A “Clowder” of Purrr-sonalities~3

Posted on January 16, 2014January 16, 2014 by Dusty Roads

Once Rocky settled in life was never calm again. I still didn’t fully trust Little Joe with Rocky. Little Joe was just too big and Rocky was so tiny. But like a mosquito buzzing your head, Rocky loved to torment and torture his oversized mentor. It was my first real exposure to how different personalities can be between cats.

Little Joe was typically Persian. A couch potato, he didn’t play much, tired easily (or got bored) and was happiest just sleeping. When I took him to get pictures he was just a lump. The photographer could do anything with him and he’d put up with it. Petco used him for training for their new photographers. I got loads of discounted pictures and learned a lot from those sessions.

Rocky was the exact opposite. He was in perpetual motion and into everything. Where Little Joe couldn’t be bothered to try to escape if you locked him up, Rocky made it his mission. His paw would scoot under the door or the door knob would rattle. He’s just keep working it until he got it and came strutting out to say. I’m heeere.

Rocky is also a Pica Cat. I’d never heard of a pica cat before. Pica is a disorder characterized by an appetite for substances largely non-nutritive. In Rocky’s case it’s plastic. Not the hard plastic that bowls and toys are made of but plastic bags or the plastic wrap that comes on magazines, even packing tape plastic. Do you know how many things we use daily that are made of this soft plastic!?

I soon learned to throw those things away or put them in a drawer that he couldn’t open. The biggest scare of my life was when I heard Rocky coughing one morning.

At first I only paid a little attention thinking I’d have a mess to clean up. After all, cats throw up. They throw up hairballs and they eat too fast and throw up half digested food. Sometimes they can get sick if the food is too rich (it’s why you don’t give them table scraps) but this sounded different.

Just as I was about to go check it out Rocky staggered into the living room. He looked at me, his eyes rolled back and he fell on his side. I was frantic. On my knees by his side I thought I’d have to do kitty CPR but as I turned his little body over I saw a piece of plastic in the corner of his mouth. I grabbed it and pulled. As soon as it came out his little body gave a shudder and his sides heaved. A big breath in and out and he was back on his feet like nothing had happened.

To this day I do not know where he found the plastic to chew on. I assume he was chewing away and it covered his windpipe. If I hadn’t been right there he would have suffocated. You’d think that would have taught him a lesson but it hasn’t. I still have to be sure the house is plastic proof all the time!

A “Clowder” of Purrr-sonalities – Chapter 2

Posted on January 15, 2014January 15, 2014 by Dusty Roads

Rocky was named after the Rocky Balboa character.

He was a feral kitten who should have been scared of humans. The neighbor kid had found a nest of kittens and taken the “orange” kitten to play with him. When he went to return him, the mama cat had moved the rest of her litter.

When I found the kid he was using the kitten as a literal “fur ball” throwing the kitten in the air and trying to catch him when he came back down. When I came yelling and screeching the kid threw the kitten in a grocery cart, bounced the cart a few times to see the kitten juggle around and then took off running. The kitten , who would become “Rocky” was so tiny that he fell through the wire bottom of the cart.

I thought oh oh, he’ll head for the woods now but instead he picked himself up, shook his head and with that little kitten waddle, made a bee line for me.

The kitten’s eyes were runny and swollen, obviously infected and who knew if he had injuries from his treatment by the kid. At the vet’s office they refused to treat him unless I named him. Under pressure like that I couldn’t think of anything cute or original. All I could think of was that the kitten didn’t have any more sense than Rocky did in the movie by the same name. Yeah, Rocky got beat up, knocked down but he wouldn’t stay down. He got right back up and in the end, bruised and bashed up, he won. So this little resilient kitten became “Rocky”.

I still planned to take him to the shelter. Little Joe never accepted other cats. So I put the now treated kitten in the spare room for the weekend. The first day was fine. I’d go into the room to spend time with him. As soon as I called “Rocky” he’d come toddling out from where ever he was hiding. The vet was surprised that he was eating solid food. They thought he was too young to be weaned but he didn’t seem to have any problem eating the canned food I was offering. He was so tiny and cute.

This was when I first learned what a great escape artist Rocky would turn out to be. Coming back from an errand I saw the door open to the spare room. My heart dropped. I was sure I’d find his bloody little body shredded somewhere.

Was I ever surprised when I found a black and white Persian cuddled up with a tiny orange kitten on the couch.

Rocky had found a home…fur-ever.

It’s A Furry, Furry World

Posted on July 29, 2013July 29, 2013 by Dusty Roads

It’s been quite awhile since I updated everyone on my 3 cat home life. What brought it to mind was the chaos being reaped this morning. I heard a series of loud bumps and bangs and then a horrible crash. No sleeping in this morning! (For me anyway)

I dashed into the living room to see what had been destroyed this time only to see 3 innocent looking faces staring at me. No one was at war, everyone sitting calmly. Hmmmm maybe a bit toooo calmly.

As I began to get their breakfast together I began to see the signs. My electric fry pan that lives on my counter when not in use was still on the counter, but it hung precariously.

The small cat tree that arrived with Buddy was tipped over.

OK nothing broken. I fed them breakfast, refreshed the water and headed in to clean the kitty litter. My life revolves around mundane kitty chores before I can take my shower and have my breakfast.

Before I even started the first scoop a cat ran between my legs, nearly tripping me and bolted back toward the living room…Buddy. Right on his heels came an orange streak that nearly bowled me over….Rocky! Up over the back of the couch, a leap past the TV and the 2 raced to the dining room where Rocky bolted to the top of the china cabinet. Buddy wisely refused to try !

A few minutes later Rocky jumped down with a thud and the two crazy cats plopped down in the middle of the floor to groom.

Back to the chores I went. Then into the shower.

When I stepped out dripping wet there was Buddy making himself at home on my clean towel. Although I got him off the towel he wasn’t leaving. This cat is addicted to the hair dryer. In his little kitty mind he’s figure out that shower = hair dryer. So another ritual has been born. I just can’t take a picture when I have the hair dryer in my hands.

Finally I’m ready to sit down to my breakfast. So that means it’s time for Smokey to get in the act. His “thing” is to sit and stare at me as I try to enjoy breakfast. It’s his hope that I’ll drop something he can grab.

With the hot weather we’ve been having Smokey is a walking fur factory. He leaves a trail of kitty fur where ever he goes. Constant vacuuming (the rug)and brushing (his hair) has not seemed to make much of a difference.

Smokey is the referee. Buddy and Rocky get into some major tussles and if they get out of hand the clawless wonder (Smokey) jumps in an breaks it up. Hard to believe but the smallest, oldest and the only declawed cat in the household is the one to break up the fights that get out of hand. Give him a striped shirt!

Most of the fights seem to be play fights but every now and then it gets intense. That’s when Smokey jumps in and hits them with his paw! I try not to laugh. But they both pay attention and “stand down”.