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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Rhoda Day 2

We are very much enjoying our new wee one. Rhoda fits right in here, and is getting comfortable navigating the house. Today, I weighed her on the postal scale and she came up at about twenty ounces, so just over a pound. This was surprising to me because Rhoda seems much smaller than Piper was when I found her, but Piper was one pound, one ounce. I will know for sure her weight on Thursday, when she goes to the vet for the first time.

Rhoda is very affectionate and loves cuddles. She is always sitting on us, purring and nestling in the crook of an elbow and the curve of our necks. One thing that makes me feel very sad is how desperately she wants to nurse. So far, Rhoda has tried to suck on our eyes (yes, that says eyes), our chins, my hair, our ears, and our fingers. She cries and cries and tries to nurse, which makes me feel very sad for her.

The exciting part is falling in love again. It's exciting for both of us to watch her learn and grow, and predict what she might be like as an adult cat. I love seeing Alan nurture her and snuggle with her. He is adorable when he takes care of our critter children.

Piper has been following Rhoda everywhere. She continues to reach out and tap at Rhoda's back, then run away. Or, she will put her nose against Rhoda's and run away a few seconds later.

I can't wait to see what she does next!

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Small Surprises

There is nothing quite like an unexpected critter. This is definitely our last one, per our critter family agreement. We visited Delina and Gary over the weekend, and Alan fell in love with their new kitten, Claire. He was a cat person before he was a dog person, and sometimes that guy comes out, especially when there's kittens involved, so another kitten was his idea. We decided to get one from Midland County Animal Control for many reasons, one being that they use the gas chamber to euthanize their animals, and the other that they kill most of the kittens that come through their doors. Alan wanted to pick out this one, so we went on the website and he found one that he liked.

I called early and asked if they had the kitten, and the woman on the phone said yes, so I told her we wanted to adopt it. She told me to come over and called the kittens "little monsters". When I got there, some lady was at the front desk bitching up a storm to the deputy about some man that apparently poisoned her dogs with antifreeze, and that she couldn't pay $1000 to save them. It was totally awkward for me to be standing there, but I didn't know what else to do. Finally, the woman came out from behind a door and lead me to the back. A white pit bull gazed at me with sad eyes. A rottweiler mix stared; dogs barked and barked hoping to be let out. She grabbed the kitten out of the cage and left me in the "quiet room" with her.

The quiet room was not quiet. Instead, it was filled with howls and cries of fear from the dogs trapped in small cages. My heart was pounding, knowing the unfortunate fate of those poor souls. I waited and waited, bonding with the kitten. She crawled all over me, purring, climbing onto my shoulders and nestling her tiny self into my hair. The kitten she gave me was not the kitten Alan wanted, but a different one, but the woman had not told me this. It was hard to tell because the photo was so dark, and they are both gray and white tabby cats. The plan was if the kitten Alan wanted wasn't there, that I had to call him.

Finally, the lady came back and said, "You know that isn't the kitten in the picture." Why would she tell me on the phone that kitten was available, give me a different one, and THEN tell me? I knew Alan wanted to know if that one wasn't available, but after bonding with this girl, how could I turn my back?

After jumping through some crazy hoops that included calling my vet and pre-paying for a spay (can't take the cat home until the spay is paid for), the little girl was ready to go home. The deputy said, "Good luck with this one. She is wild."

We named her Rhodesia (Zimbabwe's name when it was just a republic)--Rhoda for short. She is very small and purrs constantly. She loves to be held, and is of course incredibly curious. And oh my, she is just SO small it boggles my mind. Piper was only a pound when I found her at work, so I am anxious to see how much Rhoda weighs, because she seems smaller.

The other critters are reacting like they usually do to a new addition. Reagan wants to play, Quincy is nurturing and also wants to play, Walter unfortunately has a very strong prey drive and wants to eat her right now, which will change when she gets bigger. Piper follows her everywhere and occasionally bats lightly at Rhoda, and Aurora (that diva) is currently pissed off, which she will get over eventually.

Alan is in LOVE. I adore seeing him hold her and pamper her. Rhoda is a good fit.

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The Rock of the Family

This has been a trying year for our pack, and more specifically, Reagan. She is the rock of this family, much more than Alan or I, and sometimes it is easy to forget that more than any of us, this year has been the toughest on her. In just five months, Reagan has:

-had to adjust to a new puppy in the house (Quincy)
-moved to a new place
-lost her best friend in the entire world (Wembley)
-welcome two new pack members (Walter and Aurora)
-somehow adjust to Wembley not being here

Reagan deserves a lot more credit than she gets. People are hard on Reagan if they don't know her. She's often called dumb, too hyper, and crazy. She is hyper and she is crazy, but she has a heart of gold and an unrivaled maternal instinct for the rest of the pack, including us. Reagan is pure love.

The day after Wembley died, we took Reagan and Quincy to Petsmart. We were trying to get out of the house and its emptiness. At Petsmart, a senior golden was walking in a different aisle. Reagan saw this, and started wagging her tail. She had a look of hope on her face, and we both knew she thought this dog was Wembley from afar. While losing Wembley has been horrible for us, seeing Reagan mourn has been just as painful, and that moment tops everything. Sometimes Reagan checks for Wembley at the car doors or peeks hopefully around corners. She isn't the same carefree girl she used to be. She's never quite as happy as she was with Wembley, and she needs more affection from us than she ever has before.

I just hope we can give Reagan everything she needs, because she is our pack leader. Reagan is the core, the heart, and above all, selfless.

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Happy Third, Aurora!

Today is Aurora's third birthday. She has only been with us since the end of April, but it feels like we've had her for years. She fits in here perfectly. Having a deaf cat has also been quite the learning experience for us. We thought she might have some confidence issues because of it, but she is doing just fine.

For her birthday, we bought her a crinkle sack and some treats. Even though she can't hear the crinkles, she does like hiding in the sack and playing with it, so it was a good choice.

Tonight we took her outside on the leash. She was running and playing, leaping, chasing bugs and birds and butterflies. It's nice to see that she is comfortable being outside and especially on the leash. We don't usually bring the cats out, but sometimes we allow them to enjoy that luxury.

We weren't expecting to get another cat this spring. It was not a plan at all, but we both know it was meant to be, and we hope she has many more birthdays.

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Away

Today is a particularly bad Wembley day. I have a lot of these, but the approaching six month anniversary of her passing isn't helping, nor is the fact that her collar still smells like her.

Wembley had many collars, as all of our animals get their collars changed for seasons and holidays. While Reagan can't wait to be "naked", Wembley loved wearing her collars and always looked a little prouder when we put a new one on. The ultimate collar though, is the Wembley collar, that being a bright pink collar with her name spelled out in rhinestones.

All of her collars are tucked away now in a pink hat box with hearts all over it. I remember when I bought the box just to store all of her stuff. I put her dog shirts, her cheerleading outfit, her favorite toys, all of her collars, and all of the cards we received while she was sick and when she passed away. There's a ceramic heart with her paw print on it too. The cashier, trying to make conversation, remarked,

"Someone is getting a big Valentine's Day present."

Now, I know he was only trying to be friendly, but it was only a week or so after Wembley's death, and it took every piece of strength I had to not cry at the checkout. Instead, I smiled, and cried in the privacy of my own car.

The rhinestone collar finally went into the box this afternoon. It was slung over a picture of Wembley as a puppy, but I discovered that this collar still holds Wembley's scent very strongly. For those fleeting seconds it seemed like she was still here and this nightmare never happened. If I can smell Wembley on this collar, no doubt Reagan can, and that's the reason I put it in the box. It is easier for us to understand where Wembley went. We know the gory, clinical details, but Reagan doesn't. She doesn't understand cancer or chemo. She doesn't understand why Wembley isn't here. People might think that is easier, but Reagan is an intuitive pup and she still looks with hope that maybe Wembley came home from work with Alan today, or maybe Wembley is just hiding in the corner, or maybe Wembley is in one of her usual napping spots. Reagan is not the same dog. She's happier now, but there is something different about her, and that's just one more reason to put the collar in the box.

If only removing the sadness were so easy.

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Aurora's Big Adventure

Sometimes animals are very similar to children in their actions. Today was one of those days for Aurora and Quincy. Apparently, Quincy can't learn "down" or "beg", but she knows how to open patio doors, which is exactly what she did. She opened the glass door and the screen door, and I found this out when I spotted her sitting in the grass. Quincy loves sitting in the yard and she usually sits out there for quite awhile, but with my supervision of course.

I closed the door and brought Quincy inside, not thinking that one of the cats might have escaped. About an hour passed, and the dogs started barking ferociously at the window. They always do this. They bark at the bus when it drops of the neighbor's son who has down syndrome- he comes home from work every day at five via the bus. They bark at UPS, they bark at people mowing the lawn, they bark at other dogs that stray into the yard. Today, their barks were a little different. They were more urgent, and they kept looking back at me. Even Walter was up and barking, and usually he just looks at Quincy and Reagan as if to say "Oh, PLEASE, I am so much better at behaving than you."

Somehow, I just knew something was going on. When I turned around, I saw Aurora, a deaf and front declawed cat, (who at the time was missing her collar and tag because it fell off somewhere in the house) across the street in the neighbor's driveway. She was starting to walk across the road, and I saw a car whir by, WAY too close to her. I bolted out the door and ran, barefoot into the road, scooped her up and held her tight. My heart was pounding and my legs were shaking at what could have happened to her, not to mention the fact that she had been outside for at least an hour. When I picked her up, she was purring and purring, and all afternoon she has been strutting around the house as though she completed a daring feat. It's situations like this one that make me upset that she is front declawed (a decision made by her previous owners).

I can't even express how relieved I am that the worst did not happen, that she didn't wander very far, and that she is now safe and sound. Lucky for her, cats have nine lives! :)

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