In my work career, Ive had great supervisors and terrible ones. This morning, as Mary Ann was feeding the cats, I heard her say "So, you all are here to supervise my work, are you?" and I realized how insightful that comment was. Not only do they act like supervisors during food preparation times, but they are pretty poor at the job. Let me show you what I mean.
I should say one thing in their behalf - feeding time to them is like a publication deadline with a major story still being finalized - high stress, very important, and fear of a poor outcome.
Since I "work" with these cats every day, and I dont want to hurt our relationship, I've changed their names in this story to protect their identities. "Flower Stuff" is probably the best of the lot, but by saying that I really mean she is the least worst. She stays close, watches our work carefully, is in the way whenever we turn around, sends out body language vibes but is less of a proactive bad supervisor in other ways.
"Clucky" cant help himself. He has to know what is going on, and gets real frustrated if he cant be right there. When this impulse overcomes his better sense, he is right in the middle of things, checking every little detail and constantly getting in the way. He is like the supervisor who feels that he needs to check every little thing you do, and is so much in the way that the product delivery is delayed and tempers get short.
"Charley" is in the middle. He does emit the aura of the supervisor, and exerts his rights to monitor what is going on. For the most part, he stays out of arms reach (barely) and silently observes, but when he senses that his portion of the work is almost done, he swoops in to check and be sure. He does know that this is all disruptive, and is willing to observe from a distance but he does this from a strategic view slightly above our work surface where our every move is under his gaze, and he cant resist that final check. At least he does just check the product and then goes on to wait for delivery, confident that our work is just about finished.
Since 'Charley's" work product is delivered first, 'Clucky' and "Flower Stuff" run in and check the work, and if they approve cautiously see ifthey can use "Charley's" product. THen, as they realize their own products are being delivered, they are constantly underfoot, slowing the delivery of their own end products. A little bit of chaos ensues as they check to be sure that the other's product isnt preferable (it NEVER is, but they check anyway) and then they settle in, accepting their own product.
I suppose then its time for our coffee break as we finally have the bosses off our backs!
One final note lest you think that this is as simple a process as it should be. Our feeding routine is complex and requires a deft touch, for nothing in our household is done the easy way. It involves 5 feeding bowls, two types of food (wet and dry) three flavors - two of which must vary every day and cant be the same, one voracious mouth that will eat only one thing but goes at it full force, one voracious mouth that will eat anything as long as its seafood IN GRAVY and isnt the same as the last time, and one who is terribly skinny and while acting hungry doesnt seem to want much of anything. We also have to make sure that there isnt fighting and that "Charley" lets others eat their fill before he eats their food too. For the most part, Charley doesnt allow food to sit around and be munched on throughout the day. In fact, he likes his wet food best and eats it immediately, and protects it. When he finishes, he then goes and checks to see if anything is left ot the others foods, sometimes waiting for them (or most likely us) to get out of the way. He will then eat their leftovers, and eat their dry food first, saving his dry food for after he finishes theirs. While they all act like the three little piggies before a meal, only 'Charley' and Clucky' eat their food like there is no tomorrow, and only 'Charley' keeps at it until its all gone.
So even in retirement we are just like you with bad, untrained supervisors getting in our way as we try to do the right thing for them. But at least we love our little supervisors...
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Feeding Frenzy
Of all the times of the day, first thing in the morning is when Im at my worst. Its been like this for a long time, and I have tried to take measures to limit exposure to me from other folks until I am steady on my feet. Ive (more than once) taken a scoop of coffee intended for the coffee maker and put it in the dog dish, then spent a minute or so just looking at it, realizing that something is wrong, but not being able to figure out what. While I may have wasted coffee and dog food, at least it never got to the point that the dog had the option of eating it, and I never did go so far as to put pet food in the coffee pot....yet.
All this is to give you an idea as to the challanges that face me in the morning when Marley gets me up, and Ive managed to get through a constantly swirling mass of cat bodies to the kitchen where they expect to be fed RIGHT NOW. Its gotten worse recently since they have started changing the whole food ritual, and I dont do well with change at that hour of the morning.
It all started out with Marley, who was kind enough to have well established rules for food, and these rules didnt change. I did pretty well with that. Marleys only real variable was when he wanted to eat as related to when I wanted to feed him. His rule was inviolate - he ALWAYS wanted to eat. He would undertake strategies sometimes to trick me into feeding him early, and harass me for food constantly, but the habit became ingrained and I didnt have too much difficulty. Marley's actual canned food preferences were pretty simple: it had to be seafood of some sort, and it had to be in gravy (not sauce, not just meat, not pate). You could count on the fact that if the can said something that was just seafood and had the words "in Gravy" on the label he would eat it like a vacuum cleaner and hope for more. He would also get a small amout of dry food, and that again could not vary by brand, flavor or consistency.
So in come our new cats, and my blurry early morning world fell apart. Lucky and Powder Puff were both pretty emaciated looking, and Lucky acted in accordance with that view - he made Marley look like a slow eater, and has become the most consistent of the eaters. Put a dish of dry food in front of him and hes off to the races. If you were to ask me what would be a good sound to describe his eating process Id say a chain saw. And he is my favorite, because thats all he wants and he is as happy as a clam. In fact, sometimes he goes over to Powder Puffs bowl and take a whiff which makes him put on a disgusted face and immediately try to bury her food. He does have one quirk, but since it isnt in the morning, Im not worried. If he can get at chicken or turkey destined for people, he will go right after it - raw or cooked. We have to keep a wary eye out for him during dinner preparation, but Im better prepared to handle this at that hour. Lucky has responded well to his food, is strong and no longer looks emaciated
Powder Puff has presented a little more of a challange. She doesnt eat much. Like Marley, she also likes gravy, although at first she would only eat the gravy. Weve tried the pates the sauces, etc, and she likes in gravy the best. Her appitite has improved somewhat, but it isnt consistent, and as you will see, I still dont have it right.
We started her with just dry food like Lucky, and she would eat a little, then leave, after which at some point one of the boys would polish off her food. She would then ask for more on occasision, but we learned that most of any more would end up being eaten by the bottomless pits that are her brothers. So we settled into a routine with a little canned food and a little dry food. The key phrase here is "settle into a routine" because at that point I can deal with it. But it wasnt to be. Some days she polishes off all of her canned food, some days nothing but the gravy, and it doesnt appear to relate to what is in the can.
One blessing we have is that there isnt any fighting over food in the house. The one constant is the dry food, which they all eat, but in separate bowls, something I started when the other cats were new, and we didnt know how Marley would handle this.
So last week Powder Puff does the unthinkable. When I put down Marleys canned food, she immediately goes to it, and despite the fact that it is seafood, eats greedily. Marley and I are both staring with our mouths open, and Lucky is wondering where his food is. Finally Marley settles in and begins to eat his dry food, something he has never done first. I finish putting down the rest of the food but my morning tranquility is shattered. we havent had a repeat of this, but instead, Marley has started eating her canned food leftovers, something you couldnt have forced him to eat a few months ago.
There are a whole series of these dynamics which are evolving and serve to make my early mornings more difficult. Lucky is challanging Marley for the "power Position" on the pass through where they can watch to make sure I am preparing their food; Marley has learned that if he eats his canned food, he can then cautiously go to the other cats food and eat their dry food while saving his dry food for last, etc, and all the while I have to be sure that Powder Puff is getting enough to eat without letting the boys go hog wild on any food she leaves.
Regardless, its too early for me to deal with appropriately. As long as I keep the pet food out of the coffee I guess I can deal with it though...
All this is to give you an idea as to the challanges that face me in the morning when Marley gets me up, and Ive managed to get through a constantly swirling mass of cat bodies to the kitchen where they expect to be fed RIGHT NOW. Its gotten worse recently since they have started changing the whole food ritual, and I dont do well with change at that hour of the morning.
It all started out with Marley, who was kind enough to have well established rules for food, and these rules didnt change. I did pretty well with that. Marleys only real variable was when he wanted to eat as related to when I wanted to feed him. His rule was inviolate - he ALWAYS wanted to eat. He would undertake strategies sometimes to trick me into feeding him early, and harass me for food constantly, but the habit became ingrained and I didnt have too much difficulty. Marley's actual canned food preferences were pretty simple: it had to be seafood of some sort, and it had to be in gravy (not sauce, not just meat, not pate). You could count on the fact that if the can said something that was just seafood and had the words "in Gravy" on the label he would eat it like a vacuum cleaner and hope for more. He would also get a small amout of dry food, and that again could not vary by brand, flavor or consistency.
So in come our new cats, and my blurry early morning world fell apart. Lucky and Powder Puff were both pretty emaciated looking, and Lucky acted in accordance with that view - he made Marley look like a slow eater, and has become the most consistent of the eaters. Put a dish of dry food in front of him and hes off to the races. If you were to ask me what would be a good sound to describe his eating process Id say a chain saw. And he is my favorite, because thats all he wants and he is as happy as a clam. In fact, sometimes he goes over to Powder Puffs bowl and take a whiff which makes him put on a disgusted face and immediately try to bury her food. He does have one quirk, but since it isnt in the morning, Im not worried. If he can get at chicken or turkey destined for people, he will go right after it - raw or cooked. We have to keep a wary eye out for him during dinner preparation, but Im better prepared to handle this at that hour. Lucky has responded well to his food, is strong and no longer looks emaciated
Powder Puff has presented a little more of a challange. She doesnt eat much. Like Marley, she also likes gravy, although at first she would only eat the gravy. Weve tried the pates the sauces, etc, and she likes in gravy the best. Her appitite has improved somewhat, but it isnt consistent, and as you will see, I still dont have it right.
We started her with just dry food like Lucky, and she would eat a little, then leave, after which at some point one of the boys would polish off her food. She would then ask for more on occasision, but we learned that most of any more would end up being eaten by the bottomless pits that are her brothers. So we settled into a routine with a little canned food and a little dry food. The key phrase here is "settle into a routine" because at that point I can deal with it. But it wasnt to be. Some days she polishes off all of her canned food, some days nothing but the gravy, and it doesnt appear to relate to what is in the can.
One blessing we have is that there isnt any fighting over food in the house. The one constant is the dry food, which they all eat, but in separate bowls, something I started when the other cats were new, and we didnt know how Marley would handle this.
So last week Powder Puff does the unthinkable. When I put down Marleys canned food, she immediately goes to it, and despite the fact that it is seafood, eats greedily. Marley and I are both staring with our mouths open, and Lucky is wondering where his food is. Finally Marley settles in and begins to eat his dry food, something he has never done first. I finish putting down the rest of the food but my morning tranquility is shattered. we havent had a repeat of this, but instead, Marley has started eating her canned food leftovers, something you couldnt have forced him to eat a few months ago.
There are a whole series of these dynamics which are evolving and serve to make my early mornings more difficult. Lucky is challanging Marley for the "power Position" on the pass through where they can watch to make sure I am preparing their food; Marley has learned that if he eats his canned food, he can then cautiously go to the other cats food and eat their dry food while saving his dry food for last, etc, and all the while I have to be sure that Powder Puff is getting enough to eat without letting the boys go hog wild on any food she leaves.
Regardless, its too early for me to deal with appropriately. As long as I keep the pet food out of the coffee I guess I can deal with it though...
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Screams from the Examining Room
Let me get it over with ... Marley hated his visit to the vet, and made sure everybody in a 4 block radius knew about it. Our two stray cats dont like trips to the vet, but are compliant and don't make a fuss. Marley more than made up for the both of them.
And the thing that gets me is that EVERYBODY tried to make it nice for him. He was "just" there to get checked for feline leukemia and to get a vaccination. I'll tell you one thing, from the sounds emanating from that room, people outside must have been picturing that cartoon cat who has his paw in an electrical outlet with his fur standing up and all four legs extended while he shrieked.
Marley hates getting in the crate, and complained all the way to the vets. He was quiet in the waiting room, but then he wouldn't come out when we went into the examining room. The assistant foolishly tried to drag him out but had to give up. So I reached in, and by tilting the crate was able to slide him down and out. So I scooped him up to give him fatherly comfort. He immediately started growling. The assistant tried to give him the "nice kitty" pet and so Marley stood back, hissed loudly and swatted at her. She wisely retreated, and we considered alternatives while we listened to Marley growling like a 60's era high performance race car with no muffler.
We were beginning to suspect that there may be a problem. The assistant very professionally explained to us that this sort of thing happens, but that they handle it, and although it may get a little distressing to us, we shouldn't worry because cats sometimes get like this. As she comes a little closer while explaining that I should be careful as to how I hold him because cat bites aren't good, Marley sits up, hisses, bites me in the hand (luckily he was just sane enough to realize it was me and barely broke the skin) then swatted and hissed again.
The vet walks in and stops. Clearly this guy is a veteran because he knows somethings up. He asks if we think Marley will allow him to do a little exam, and we tell him that we seriously doubt it. So the plan is to give him an injection that will knock him pretty much out in just a few minutes and can be reversed just as quickly. We all agree this is best.
There is, of course, the little matter of getting the injection in ... and I'm just hoping the vet doesn't ask me to do it. Everybody is looking like they feel the same way. The vet goes to get the shot, and the assistant, still looking professional although perhaps a little pale, explains that she will put a towel over Marley and hold him down while the vet gives the shot. We shouldn't worry even though it might seem a little severe. Mary Ann and I look at each other in a way that says "do you think this is as unlikely to work as I do?" But we get ready.
I'm still holding Marley when the vet returns with a professional smile on his face and a needle in his hand. Its time for the pros to go to work, so the assistant closes in with the towel and clamps down on Marley, I quickly add my hands to help, and the vet moves in towards what has now become a writhing, snarling, howling towel-wrapped devil. The vet courageously moves in, someone bares Marley's hindquarters, and the Vet sticks the needle in.
To actually grasp what happens next, you must take a few minutes to remember the most scary scenes from the Exorcist. As the needle goes in, Marley s shrieks grew from the strength of a human adult yelling to something from the bowels of hell. It was so loud that I'd swear that the window glass rattled, and at the same moment suddenly all four of us were thrown back as the tornado under the towel unleashed his true force, then used this moment to levitate out from under the towel and fly to the floor where in a shower of hisses and snarls, he ran under a bench affixed to the wall.
We all looked at each other. The vet wiped sweat from his brow, and with a forlorn look explained that he hadn't been able to get the shot in. I felt like I was going to cry.
The assistant moved around the table and towards the noises coming from under the bench. She tried to move in with the towel, but Marley was having none of it. He had found the one hard-to-get at-me place in the room, and he was prepared to defend himself. As she moved in, he was hissing like a deranged steam locomotive, and his paws were swatting so fast they could hardly be seen. If you've ever seen a martial arts movie where the fighters supposedly move their limbs so fast that the air whistles, you will know what I mean when I tell you we heard the real thing.
The vet thinks for a moment, and suggests that we push his crate under one end of the bench to force him out the other and block his retreat back there, but the crate wont fit and its looking pretty dangerous to get within a crates length of him anyway. The vet then looks at the amount of serum in the needle, and decides that he doesn't have enough and tells us he will be right back. The assistant explains to us that they may need to use a special device to help restrain him that they occasionally have to use. I'm thinking they might actually need the Marines, or perhaps artillery.
As the vet walks back in, the assistant kind of quietly says something to him like "should we use the green net... I explained to them about it." But the vet has a different plan. He has brought a classic piece of technology specifically used to flush out a cat. Its called a broom. So the assistant gets positioned at one end of the bench with the towel (no, I cant explain the confidence they have in a towel) and the vet, using all of the veterinary skills he learned at school, goes in with the broom from the other end.
Marley is pushed to the far end, and although its hard to hear anything with his screams, he puts up a good fight, but cant seem to cause much damage to the broom bristles with his claws, teeth and hissing, and is eventually pushed out the other end of the bench. You will pardon the expression if I say that the assistant put the towel on him and POUNCED, holding him down with all her might. He writhed and thrashed and loudly complained but she had him. The Vet was no longer explaining and showing where the needle would go - he just pushed it right through the towel into Marley, gave him a high decibel inducing injection, and both the vet and the assistant backed off. Marley immediately quieted since he was obviously effectively hidden - he couldn't see anyone and no one was touching him.
If he wasn't moving, none of us wanted to bother him. The vet said he would be back in a few minutes, and in the meantime, we should not do anything to excite him while the shot took effect. Mary Ann and I sat down on the bench, both relieved that we wouldn't have to risk ourselves by checking under the towel.
The rest of the visit is a little anticlimactic. Despite the fact that there was no movement under the towel except for breathing, everyone agreed that we should give him a little extra time to go under. In the 5 or so minutes that took place after the shot, a magical transformation took place because when they pulled off the blanket that crazy monster had turned into our sweet little Marley, eyes open but completely zonked out. When they picked him up off the floor, what had looked like a little vomit from the trauma turned out to be a giant pile of vomit that he zonked into and had to get cleaned up a bit.
At that point, he wasn't complaining, so he got his full physical in addition to the specifics we had him there for. When all was done, the vet gave him another shot, poured him back into his crate and we waited for him to wake back up outside. This also took only a few minutes, and he was calm but awake and moving by the time the results came in.
So we made it through the visit, and I only have one scar, and it didn't bleed much at all, even less than the one the assistant got. And I wouldn't have been surprised to see a line "hazardous duty pay" on the bill, but there wasn't one. The vet did say that we should bring him back within 6 months to get his teeth cleaned.
I'll bet that the vet will be watching for an appointment to be made so he can put in for a vacation day!
And the thing that gets me is that EVERYBODY tried to make it nice for him. He was "just" there to get checked for feline leukemia and to get a vaccination. I'll tell you one thing, from the sounds emanating from that room, people outside must have been picturing that cartoon cat who has his paw in an electrical outlet with his fur standing up and all four legs extended while he shrieked.
Marley hates getting in the crate, and complained all the way to the vets. He was quiet in the waiting room, but then he wouldn't come out when we went into the examining room. The assistant foolishly tried to drag him out but had to give up. So I reached in, and by tilting the crate was able to slide him down and out. So I scooped him up to give him fatherly comfort. He immediately started growling. The assistant tried to give him the "nice kitty" pet and so Marley stood back, hissed loudly and swatted at her. She wisely retreated, and we considered alternatives while we listened to Marley growling like a 60's era high performance race car with no muffler.
We were beginning to suspect that there may be a problem. The assistant very professionally explained to us that this sort of thing happens, but that they handle it, and although it may get a little distressing to us, we shouldn't worry because cats sometimes get like this. As she comes a little closer while explaining that I should be careful as to how I hold him because cat bites aren't good, Marley sits up, hisses, bites me in the hand (luckily he was just sane enough to realize it was me and barely broke the skin) then swatted and hissed again.
The vet walks in and stops. Clearly this guy is a veteran because he knows somethings up. He asks if we think Marley will allow him to do a little exam, and we tell him that we seriously doubt it. So the plan is to give him an injection that will knock him pretty much out in just a few minutes and can be reversed just as quickly. We all agree this is best.
There is, of course, the little matter of getting the injection in ... and I'm just hoping the vet doesn't ask me to do it. Everybody is looking like they feel the same way. The vet goes to get the shot, and the assistant, still looking professional although perhaps a little pale, explains that she will put a towel over Marley and hold him down while the vet gives the shot. We shouldn't worry even though it might seem a little severe. Mary Ann and I look at each other in a way that says "do you think this is as unlikely to work as I do?" But we get ready.
I'm still holding Marley when the vet returns with a professional smile on his face and a needle in his hand. Its time for the pros to go to work, so the assistant closes in with the towel and clamps down on Marley, I quickly add my hands to help, and the vet moves in towards what has now become a writhing, snarling, howling towel-wrapped devil. The vet courageously moves in, someone bares Marley's hindquarters, and the Vet sticks the needle in.
To actually grasp what happens next, you must take a few minutes to remember the most scary scenes from the Exorcist. As the needle goes in, Marley s shrieks grew from the strength of a human adult yelling to something from the bowels of hell. It was so loud that I'd swear that the window glass rattled, and at the same moment suddenly all four of us were thrown back as the tornado under the towel unleashed his true force, then used this moment to levitate out from under the towel and fly to the floor where in a shower of hisses and snarls, he ran under a bench affixed to the wall.
We all looked at each other. The vet wiped sweat from his brow, and with a forlorn look explained that he hadn't been able to get the shot in. I felt like I was going to cry.
The assistant moved around the table and towards the noises coming from under the bench. She tried to move in with the towel, but Marley was having none of it. He had found the one hard-to-get at-me place in the room, and he was prepared to defend himself. As she moved in, he was hissing like a deranged steam locomotive, and his paws were swatting so fast they could hardly be seen. If you've ever seen a martial arts movie where the fighters supposedly move their limbs so fast that the air whistles, you will know what I mean when I tell you we heard the real thing.
The vet thinks for a moment, and suggests that we push his crate under one end of the bench to force him out the other and block his retreat back there, but the crate wont fit and its looking pretty dangerous to get within a crates length of him anyway. The vet then looks at the amount of serum in the needle, and decides that he doesn't have enough and tells us he will be right back. The assistant explains to us that they may need to use a special device to help restrain him that they occasionally have to use. I'm thinking they might actually need the Marines, or perhaps artillery.
As the vet walks back in, the assistant kind of quietly says something to him like "should we use the green net... I explained to them about it." But the vet has a different plan. He has brought a classic piece of technology specifically used to flush out a cat. Its called a broom. So the assistant gets positioned at one end of the bench with the towel (no, I cant explain the confidence they have in a towel) and the vet, using all of the veterinary skills he learned at school, goes in with the broom from the other end.
Marley is pushed to the far end, and although its hard to hear anything with his screams, he puts up a good fight, but cant seem to cause much damage to the broom bristles with his claws, teeth and hissing, and is eventually pushed out the other end of the bench. You will pardon the expression if I say that the assistant put the towel on him and POUNCED, holding him down with all her might. He writhed and thrashed and loudly complained but she had him. The Vet was no longer explaining and showing where the needle would go - he just pushed it right through the towel into Marley, gave him a high decibel inducing injection, and both the vet and the assistant backed off. Marley immediately quieted since he was obviously effectively hidden - he couldn't see anyone and no one was touching him.
If he wasn't moving, none of us wanted to bother him. The vet said he would be back in a few minutes, and in the meantime, we should not do anything to excite him while the shot took effect. Mary Ann and I sat down on the bench, both relieved that we wouldn't have to risk ourselves by checking under the towel.
The rest of the visit is a little anticlimactic. Despite the fact that there was no movement under the towel except for breathing, everyone agreed that we should give him a little extra time to go under. In the 5 or so minutes that took place after the shot, a magical transformation took place because when they pulled off the blanket that crazy monster had turned into our sweet little Marley, eyes open but completely zonked out. When they picked him up off the floor, what had looked like a little vomit from the trauma turned out to be a giant pile of vomit that he zonked into and had to get cleaned up a bit.
At that point, he wasn't complaining, so he got his full physical in addition to the specifics we had him there for. When all was done, the vet gave him another shot, poured him back into his crate and we waited for him to wake back up outside. This also took only a few minutes, and he was calm but awake and moving by the time the results came in.
So we made it through the visit, and I only have one scar, and it didn't bleed much at all, even less than the one the assistant got. And I wouldn't have been surprised to see a line "hazardous duty pay" on the bill, but there wasn't one. The vet did say that we should bring him back within 6 months to get his teeth cleaned.
I'll bet that the vet will be watching for an appointment to be made so he can put in for a vacation day!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Indignities
It seems like one of the situations that caused a number of indignities is finally over at our house. I'm speaking of out and out harassment of anyone using the litter box. For some reason since our adoptive cats entered the scene, the litter box has been a scene of constant drama.
If the cats saw another go into the litter box, or if they even heard the scratching that goes on in there, they would immediately respond. At first it seemed to be just curiosity and they would put their heads in and see what was going on, but that didnt last long. The cats recognized that the user was essentially trapped, and was a great target. Sometimes this meant just standing and staring at them from outside. Often it meant hiding out of sight and startling the user when they exited. Sometimes it meant standing outside and batting at the user while they were about their business.
All of these strategies had their effect, and the users began to adopt methods to minimize their risks. Using the box in quiet times, especially when the others were dozing, was probably the most effective. Sometimes they would use the box and keep their head sticking out to watch for impending attacks. Most of the time after they finished they would look around for anyone lying in wait, and even if they didnt see anything, they would dash out and around to be sure they didn't get attacked. In the meantime all this made any use of the litter box a nervous, and sometimes traumatic experience.
Thankfully, this seems to have come to an end, perhaps because we let them all out on occasion so they work off more energy. I haven't seen this much bathroom drama since we had teenagers in the house...
If the cats saw another go into the litter box, or if they even heard the scratching that goes on in there, they would immediately respond. At first it seemed to be just curiosity and they would put their heads in and see what was going on, but that didnt last long. The cats recognized that the user was essentially trapped, and was a great target. Sometimes this meant just standing and staring at them from outside. Often it meant hiding out of sight and startling the user when they exited. Sometimes it meant standing outside and batting at the user while they were about their business.
All of these strategies had their effect, and the users began to adopt methods to minimize their risks. Using the box in quiet times, especially when the others were dozing, was probably the most effective. Sometimes they would use the box and keep their head sticking out to watch for impending attacks. Most of the time after they finished they would look around for anyone lying in wait, and even if they didnt see anything, they would dash out and around to be sure they didn't get attacked. In the meantime all this made any use of the litter box a nervous, and sometimes traumatic experience.
Thankfully, this seems to have come to an end, perhaps because we let them all out on occasion so they work off more energy. I haven't seen this much bathroom drama since we had teenagers in the house...
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Preying Pets
Today was an interesting day. While the plumber was working on our bathtub, having opened a big hole in the wall, Lucky came to the door holding a bird in his mouth. After he stood for a few minutes, he realized he cant bring his prey into the house, so he went to the side of the door and dropped the bird by the bushes. Suddenly it came to me - he always is in that area - it must be where he keeps his serial killing trophies. This time he was foiled though. Mary Ann retreived the bird and it was alive and responsive. We took it to a woman who does rescue stuff, and she thinks that the bird is okay, but has lost most of his wing feathers as a result of Lucky pouncing on his wings and holding him down. So the bird is off our hands. On the way back, we saw that one of her neighbors has a zebra grazing in their front yard.
After the initial hoopala was over, and the plumber and I are walking back to the hole in the wall by the tub, Marley sticks his head out of the hole having apparently concluded his investigation. When we got him out, he was covered with dust and other debris.
In the meantime, after having gotten his bird, and shown Mary Ann where it was, Lucky was so impressed with himself that he sprinted in circles around the back yard in a clear display of what a magnificant hunter he is. Lucky is now sleeping it off in the corner. Maybe Im imagining it, but I think his head has gotten a little bigger. I thought I should probably keep track of this since it seems to be a therme, so here is a table of the cat activities (we know about) since coming here:
Successful Hunts ......Marley......Lucky......Powder Puff
(note - we dont condone this, but we cant stop it either)
Birds .............................0...............1.................0
Geckos...........................0...............5.................2
Rats...............................0...............0.................1
Snakes...........................0...............1.................0
Insects (est) .............500.............10.................1
Will keep you up on this...
chip
After the initial hoopala was over, and the plumber and I are walking back to the hole in the wall by the tub, Marley sticks his head out of the hole having apparently concluded his investigation. When we got him out, he was covered with dust and other debris.
In the meantime, after having gotten his bird, and shown Mary Ann where it was, Lucky was so impressed with himself that he sprinted in circles around the back yard in a clear display of what a magnificant hunter he is. Lucky is now sleeping it off in the corner. Maybe Im imagining it, but I think his head has gotten a little bigger. I thought I should probably keep track of this since it seems to be a therme, so here is a table of the cat activities (we know about) since coming here:
Successful Hunts ......Marley......Lucky......Powder Puff
(note - we dont condone this, but we cant stop it either)
Birds .............................0...............1.................0
Geckos...........................0...............5.................2
Rats...............................0...............0.................1
Snakes...........................0...............1.................0
Insects (est) .............500.............10.................1
Will keep you up on this...
chip
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