A Cat and a Cockerel

There’s an old guy that follows me around and he isn’t my husband.

There’s a young guy that follows me around and he isn’t my son but

both creatures have that special quality to attract all the spoiling I can give them.

The cat is eighteen years old and until almost a year ago was as spry as ever. Unfortunately he found trouble outside one night and was viciously attacked by an unknown assailant. When I saw him in the early morning of the next day, a Sunday of course, just to complicate matters, I knew he could easily have died from shock and blood loss. So he spent a couple of critical days at the vets where they did everything possible for great sums of money to comfort him and clean up his very deep wounds, but he was so traumatized and he never has gone back to his old self completely. At first the trauma of the ordeal kept him in the house mostly and since he was on medications, a quiet few days was needed to build up his strength. That’s when he started using an antique box that we keep pinecones in (for the fire) as his potty. In time he went outside and he used his regular toilet facility, wherever that is on all this acreage. But his friendly persona (catsona?) was replaced by a fearful, almost doddering animal and he became hyper aggressive to our other cats. His fur remained matted for this whole time and was impossible to clean or comb and in sympathy for what it must have felt like to sleep on all those furry lumps, I treated him to a complete hairdo makeover at the vets. Of course this would have been traumatic too, so he was anesthetized again so the handler wouldn’t be clawed to death during the process. And now we can hardly see where he was shaven as it has all grown back and is fluffy, the way it always was before the attack. During all this time I’ve tried to give him as much love as I can muster, which is quite a lot, to make up for what he has gone through and to help bring out his natural self that has faded away. This has worked to a great degree and he’s nicer to the other animals but no longer engages in rough horseplay with our young male, Domino, and still lashes out unexpectedly with the other feline too. When Ginger girl, Domino’s mother, just tries to snuggle up to him, he may be receptive or not, which is so unlike the way he used to be with her. Aside from that he’s also a bit senile and often he just stares at me vacantly, just like some oldies I know. And the most telling of all is that he wants to sit on us at all times of the day or night when he locates where we are. Sometimes we oblige him but often we’re busy and can’t carry him around or sit in a chair with him on our laps endlessly, just to make him feel secure. So there’s a fine balance. I love him when I see him, cuddle him, talk sweetly to him, take walks with him because we both need the exercise and carry him all the way back downhill. He’s had some medical issues so I’ve been giving him medicine he hates for years but I’ve finally got the hang of giving him a small round pill. The trick is to have him sitting on a high enough surface and then holding him firmly but gently, putting his head back far enough that the pill drops into the back of his throat, and I keep his head back until he swallows it. Then it’s simple to shove the syringe of fluid meds into the corner of his mouth and discharge it although sometimes it dribbles onto his chest if he moves his head away from me. But it mostly works.

Shaq and I are still friends even though I have to do these awful things to him every day. But I make it fun, as John says, by distracting him with cuddles when I plan on attacking him. But my voice is soft and I’m laughing softly and that always confuses him. So he relaxes a bit and I charge.

We lost his sister, Kobe, almost two years ago now but I’ve had cats that have lived into their early 20s in people years. So my plan is to nurture him when I can and hopefully find a caring housesitter that will stay here for many long weeks when we travel back to the States, for I would never board him for an extended stay. He’d just be miserable. They all would. We have a paradise here for these animals. Maybe that’s why Shaq, even in his later years, brings in a mouse every night, but then that’s another story.

Yesterday afternoon, while I was picking some cherry tomatoes planted just in front of the front wall of our cottage I took a picture of the lot that I left on the vine to ripen more.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a black thing about 15 feet away and on closer inspection realized that it was Shaq. He had found an old metal bucket filled with dirt that previously held a large coriander plant that was growing in it. Shaq was fast asleep on top of the bucket on the warm soil next to a sunny wall and there he stayed for a long nap. All I could see was a furry black blob with a tiny white paw sticking out. Today things changed around here as I’m planning on replanting the plot in front of that bucket, which John moved a few feet away and stuck pointy bits of metal in the top. So when Shaq approached the area where he napped, he actually took a double take and then looked at me as if I’d explain where the bucket was. But he persisted anyway and slept on the ground in that space, kicking up lots of dirt and then getting it all over his fluffy black coat. But I’ll move it back for him tomorrow and take that metal thing out of it. I don’t really know how long he’s got and it’s no big deal for me to skip the planting of that particular bucket this season. All I know is that we’re lucky to have this special guy living here and time has a habit of marching on.

Meanwhile, the rooster, who I’ve just named Ray, is kind of similar to Shaq… he’s gorgeous, smart and calm and he follows me around because I feed him extra seed since he seems to need it. When I speak to him he cocks his head like he understands and then follows me wherever I’m going. Usually by this time I’m heading straight for the wheat seeds. The other day I was pruning and replanting some old pots on a large rustic table with huge throne-like high backed chairs around it. So this Ray character was watching me from the grass nearby and then while I was looking at him and probably chatting quietly to him, he jumped up on one of the big chairs and stared at me intently, staying there for at least a few minutes. Maybe this is one of my relatives that passed over for all I know, but it’s not creepy. It’s wonderful actually. We were communing, which I understand is easiest when the animal and the human are at the same eye level, sort of like animal whisperers but close to the ground.

 

I know I am a tad eccentric and off the wall at times but these critters keep me company through the high times and the low times and they never expect more than a bit of food and a lot of love and I can give that to them and more. Animals have always held a special place in my heart. They resonate with me…except of course at 3 a.m. when I’m yelling at them to take it outside (and not eat it on the rug next to the bed crunching for 10 minutes with great gusto). When I was growing up we couldn’t have dogs or cats and I felt very deprived, but I’ve made up for that big time in my adult life. But then, they give us so much back, that

it’s all worth it.