Cat community
For complicated reasons, I spent 3 hours yesterday in a small apartment that houses 9 cats (and a rabbit). In fact, my job there was to provide some cuddling, as they had not had that for a while.
As might be expected, these cats had formed their own community. They've known each other for a long time, and two sets of three of them are littermates. I was the intruder-- although the important one with opposable thumbs-- and it was an interesting process to get to know these felines.
I have included their real names on the grounds that they probably wouldn't mind and don't have reputations that can be manipulated anyway.
During the time there, I did verify that yes, there are 9 cats. At some point, I saw all of them, although a couple just for a moment. Berg and Abbey were the bravest and friendliest, both taking turns on my lap. When one slipped off to get food, the other zipped over and claimed the space. I regret that I really only have space for one cat on my body. I should say that their owner's no-cats-on-the-couch rule has pretty much gone by the wayside. Abbey has created her own dent in the easy chair by the window, and most horizontal surfaces are totally coated with fur. I sat on the couch and let them walk all over me and anywhere else they wanted.
Fae came by many times to snuggle around my neck and sniff my head, and even accepted a little petting. Neb showed off his huge, fearful eyes, but somehow got past that raw emotion to receive some petting. Clearly the desire for touch was strong enough to break through the fear barrier.
Elora, I feel, is having a hard time. She's actually the one I saw first when I came in the door, and she never warmed up to me. Growling and hissing, she let me know I was NOT the right person to walk in and start doing things like putting bags of laundry away. She wanted to sniff and sniff and sniff me, but the scent never got familiar. I tried ever so gently petting her, which was OK for a few strokes, but eventually she swatted me so I stopped pushing it. Later, she was willing to sit warily a few feet away from me and even dozed off, so perhaps I was at least downgraded from Extreme Threat to merely Suspicious. Even by the end, she still growled at me on the way out. I was glad she had her 8 companions still-- it seems to be a stressful time for her.
Climber mostly sat on the stairs and watched me. He has an intellectual look. At first his eyes were filled with fear, but later he seemed to have settled into acute observation and even some scientific testing. I noticed him moving down the stairs slowly. At first, he perched up just where the staircase gets a view of downstairs. An hour later, he was about 3 stairs lower. And then he was another stair lower, and actually lying down. He took a lazy nap there, his feet draped over the stair. When he woke up, he began inching toward the place where he could go from the stairs to the back of the couch (where I was sitting). He didn't make it the first time because I looked up at him. But later, when he inched forward again, I was careful to watch only out of the corner of my eye. With great deliberation, he tiptoed off the back of the couch and over my legs to jump down to the floor. He seemed amazed and relieved that it had gone so well. He got some food, and when he went back upstairs, he made great effort to walk all the way around behind the chair in the front window and past the front door, perhaps so he wouldn't have to go right by the couch in plain sight. But overall, he seemed happy to have conducted a few experiments with this new, strange human, and survived to tell about it. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he wrote his own lab report about what happened.
Pip I saw once. I looked up from my book, and he was suddenly there on the stairs, just looking at me. He didn't stay long once he had been noticed, but he didn't have a panicked look in his eyes either. It was more like he was just having a look to see what all the fuss downstairs was about, and once he had seen it, he could go back upstairs.
The other mainly-white one, whose name I've forgotten, also appeared once, or maybe twice. Both times, it was behind Climber on the stairs, sort of peering over his shoulder. That one genuinely looked scared and didn't have any interest in eye contact.
The shadowy black one was the same -- just one appearance near the top of the stairs, and then zipped back to safety. In that one's case, it seemed like appearing was a mistake. He/She thought that because it was quiet, all the humans were probably gone, but NO!! There was still a human there, reading on the couch. Horrors!!!! What a cruel trick, to be quiet, but still be there.
Some folks make broad statements about "cats" as a whole. But anyone who knows cats well knows that they are each totally unique. These 9 offered a rich spectrum on this fascinating visit.
As might be expected, these cats had formed their own community. They've known each other for a long time, and two sets of three of them are littermates. I was the intruder-- although the important one with opposable thumbs-- and it was an interesting process to get to know these felines.
I have included their real names on the grounds that they probably wouldn't mind and don't have reputations that can be manipulated anyway.
During the time there, I did verify that yes, there are 9 cats. At some point, I saw all of them, although a couple just for a moment. Berg and Abbey were the bravest and friendliest, both taking turns on my lap. When one slipped off to get food, the other zipped over and claimed the space. I regret that I really only have space for one cat on my body. I should say that their owner's no-cats-on-the-couch rule has pretty much gone by the wayside. Abbey has created her own dent in the easy chair by the window, and most horizontal surfaces are totally coated with fur. I sat on the couch and let them walk all over me and anywhere else they wanted.
Fae came by many times to snuggle around my neck and sniff my head, and even accepted a little petting. Neb showed off his huge, fearful eyes, but somehow got past that raw emotion to receive some petting. Clearly the desire for touch was strong enough to break through the fear barrier.
Elora, I feel, is having a hard time. She's actually the one I saw first when I came in the door, and she never warmed up to me. Growling and hissing, she let me know I was NOT the right person to walk in and start doing things like putting bags of laundry away. She wanted to sniff and sniff and sniff me, but the scent never got familiar. I tried ever so gently petting her, which was OK for a few strokes, but eventually she swatted me so I stopped pushing it. Later, she was willing to sit warily a few feet away from me and even dozed off, so perhaps I was at least downgraded from Extreme Threat to merely Suspicious. Even by the end, she still growled at me on the way out. I was glad she had her 8 companions still-- it seems to be a stressful time for her.
Climber mostly sat on the stairs and watched me. He has an intellectual look. At first his eyes were filled with fear, but later he seemed to have settled into acute observation and even some scientific testing. I noticed him moving down the stairs slowly. At first, he perched up just where the staircase gets a view of downstairs. An hour later, he was about 3 stairs lower. And then he was another stair lower, and actually lying down. He took a lazy nap there, his feet draped over the stair. When he woke up, he began inching toward the place where he could go from the stairs to the back of the couch (where I was sitting). He didn't make it the first time because I looked up at him. But later, when he inched forward again, I was careful to watch only out of the corner of my eye. With great deliberation, he tiptoed off the back of the couch and over my legs to jump down to the floor. He seemed amazed and relieved that it had gone so well. He got some food, and when he went back upstairs, he made great effort to walk all the way around behind the chair in the front window and past the front door, perhaps so he wouldn't have to go right by the couch in plain sight. But overall, he seemed happy to have conducted a few experiments with this new, strange human, and survived to tell about it. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he wrote his own lab report about what happened.
Pip I saw once. I looked up from my book, and he was suddenly there on the stairs, just looking at me. He didn't stay long once he had been noticed, but he didn't have a panicked look in his eyes either. It was more like he was just having a look to see what all the fuss downstairs was about, and once he had seen it, he could go back upstairs.
The other mainly-white one, whose name I've forgotten, also appeared once, or maybe twice. Both times, it was behind Climber on the stairs, sort of peering over his shoulder. That one genuinely looked scared and didn't have any interest in eye contact.
The shadowy black one was the same -- just one appearance near the top of the stairs, and then zipped back to safety. In that one's case, it seemed like appearing was a mistake. He/She thought that because it was quiet, all the humans were probably gone, but NO!! There was still a human there, reading on the couch. Horrors!!!! What a cruel trick, to be quiet, but still be there.
Some folks make broad statements about "cats" as a whole. But anyone who knows cats well knows that they are each totally unique. These 9 offered a rich spectrum on this fascinating visit.
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