Category: Cats

Like people, each cat has a distinct personality… I say as I step away because Zuko is getting into something he shouldn’t. Kittens are a bundle of fun and defensive actions. However, as the youngest member of the house, he’s the last on my list to talk about. Unless he commandeers the keyboard, of course… he jumped me from round 1 to round 5 of a workout yesterday.

Diane, our oldest, is generally the calmest cat in the house. She hasn’t really warmed up to Arwen over the past couple years, so we were surprised at how well she received Zuko. Diane is the slowest eater, and likely to stare at the other cats as they push into her food bowl rather than stopping them. She’s smart enough to figure out the hunt & feed toys, but doesn’t like competing with the other cats for food, so I end up putting out multiple toys when I feed them dry food. She only climbs on the counter looking for human food when she thinks nobody is watching, and will guiltily slink off when spotted.

June was a young mother when we adopted her and has always been interested in bathing everybody. Note that I didn’t say “every cat” – she’ll bathe anybody who will let her (which does not include me!), and habitually licks furniture and walls too. She’s still a bit unsettled about Zuko’s arrival, but I expect that she’ll eventually bathe him too. She will occasionally paw at my bedroom rug, purring loud enough to be heard across the room. On the rare occasion we find her on the counter, it’s because nobody was in the room and Diane was already up there cleaning a tray or pan. An expert at hiding, she will flee to her nearest hiding spot when caught on the counter.

Arwen, with a hunter’s metabolism, has always been food-oriented, to the point where she gets locked into my room before we even start preparing food. She spent the last couple years trying to convince Diane to play with her, and now thinks it’s annoying when Zuko does the same to her. Kitty karma, especially the lurking outside the litter box while it’s in use part. Particularly in the winter, she sleeps on my arm, purring me to sleep. She likes heights, frequently jumping to the top of a bookshelf to loom over the room like a gargoyle. When found on the counter, she will rapidly look for something to eat, or eat whatever she thinks she found before she gets removed. No guilt there at all.

Zuko is unquestionably a kitten. He demands attention, pawing and nipping at ankles, or jumping up on me during work and purring loudly while he settles down for a nap. Once he’s settled, I’m allowed to set him on the sofa. By the time he’s too heavy to climb curtains, I suspect I will need new curtains. Zuko’s counter exploration is mostly just exploring – he tends to jump up outside of meal time, then wander or sit down comfortably until he’s removed. I realize he has Arwen as a bad example, but hopefully I can teach him that the kitchen counters and dining room table are off limits.

To paraphrase Prince Edward from Enchanted, “What’s not to love?”

At some point in their life, every cat was a kitten. But Zuko, our newest addition, is the youngest cat I’ve adopted in quite some time.

Diane and June were both around a year old when we adopted them, and they were adopted a year apart. We adopted Diana shortly after becoming a one cat household; Mungojerrie (aka Mungo) had never been an only cat and was adamant about needing attention… in the middle of the night. We went to the local pet store to meet the available cats (from a shelter they partner with) and Diane called to us. Literally, she meowed at us for attention.

A year later, we adopted June, who was a young mother looking for a home. Two of her kittens were with her that day, but their personalities weren’t a good fit with Diane and Mungo’s. She fit in perfectly, and between her and Diane, they got Mungo moving again until he passed away at nineteen.

A couple years ago, we adopted Arwen, our “kitten”; her adoption story has already been told here. She settled in nicely with June, and eventually reached a peaceful point with Diane, with the occasional mutual bath. She was already six months old by the time she moved in, and remained our smallest cat, but only by weight; her metabolism is that of a huntress.

Near the end of May, some friends were adopted by a cat with her litter of kittens. Despite cat allergies in the house, they took them in and looked after them until the kittens were old enough to find new homes. Two weeks ago, the potential adopter for Zuko fell through. I had been good up to that point, but really, he needed a home, and who could resist that face? Even the older cats are coming around, though if he really annoys them, they could just sit on him for a while, given the size difference. And like Arwen, he purrs like a motorboat.

I mention my cats in passing frequently, so I thought I’d dedicate a little more space to them this once. They do their best to keep my life interesting, each in their own way.  This is a rare photo of all three of them together.  It would have been convenient if they’d arranged themselves by age for the purpose of this post, but that wouldn’t be particularly cat-like.

Starting from the left, Diane is the oldest.  She was adopted in 2009 when we suddenly found ourselves as a one-cat house, and that cat, Mungojerrie, was making it quite clear that it wasn’t acceptable.  As I recall, he was actively looking for companions in the middle of the night, at volume that reminded us that our black cat was part Siamese.  We stopped at a local pet store – the general pet stores near us partner with shelters in the area – and Diane called out for our attention.  I do mean that literally, she meowed at us as from her enclosure.  It wasn’t long before she and Mungo were happily curled up together.  She is the largest cat in the house, mainly noticeable when she decides to walk on me.  Twelve pounds isn’t a lot to pick up; it’s fairly significant when distributed across a paw or two when you’re lying in bed.  Fortunately, she usually prefers to lay beside me.

In the middle is Arwen, our toe-biting, counter-climbing kitten.  (Technically, at almost two, she’s no longer a kitten.  But I don’t think she’s realized that.)  Diane still hisses at her sometimes, which makes this photo all the rarer – Arwen had to wait until Diane was settled before coming near her on the sofa.  Arwen attacks toes (at least, mine) a little less than when she first moved in, but climbs on everything and anything, especially if she thinks there’s food available.  Because of her, my kitchen cabinets now have child locks, and she ends up banished to a bedroom while we’re eating.

Delusional cat

trying to steal from my plate.

She’s locked up again.

When I serve them canned food, it’s a constant battle of keeping her off the counter while I scoop it into their bowls.  Diane assists me sometimes, poised with one paw in the air, ready to swat at Arwen when I push her off the counter.  Arwen makes up for it by curling up on my arm at night and purring me to sleep.

The rightmost cat is June, the mom cat of the family.  When we adopted her, she was just over a year, and two of her kittens were available for adoption as well.  She will bathe any other cat that’s available, and any people who let her.  (No, thank you!)  She used to be amazingly skittish, bolting whenever a cabinet closed too loudly or somebody went in or out of the house.  She rarely flees now, though she is still the best at “it’s time for the vet hide-and-seek”.  On any given day, she curls up with one of the other cats, waking up occasionally to bathe them.   On cold nights, she likes sleeping under the covers, though she never stays the whole night.  She doubles as an alarm clock, making sure I’m awake to feed them breakfast at an unreasonable hour.

Just over 8 months ago, we welcomed Arwen into our lives. She is, without a doubt, still a force of chaos, also known as a kitten.  I know, she’s over a year old now (since she was 6 months when we adopted her), and technically not a kitten, but I don’t think she realizes that.

She has taught everybody in the house a bit about patience, some better than others.  Diane still has points where she barely tolerates Arwen, particularly on the bed at bedtime.  But I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to find Arwen lying next to her, and sometimes June is there too.

If there’s human food involved, Arwen’s the first one there.  Constantly.  But she’s not up on the counter (as much) while I’m cooking, and has learned most of the time to wait until I put a plate down to lick.  That said, I still won’t walk out of the dining room with a plate of food at the table, and leftovers have to be tucked away while we’re eating.

She’s been great at getting June to exercise, they will tear through the house playing at random times.  Honestly, that’s one of the reasons I wanted a kitten, to encourage the older cats to move more.  (Hasn’t work so well with Diane.)  And they curl up together at times, just like June and Diane still do.

She is a mighty insect huntress.  I can always tell when there’s an insect in the house, because she’s suddenly leaping straight up at the window or the wall.  I rarely notice what kind of insect it was.  Unfortunately, I have far fewer spiders than I used to; I think she’s eaten all the obvious ones.

She’s even learned not to use her claws when grabbing people.  She still reaches out to grab me, but now it’s cute instead of painful.  Her obsession with nibbling on toes, well, that’s still a thing.  Slippers are our first line of defense.

I mentioned at the end of November that we had adopted a kitten, who we named Arwen.  She was a resident at the local animal shelter, and her online bio warned people that “did nip her previous owner, so she needs a new family who can handle a playful kitten.”  Given that she’s a kitten, I couldn’t understand why somebody would be worried about nipping.

In fact, she’s barely nipped me in the couple months since she moved in.  She’s clawed me repeatedly, mostly on my hands, but barely touched me with her teeth.  She’s also attacked my feet in bed enough that I added a thick blanket down at my feet for protection.  In other words, she’s a fairly typical kitten, at least in that respect.

She’s also a climber.  She will dash across the living room to leap onto the climbing tower, or jump on the counter, only to be pushed down and jump on the opposite counter almost immediately.  She seems to think the best route to the bedroom window is to cross under the bed, then over the person in bed, onto the nightstand, leaping onto the dresser and stepping onto the jewelry box.

She is immensely curious about our food.  The older two cats aren’t that interested in what we eat unless it’s chicken, but Arwen investigates everything, and wants to lick every dish and every serving spoon… even if we’re not done with them.  I’ve taken to washing the serving spoons immediately, and re-washing if we go back for more, rather than leaving them out on the counter for her… there’s only so many times I can get up to remove her while I’m eating.  And really, some of that food is spicier than a cat should be licking.

More importantly, what her online bio didn’t say is that her purring can be heard across the room.  She’ll curl up on an arm and just start purring, or more amusingly, purr while I’m serving her food as she runs laps around the food container, and as she starts to eat.   Yeah, that offsets any nipping or clawing.  Cuteness wins.