A Valentine's Day for cat lovers?

I wish there was a Valentine's day for cat-human partners.

Neither she nor I got a Valentine card last week, not even an anonymous one. But we have each other.

Who wants a same-species partner, anyway? I certainly don't. I don't get on with strange cats and I would  be devastated (and very angry) if a new cat came into the household. I am a one-woman cat.

She doesn't want one either. She has had her share and now she prefers the serenity of sleeping in the double bed - without a man.

She is not alone, of course. Neither of us are alone. We suit each other (even though I find her tiresome, very tiresome, at times). She loves me and sometimes I love her back.

How?

I give her the slow blink that tells her I am feeling love. Or IO rub against her. Or, in my case, I give her the privilege of petting me while I sleep on her lap.

I am better for her than any other human. I don't answer back, I listen when she is boring on about something, I don't tell her what to do or how to dress, and I don't care that she is older than me.

What human would want another human, when they can get a cat?

Eight weeks define my life

 

The most important period of my life was the first eight weeks of my kittenhood. The Jesuits, if they had been interested in cats not humans, would have known this. They said "Give me a child till he is seven years old and I will show you the man."

So give a kitten like me to loving humans until it is eight weeks old, and then you see see the adult cat.

I was lucky. I was given human love in my first eight weeks. So I grew up relaxed and happy around humans. Those weeks defined my future.

If I had been a feral kitten, born into the wild, I would have grown up to be feral. Without any gentle human handling, I would have feared humans probably for the rest of my life. I would have been miserable in a human home. 

Feral kittens can be rehabilitated, if they are rescued early enough, but it takes effort. There are some rehab ideas here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUcNQYso5XM

Remember, you stupid humans, we need gentle handling from the second week of our lives. You can also read it here.

 

 

 

 

 

Moonlight is my light

Moonlight is my favourite light, when I am in the country. The owls come out to glide silently across the sky or perch in the trees hooting. Deer step gracefully out of the woods to eat in the fields. Small rodents come out of hiding.

And I am at home in this twilight world. I can see clearly where humans are blinded by darkness. I can hear the smallest rustle of a vole in the grass.

Humans may notice a pair of eyes reflecting the moonlight but they cannot fully recognise my outline. This is my world, not theirs.

Even in the town, this kind of light makes me happy. Street lighting has more shadows than moonlight but still creates a kind of twilight. Only the glare of passing traffic headlights ruins the night.

Inside human homes there are bright light bulbs and noise TVs. Here in the street is my world.

 

Recognise my pain

 

Signs of pain - narrowed eyes, tight face, stary ungroomed coat, ears lowered, tense body posture rather than relaxed posture. Difficult to see because of long hair. Attention inwards not outwards. Fewer movements of any kind. His head is lowish.

I'm a cat so I hide my pain. That's what we are programmed to do, to prevent larger predators seeing us as easy prey. We don't wimper or howl. We don't complain.

The only exception is when we might shriek in the middle of an violent attack or accident. 

We suffer silently, uncomplaining and stoic, during illness or pain. So our humans don't recognise that we are suffering until it is really, really bad.

Probably the most obvious sign is lack of appetite. The litter tray may reveal bowel or urine differences. Our humans should take photos for the vet.

Your human can and should do something NOW. Get the free app - https://www.felinegrimacescale.com/phone-app  

It will help them recognise our suffering. 

Builders in my territory....hiss

Don't you hate them.... strange men carrying a hold-all full of tools. Smelling of wood, plaster, metal, and sometimes of the yappy dog that is in their van.

They invade our home, bringing in their horrible scent to ruin the reassuring family scent. They are noisy -  drilling, thumping, banging, and hammering. And, if we're unlucky, they bring a radio with loud rock music.

In the evening when they have gone and we inspect our home territory, we find there is CHANGE.

I hate change. I want my safe family territory to stay the same, just as I want my daily routine to be unaltered.

Builders ruin that. So I hiss at them. I might even need to pee on their toolbox. 

Builders! You have been warned.