lizvogel

Yesterday we took the FIV+ stray we've been fostering to his new, I-hope-forever home.

It's been a long road getting here; eight months of visiting him in the garage, then the last three weeks driving across town to visit him daily at a friend's house when it got too cold to keep him (and us!) in the unheated garage. Maintaining a separate cat is a strain: a couple hours a day, every day, when everything else has to be put on hold to give him time and attention and play as well as all the usual cat maintenance. He rewarded us with love, long stretches curled up on laps, leaping after his favorite ugly-toy-onastring or grappling it around the housemate's ankles, or laying on his side and playing catch with me with his fuzzy-crinkly ball. He sniffed noses with me, and tilted his head down so I could kiss it. Even when it was a huge burden to do that One. More. Thing. and fit him in, he made us feel good once we got there.

His new humans seem great; they've had lots of pets before and even an FIV kitty, so they know how this works. And he took to their place right away, exploring the back bedrooms but also coming out to the living room where the people were. By the time we'd been there an hour and a half, he was alternating checking out the many cat-level windows with flopping on the carpet with his toys, with his belly exposed. (Of course when we were ready to leave and wanted final pets, he hid under the beds, because if we couldn't give goodbye pets we couldn't leave. Cat. We managed scritches anyway. And then he came out to the living room while we were going, as if nothing had happened.)

He wanted to be our kitty, and on some level he always will be. But now he has new humans too, and I think he's going to be very happy with them. Good journey, Nelson creamsicle turkey-butt; I'm so glad you found us when you needed us, and thank you for all the love and warmth and purrs. May the beds be always soft, the laps always warm, and the food bowl always full.

On January 8th, I was sitting innocently in the living room when one of my cats started yowling at the window, and I looked out to see another cat yelling back. ( cut for ten months of catch-up )

We asked around, asked our friends to ask around, hit up co-workers, etc., all to no avail. A couple of folks called, but meeting fell through for various reasons. After all our yo-yo-ing with Carlyle, I was reluctant to cast the net too wide, but I finally put up a flyer on the public board at the library. And one of our patrons saw it, who'd just finished an extended baby-sit of a friend's cat and was thinking his own cat missed the company and needed a new friend. He called Saturday, and Monday he came to meet Sylvester, and they hit it off great. Yesterday we took Sylvester over to see his place and meet his cat, and that went great too; Sylvester liked the house, his cat was just the right balance of this-is-my-turf and hey-you're-interesting. So, ten months to the day since he first turned up here, we unloaded Sylvester's vast collection of toys and stuff, gave him final hugs as best we could get his attention for, and left him at his new home.

(Of course, he didn't realize we were going until we'd gone, and then he ran to the window to look after us. It nearly broke my heart not to turn around and go back, but by the time we got the car started, he'd gone back to exploring his new abode.)

We just got a text from his new owner, with pictures of Sylvester (a) sprawling on the bed, and (b) sniffing noses with his new cat friend. I think this is going to be a very good fit.

I miss him; for all the challenges and inconvenience, Sylvester was just plain fun. He was always full of purrs when I draped him over my shoulder, and playing crinkle-ball catch or wiggling another toy behind the giant sheepskin ball until he somersaulted over it was a sure way to put a smile on my face. He loooooved his slicker brush, and if I went into the playroom when he was already there and got down on the floor, he would come over and head-butt me to show affection.

But he couldn't live in our bathroom forever, and now he has a whole, if small, house to run about in, and another cat to interact with, and his own human.

And we have our rooms back. I can feel myself starting to expand out into the house again; I hadn't realized how constrained I was by having to juggle every action around having to maintain an additional, entirely separate cat. A lot of things that have been on hold for most of a year can start moving again, not least the reno. And Teh Kitten seems happier already; it may be coincidence, but he's being extra-affectionate today.

Sylvester, I said you were going to make somebody a great pet. I'm sorry it wasn't me, but I'm glad we found the person it is. Thanks for being your ridiculously furry, friendly, goofball self.

What first presented as pancreatitis turned out to be cancer, all tangled up with her liver and non-operable. So we've been spoiling her as much as possible, and today we gave her as peaceful an end as we could.

Tria always was our problem child; she couldn't get along with other cats, and for the last nine years she's been separated off in her own room. But she was a sweet cat to people, friendly and fond of licking noses. And I really do think she was happier off in her own room than sharing the house with other felines, especially since the housemate slept in there with her. Between that, and going outside to run and climb and chase things, she had a pretty good life.

She had a good day today, with much petting and as much special food and treats as we could tempt her to eat, and a last wander around outside in the fresh air and sunshine with both her humans in attendance. And when it was time to go, she went out in her own room, in the housemate's arms.

We buried her out back, where there's a nice view of the pond, under one of the trees she liked to climb. She loved it out there.

Goodbye, TriaPet. It hasn't always been a smooth ride, but I'm glad eleven years ago you picked our tree to get "stuck" in.

Hark, the herald kitties sing
Food for us, it's time to bring
Fish on plates, and treats galore
That's good, human, give us more

Come on, human, time to rise
What's that mean, "quarter to five"?
With our tails erect we stop
in your path to speed you up

Hark, the herald kitties sing
Food for us, it's time to bring


You're welcome. ;-P

Carlyle has been at his new-new-new home for a little over two weeks, now. Preliminary reports are promising, though they're taking it very slowly with introductions to their other cat, so we won't know for a while yet.

I miss the Carlyle-hugs and the little wet nose against my neck terribly, but I have to admit it is a huge weight off, not to be juggling an extra cat-segment of the barely-overlapping Venn diagram. Fingers are crossed really hard that this one works.

Carlyle is back with us again. Seems he wasn't happy at his new home. He didn't seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary when we went to pick him up, but the people said that was by far the happiest they'd seen him all week. Still processing what went wrong; suspect they were waiting for the cat to make overtures, whereas the cat was waiting for them to be demonstrative, and when they didn't, he figured they didn't like him. But it's all speculation, really.

It took him a few hours to settle down once we got him home, but he has now Carlyle-hugged both of us, and purred. Damn, he's a sweet boy. If only we could get the other cats to believe that.

Our foundling cat who needs a new home is up on a friend's Facebook page.

Carlyle is an energetic one-year-old. He's playful and affectionate, always ready with a purr or to bat a toy around. He's very well housebroken, and uses scratching posts, etc. just as he should. He is neutered, microchipped, and current on all his shots. He can be headstrong, so he does need a human with patience, but the results are worth it.

Unfortunately, our older cats are completely unwilling to consider a new roommate.

We have had "test visits" where Carlyle was introduced to a friendly cat and to a friendly dog, and in both cases the introductions went well. We're confident that Carlyle would do well with other pets who were more outgoing than ours and closer to his energy level.

He's a sweet boy, he just needs the right home. If you think it might be yours, let me know here or call the number on the Facebook post.

We have started putting up flyers to find the new cat a new home.

He's a lovely boy. He had some behavior issues early on, but he's both trainable and basically good-natured, and he's improved tremendously in the few months we've been working with him. He's sweet and friendly and fun, and stress just melts away when he drapes himself over your shoulder and purrs. He's going to make somebody a terrific pet.

Unfortunately, it's not going to be us. Our other cats are just Not At Home to the idea of a new roommate, and the more we try to persuade them to it, the more stressed out they're getting. And it's not him, it's them; he seems willing to meet them halfway, but by that point they're halfway to the hills. (We tried him out with the vet's clinic cat yesterday, and he was just about perfect; a very nearly textbook example of how you'd want a cat-meeting to go.) Which is frustrating as hell, not least because I think he's exactly what they need -- but there you are, and they are who they are, and we love them for it. So, the new guy has to go.

Alternating between being gutted (We really like him!) and trying to think of him as a foster cat who we're helping toward the next phase of his life. And it'll be a good life. But this still sucks.