The Dynamics of Adjusting

It is always interesting to see the dynamics of our pack when there's a new arrival. Reagan especially has had a lot of adjusting to do this year. Rhoda is fitting in swimmingly of course, and the cats are now forming their own little clique, even though I think all of them prefer the company of dogs.

Aurora was not a huge fan of Rhoda, as expected. She came from a family with only dogs, but she is doing a great job of getting along with Piper. Aurora is a diva. She likes to be the center of attention, and loves to be held. She was so annoyed with Rhoda that she stayed in the basement for the majority of the first two days. Now she is back to normal, roaming the house and showing up in our bed or next to it every morning.

Walter is a lot better with Rhoda now. The first day we brought her home, he picked her up thinking she was lunch! Now he still gets into "I see prey, must get it" mode only on occasion. He can walk right by her and sit by her (under supervision). I wouldn't leave him home alone with her, but we don't have to stick to him constantly either. Once she gets bigger, this won't be a problem, but his Chow Chow prey drive is strong, and by all means not his fault.

Quincy is being driven mad, only because she thinks Rhoda is something to herd. As Rhoda gets bigger she will make a good playmate for Quincy.

Piper and Rhoda are my favorite to watch. Piper is the best cat in the world (she is the Wembley of cats), and incredibly patient with Rhoda. She lets Rhoda bat at her, she lets Rhoda invade her space on the cat tower, and she even lets her take over playtime. Rhoda follows Piper, and I think sees her as a mother figure of sorts. Piper is teaching Rhoda how to hunt. If their favorite toy, Da Bird, is out, Piper will hunt first, and let Rhoda try it out next. At first I thought this was a fluke, but they have continued to do this often. Sometimes I catch them napping side by side. Over time, these two are going to become best friends.

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A New Summer

For the first time in eight years, we are going to the UP without Wembley. Actually, something very monumental is happening when we will be away: July 4th marks eight years to the day that we brought our beautiful girl home. Alan will still be camping on Isle Royale, leaving me alone to process and question something that started eating away our little baby. Even if I had every clinical answer, I would still be asking why this happened when it did.

This trip will mark our first time in the UP with our new pack. It will be Walter's first time up there, and Quincy's first time as a nearly adult dog, and Reagan's first time without Wembley. I'm hoping Q will learn how to swim and not be afraid of the water, and that Walter will use his life jacket and enjoy some freedom from the pressure of his bad leg. There will be all sorts of fun things for them to explore, other pups to meet, and romping around with their pup cousins, Zeke and Honey. All I want is for them to have fun, because every once in awhile Reagan slips into "looking for Wembley" mode, which is the single, most heartbreaking part of our loss. We know what happened, but does Reagan? She knows her best friend is gone, but everything else is most likely a mystery.

We're all still learning how to be without her, and I am hoping this trip perks things up for all of us. Alan and I often talk about how we feel stuck in a bizarre tunnel where time marches on, but our sadness clings to every thought and moment. A haunting that will only grow the more we love, but looking into the faces of our critters, we know it's worth it.

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Happy Birthday, Piper!

One year ago today, I was driving to work, hating my job, hating my life because of my job, and wanting another pet, preferably a dog. This was a time in my life where I cried every day on my drive to work, because I was teaching the class from hell where a student was sending me threatening e-mails and generally acting crazy.

On June 4th, I turned onto the road that meant work was only five minutes away, and was thinking about how I would never be so lucky to find a stray dog. During the beginning of my last class (not the one I hated), I looked out the window to my left and saw her: a teeny-tiny kitten sitting with her mama, a feral cat that had been frequenting the campus for years. Deep down, I knew it would not be right to leave her outside, but I wasn't sure if I would be able to nab her or if she would even be there when class ended. When I looked out the window again, I noticed her ear was gone, and in its place a bloody wounded mess. THEN I knew I was not leaving without her, even if I had to stay all day long.

After rushing her to the vet, I found out the kitten was indeed a little girl, and most likely about 6 weeks old. She only weighed one pound, one ounce, and was terrified. The first thing she did at our apartment was hide behind the washing machine. I held her and snuggled her as much as she would let me, just to make sure Piper knew she was safe and loved.

One year later, we have the world's greatest cat. She is cuddly, loves to play, sleeps with us, cleans the dogs, wrestles with the dogs, has the cutest trills in the world, and is generally just amazing. More importantly, Piper gave me something I will never be able to repay her for, that being a sense of usefulness during a time where I felt like giving up on everything. I just hope she breaks some sort of crazy record for being the oldest cat ever, because she is adored in this house. She is the Wembley of cats. That's like being the fanciest car of all cars (I seriously have no clue what the fanciest or best car is).

Piper's birthday presents:

Catnip bubbles
Giant life-sized rat toy (she is a crazy hunter...she loves it)
Dried anchovies
Two bags of treats- milk flavored and fishy beach mix
A squeaky mouse to hang from her cat tower
Play cube (all of the presents were in it)
Treat dispenser ball

Alan and I put the cube with all of the toys onto the bed and let Piper explore. She was purring and purring and purring, getting louder with each one. Her favorites are the beachy fish treats and the giant rat. Now, she's here on my lap, curled up into a ball, sleeping and purring some more. I think she is having a good birthday.

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On Cats

When I was in second grade, all I wanted was a cat to name Melody. My parents were never big on animals, so when the day came and we brought home a black cat with thumbs, I was thrilled. Instead of naming her Melody, I named her Mittens. She was all black, and of course the cat of my dreams, because I love love loved cats back then. A couple weeks went by, and my mom said the lady who gave us the cat wanted her back. I was heartbroken.

I also believed this story until I was 28 years old. It was not until last summer that my mom told me the TRUTH: she hated having a cat and gave it back to the woman. I always wondered what happened to Mittens, and what kind of life she had.

Now, we have two cats. Piper, the one-eared feral wonder, and Aurora, the deaf girl with bad knees. Piper really made me fall in love with cats all over again. My favorite part about cats is just watching them play and hunt. We don't have many bugs or flies in the house despite it being spring, and I give all of the credit to Piper. She sits at the patio door and in the window waiting for birds to show up or bugs to try and get through the screen. Aurora isn't too shabby on the hunting either. Together, they sit side by side at the patio at night and watch the moths flutter against the glass, jumping up and down as the moths fly away. It has only been about six weeks, but I'm hoping in time they grow to be the type of cat buddies who snuggle.

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