own intestines.  From his first year he battled ailment after ailment, yet he remained the alpha of the clan.  Large enough to throw his weight around, thoughtful enough to know that one cannot rule by violence alone, strong enough to put his foot down when needed, and smart enough to let others have their way from time to time, Grendel epitomizes the best kind strength: the gentle kind.

Illness and years have robbed him of much of his potency.  He lost enough weight such that he can no longer whip up on others to keep them in line.  But he tries, and many times he succeeds; but more often than not he prefers to stay out of the fray.  How I miss his casual enforcement of his rights, barely lifting from a resting position to knock away those who would steal his bed.  How I miss the confidence that once dripped from his every move.  Yet what disease and time have stolen from him I give back by proxy.  Grendel will be the alpha until he dies; the others know this and respect it, even if I have to make sure they don’t push him too far.

A close-up of Kako on a cloudy day as she looks out the bedroom doors toward the patio.  You can almost hear the wheels turning inside her head as she plots her next move…

Despite his worsening asthma, Loki remains a devilishly spry cat for his age.  Both he and Grendel will be twelve years old in February 2009.  That’s the human equivalent of being 65 years old.

I see age beginning to slow down The Great Satan, however, and I see asthma taking its toll as well.  His plotting, scheming, conniving ways have been subdued of late, less vile than they were some years ago.  He still conspires to perpetrate evil at every opportunity, mind you, but his body no longer can support the near constant malevolence he once visited upon the world.

Kazon remains on a powerful regimen of antibiotics and steroids in an attempt to subdue his out-of-control immune system that seems intent on harming his own body.  As ill as he was when I rescued him in the first few months of his life, it now appears that the terrible childhood he suffered has finally come back to haunt him.

Now a full ten years old in human terms, his own species would equate that age with being in his mid to late fifties.  I see how growing older brings old ghosts out of the shadows and into focus.  Yet he remains my Baby Boy, my Puppy, the one member of The Kids who I know could not survive without me.  His emotional attachment to me is of such profound energy that it becomes palpable each and every day.

My high-maintenance cat, Grendel has suffered throughout his life with one ailment after another.  From bone spurs in his hips to acute asthma to inflammatory bowel disorder (an immune system dysfunction) to kidney and bladder stones, Sponge always has made it through a difficult life with the grandest composure and perseverance.  He remains to this day a proud, capable, fearless companion.

Yet as I always discuss with the vets, time proves over and over again that the next shoe will eventually fall, and we saw that next problem begin just a few months ago.  With alarming weight loss and the onset of tremors, a lifetime of steroid use appears to have finally caught up with him.  All examinations and tests indicate his shaking stems from neurological damage; one vet likened it to the appearance of Alzheimer’s disease.  His age will not help this latest affliction, nor will his waning strength allow him to adjust as easily.  Even today I saw him struggle to leap from the cat castle to the desk where he might enjoy a refreshing bit of ice water from my glass.  The hesitation he now shows breaks my heart.

More than twelve human years old, placing him near 70 feline years old, Vazra recovered from near death and shows a youthful exuberance for life that dwarfs the survival instinct of many humans.  His poor dental health two years ago spelled certain doom for him, what with it keeping him from eating and drinking and grooming, yet removing seven teeth gave him a new lease on life.  He took his rescue in stride, quickly making himself at home with The Kids as a member of the family, and he demonstrates an unequaled ability to disregard hardship in favor of getting through just one more day.

As the oldest member of the family, I look at him now compared to when I rescued him and think about what might have happened had I not intervened.  More importantly, I wonder about his health as he grows older.  But those concerns aside, this Persian offers unconditional love and gratitude at every opportunity, and his newfound health and vitality bring joy to my heart every time I look at him and remember what might have been.

My Lion.  Only six human years/40 feline years old, Larenti lives in a perpetual state of discovery, fear and timidity.  He is the largest cat in the house, yet he also is the most afraid.  Slowly he has shown increasing comfort; nevertheless, the unending reservoir from which he draws fright at even the smallest surprise continually worries me.  Some horrific tragedy befell this poor soul before I rescued him.  I only hope he remains on this path to overcoming that anxiety.

Larenti’s young age and juvenile spirit lend themselves to a good deal of energy and mischief.  I laugh heartily when I see him play, when I see him stir up trouble by stalking someone in one of the litter boxes, or when I recognize his purring request for attention each night as he leaps atop the bed to join us for a spot of sleep.  I trust he has many years left to travel, many days of quality and joy and comfort.

al-Zill is a child.  Scarcely more than two years old, his feline age of 24 means he remains immature, rambunctious, meddlesome.  I affectionately chastise him continuously for getting into trouble, whether it be destroying an entire package of toilet paper under the bathroom counter or endlessly trying to engage one of the other children in rough horseplay.  Yet such things are to be expected from someone so young, especially someone with neurological damage as severe as his.

There are times when I forget about al-Zill’s mental incapacity; he leaps and runs and plays with rugged determination.  Then there are times when that now invisible head wound becomes apparent: he still shows instability when I pick him up and set him down, his body convulses from time to time when he tries to run or leap or scratch a difficult-to-reach spot, and a simple shake of his head can throw him to the ground as though struck by some invisible force.  However, he’s young enough to adapt, something he’s doing quite well already, and a full life stretches out before him so long as he remains in a safe place that can accommodate his special needs.

Like her brother Kazon, Kako has reached her mid to late fifties in terms of feline years, although her bad health early in life does not seem to have affected her quite so severely.  Sure, she has a perpetual problem with her ears due to the mite infestation she had way back then, but medication every month or two clears that up and leaves her ready to tackle the world.  And tackle the world she does.

Yet being a bitch is not all this Lady has to hold on to; she is, after all, Daddy’s Girl, and she claims that which only she can claim: being the sole female in the house.  When I’m not home, she spends a great deal of time with Grendel, her man, but she’s all mine if I’m available.  I see age taking from her little by little the energy she once had.  This has in no way stopped her from ruling the roost.  She proffers horrific cries when someone invades her personal space even if they don’t come within arm’s length of her; she defends her gentlemen (Grendel and I) with a fierceness unrivaled by great white sharks on the hunt; and she embodies the universal truth of no home needing more than one female cat, no kingdom requiring more than One Queen to Rule Them All.  I think it’s her female superiority that keeps her from showing her age more than she does.  I wonder how long she can keep up that dichotomy…

— — — — — — — — — —

Henry lived almost 22 human years—104 feline years—before his body stopped living up to his spirit’s expectations.  Only in the last months of his life did age catch up with the immortal soul of a god that dwelled within his flesh.

Very much unlike the current members of The Kids, I did not bathe Henry in perpetual health care for every little infirmity, every little hiccup in the natural order of things.  Instead, I focused on his happiness, watched him closely and did what I thought best for each problem as it cropped up, and in the end I found myself justified in the approach that favored quality over quantity without delving endlessly into unneeded, unnecessary, unjustified meddling by veterinary professionals.

Looking back on life at this moment, I question my present methodology with regards to my children…

Methinks the time has come for a serious examination of care, an unquestioned scrutiny of how I deal with The Kids and their well-being.  Although I would dare not second-guess myself with regards to critical action in a time of need, I’m left wondering if my efforts, like so much human health-care that lends itself to more suffering and hardship, have made life more difficult for these cats who look to me for wisdom in cases where they cannot offer as much.

I began this post with a bit of humor…

But then I looked at these images and pondered Kako’s disposition.

And then I began remembering precisely why her proclivity for lying on the back of the couch and facing away from everyone else in the room made for an uproarious laughter-fest.

It was Derek who first pointed out this preternatural tendency to demonstrate profound disdain.  As I reviewed these images, I laughed until I cried, and then I cried because I wanted so much for him to see these pictures, to appreciate that Kako remains disgusted by intrusions upon her time, that she still sleeps facing the wall in undeniable revulsion at those why might stare, might rest their prying eyes upon her dainty figure.

She so enjoys this declaration of importance: that she would rather face the wall and rest her eyes upon its stoic, unchanging form than to have to look upon the repulsive faces of us insignificant beings.

The scene is simple: Kako is lying next to the patio doors in the bedroom.  Vazra decides to lie down next to her.  Larenti sneaks in behind them to sit by the open windows.

The problem is equally simple: Kako hates all her siblings except Grendel.  In fact, she deplores Vazra only slightly less than she deplores Larenti, and that is unequal only to her hatred of al-Zill.  Oh, and she barely tolerates her own brother Kazon, let alone the devil incarnate, Loki.

So how did they all respond to this apparent conflict?  Each according to their gifts and dispositions of course!

Vazra pretended not to see Kako and instead looked out toward the patio, casting an intentionally disregarding look in her direction—but not at her, mind you, but instead over her.

Larenti decided it best not to get involved.  He pointed his attention out the open windows and put the potential ugliness behind him…both literally and figuratively.

Kako aimed her steely gaze at Vazra and never blinked, staring at him with a disdain that was palpable like a fog of evil intent filling the room and covering me from head to toe.  He knew it wise to make any motion a movement away from her.

Grendel

Loki

Kako

Kazon

Vazra

Larenti

al-Zill

Collectively taking their leave…

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.

After what seemed like an eternity getting from diagnosis to surgery, my father went under the proverbial knife Thursday to remove the aggressive tumors invading his head from within his sinus cavities.  I believe we spent more than 14 hours at the hospital that day and felt at the end of it as though we hadn’t slept in weeks.

Stress, anxiety and lack of rest notwithstanding, however, the surgery went smoothly.  The tumors were not as large as the doctors originally feared, so it only took about two hours to remove the offending tissue.

Additional “unusual growths” were found and removed at the same time.  More testing will be done on those and the inverted papillomas to determine if he needs other follow-up treatments.

Meanwhile, he’s now home and feels much better than anticipated or expected.

Time will tell the ultimate outcome, mind you, but thus far we’re thrilled with the lack of problems, the overall prognosis and his quick recovery.

As for al-Zill, he’s had two introductions to the rest of The Kids.

Grendel has been less than welcoming.  As the alpha male of the clan, this comes as no surprise.  I’ll have to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t do too much to damage al-Zill’s calm.

Kako has been…  Well, she’s been Kako.  Rude, way harsh, bitchy…  I like that she’s consistent.  Allow me to note one interesting moment: She walked right by him at one point without realizing who he was, probably assuming she was passing her brother instead of the intruder, and she casually went on with her business without ever looking at him, let alone hissing or growling or swinging or anything else.  I had to laugh about that.

Kazon demonstrated an ambivalent distance at first, a wee bit of hissing rigidity next, and finally topped it off with curiosity mixed with indifference.

Loki surprised me by letting al-Zill lie with him for a bit, a touch of mutual grooming included.  But then the devil showed his true colors with a sneaky bite and slap which sent al-Zill fleeing.  Typical.

Larenti seemed interested yet reserved, sniffing when the opportunity presented itself, offering a few playful swats here and there, and ultimately being the most welcoming tempered with reticence.

Vazra, as expected, showed true feline curiosity at first.  Once he realized no threat existed, he quickly became disinterested.  He’s his own cat, after all, and he really focuses on himself more than anything else.  He did take a few swings when al-Zill invaded his space, but these were nothing more than casual movements not intended to do harm.

As for al-Zill himself, it behooved him to be submissive and friendly, which is precisely what he did.  He offered rubs to every cat he encountered and gave plenty of space when the welcome was less than warm.  He cautiously roamed the entire house, sometimes with tail tucked and sometimes with it held proudly toward the sky.

A great deal of his time was spent investigating the windows and doors with a serious eye toward the patio.  Remember, that has been his safe spot and home for quite some time now.  It must have seemed eerily familiar yet alien to see it from this side of the glass.

He attempted escape once as I came back inside from the patio.  To be honest, it scared the hell out of me that he actually might succeed.  Recapturing him would present little problem, sure, but I’ve always feared for any of The Kids should they get outside.  al-Zill’s neurological problems make that concern sharper and clearer.

I salvaged the situation, however, and he remained in the house where he needs to be.  That ended his free roaming for now and he’s back in the bathroom where he can rest a bit and eat and drink without interference.  This respite also gives the other cats time to relax.

I’ll continue these outings for him over the next week, slowly increasing the time he spends freely outside the bathroom while monitoring for any unpleasantness between him and the other predators ruling the roost.  Unless something cataclysmic happens between now and then, I suspect he’ll be out and about permanently by next weekend.

As for me, I feel like I have a hangover from a week-long drinking binge.  Tired.  Sore.  Anxious.  Befuddled by a mental fog that won’t end.

Considering I was the only one of us children to attend and help with my father’s surgery, and considering I was the only one of four who has been there from the beginning to make sure we got through this successfully, I feel disappointed, heavily burdened, fatigued.

On top of that, capturing al-Zill last weekend and his following adoption and integration since then only added to the weight I carried.  Again I say Mom was right: Life has a way of piling up all at once.

I wish I could say the long weekend will help.  Regrettably, I go on call Monday.  The only rest I will get comes today and tomorrow.  The holiday is lost to me, as is the three-day weekend.

[note that I'll begin work on al-Zill's page in the next few days and will update the links in his posts while migrating those entries into the appropriate categories]

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.

Did you have a toy at sunset?  Was your evening filled with play that no one dared interrupt?  What happiness did you experience as the sun fell below the horizon, as you held firmly to a bit of catnip fun?

[Kako]