Rufus arrived first. He had a reputation as a very naughty kitten who destroyed Christmas Trees. My partner's sister was at her wits' end and we took him on. My partner did not work and was able to give him the attention he craved. Because of his nature and a change in my circumstances, I had to re-home him last August.
Bertie was next. We got him as a companion for Rufus and his personality, out of all proportion to his size, quickly filled the house. Rufus was delighted with him and acted as Dutch uncle. To give Rufus some respite when we went out, Bertie went into a cage from which he soon learned to escape. He hated the cage and would throw a tantrum when shut in, throwing his toys around and screaming blue murder. When George arrived, Bertie made his life a misery. From the earliest age he insisted on following his own agenda, didn't like meeting new people and was never sociable with other cats. I have no pictures of him, since he went with my partner when we parted company and he predated my purchase of a digital camera.
George arrived next at about five years old. He was
born in my partner's wardrobe and had been living at home ever since, with us
paying for his food and board. This was no small amount, since he had learned
when very young to double his food supply by sitting on his brother's head. He's
never been small and currently weighs in at about nine kilos (19 pounds) at nine
years of age. When my partner and I went our separate ways, he became my cat.
He's got a fairly nervous disposition. When my next-door neighbour
informed me that he had 150 fireworks for 5th November, I went straight to my vet
(pity their web site appears to be unfinished),
who prescribed Valium. He said that I should try just 2mg first and see if there
was any effect. Then he added, knowing George's dopey nature,
"Actually, with George, it's going to be hard to see any effect - give him
4mg." In the event, even that amount had little observable effect on him.
Noticing how much George was becoming a couch potato, I got Archie who, even George might admit, is very cute though he has very sharp extremities indeed. It's no fun having ten claws buried into the base of your tail!
Lotus Blossom (called Blossom for short) arrived yesterday (16th November 2003) aged 9 weeks. She is a very pretty dark tortoiseshell and Birman cross with bright blue eyes. She came from a stable yard so she was very smelly and rather ill on her arrival. She was very lethargic and had little appetite. I took her to the vet and after a single dose of antibiotics she's a truly changed cat. George, of course is saying uncharitable things, so to a lesser degree is Archie. Lotus Blossom might seem like a pretty elaborate name, but Birmans are the holy temple cats from Thailand and I felt she needed an oriental name. However, Blossom is very street wise and has Archie's measure. I've already seen her turn the tables on him several times this evening.
Monday 24th November. They're eating me out of house and home! They've worked their way through an entire box of twelve pouches of cat food today. Thank heavens I get it wholesale! The dishwasher has at least one load a day which consists only of cat dishes and the dustmen must think that we live on cat food! Archie and Lotus Blossom have become very firm friends and even George has been seen to lick her. Certainly he no longer swears at her and is happy to have her beside him at feeding time. When not asleep or eating, Archie and Blossom spend their time wrestling. She no longer needs to scream and throw tantrums, and often comes out on top. (Which, in the case of cats, is on the bottom. Unlike dogs, in a fight, the dominant cat is on its back, where it can use its main weapons: its back claws.)
Page last edited: 18 December 2003