Playing, finally

Taken from: https://www.aliexpress.com/item/Cat-Pet-Sisal-Rope-Woven-Ball-Teaser-Play-Chewing-Rattle-Scratch-Catch-Toy-7M1T/32751411632.html

So, I was really worried about Gus, because he hadn't really played like a kitten should --I shouldn't have worried.  Whether it was the big life change, getting shots, or being sort of run down, he's over it now. 

Last night, he played so hard, I thought he'd crash in place like he usually does.  He didn't.  he kept going and going like the Energizer bunny. He played until 10:30 when I ran out of steam.

It started with his meowing.  We couldn't figure out what he wanted. We haven't learned his language yet, although we are getting there.  We do know the meow that sounds like an engine that can't quite turnover means he's hungry, and he has a meow that means he's mad that he can't get in a door.  But that's it.

So he was meowing whatever last night and we didn't know what he wanted.  Finally, since he looked bored, I said, "I think he's bored." We started to play with him. He is finally not afraid of strings on sticks so I did that for awhile (I had to wait for my hamburger to thaw on low in the frying pan).

sneaking up on it

Then I cooked, and he was bored.  After we ate, we rolled jingle balls down the hall, because he loves to chase them.  Usually, he just runs down the hall and then waits for the next ball, because he hadn't figured out how to coordinate his paws to bat the balls around when they are rolling at speed. 

He finally figured it out.  He'd run down the hall, bat once or twice, and do these huge athletic, four-footed pounces that were at least two feet off the ground.  We laughed super hard because he isn't that coordinated at it yet. He can't quite get his huge paws and growing legs working in all the right directions at the same time so he tends to bounce off of things.  For example, we have a large couch that has two recliners built in.  One of them is on the end closest to the hallway and the kitchen. Gus came barreling down on a jingle-ball, pounced, and over did it.  He pounced up to the top of the recliner, bounced off of it and spilled at the bottom. 

Who's afraid of the stick and string?

Chad was in the recliner.  He said, "What was that?"
"Gus, just pounced and missed." 
"That was Gus?"
"Yes."
"He moved the whole chair."
"Yep, he's ten pounds of crazy."

Haunted

When I was small, we lived in a haunted apartment.  It was a small, two bedroom, basement apartment.  The ghost was a man in a yellow rain slicker like fishermen wear.

Borrowed from: https://www.charactersunlimited.com/about-us/testimonials/

Anyway, he would terrify me even though he didn't ever do or say anything; he just stood in the doorway when I opened my door, or stood in my room and looked at me.  When I would see him, I would screw up my courage, shut my eyes and run to my parents room and pound on their door.  I never had the guts to tell them what I saw (I was afraid that talking about him would make him appear), or even that I was terrified to go back into my room.  I always said my tummy hurt, and it did, only from fear. 

I've had other hauntings in the various places I've lived, but I don't like to talk about them. My husband said that our house in Oregon was haunted by an old lady, but I never saw or sensed her, so I think he said that just to spook me.  

When my kitties died, I swear they did not actually leave.  I feel Raz jump on the bed at night, and Gus won't sleep in Raz's spot on the bed.  I find myself stepping over Jinx in the hall (my brother called him speed bump because of his love of stretching across all high traffic areas in the house). 

speedbump

double speedbump

Both my husband and I have seen glimpses of Jinx, or heard his very unique trill.  It's weird.  Sometimes Gus, responds as though there is something there and he will walk around otherwise empty stretches of carpet where Jinx liked to lie.  

The question is, is anyone else haunted by their dead pets?  Or is this the imaginative result of grief? Discuss.

The evil vet

Vet clinic in the summer. http://www.north-slope.org/departments/health-social-services/community-health-services/public-health-office-veterinary-clinic

So, Gus was a mess when I picked him up.  If you read the earlier blogs, you will know that he never had shots, he had ear mites and a drippy, wonky eye when I brought him home.  We flew in on Saturday night, and I had an appointment for him Monday after work.

He had a day and a half to adjust to his new home.  Then I ran in the door after abandoning him for a whole nine hours, grabbed him, shoved him in a hard plastic box, took him out in the -20 degree weather, and gave him to the evil vet.

My vet isn't evil. In fact the entire staff are unbelievably sweet and caring.  I had to take Raz in once a week for six months to get treatment for his kidneys, and then twice a week for the last month of his life.  So, I'm pretty familiar with their staff.  Gus was not.

The vet had to examine him. Then she gave him a big shot and stuffed some liquid up his nostrils.  Next, she had to poke his eye and prod at it, and then put glow in the dark drops in it.  Lastly, she squirted crap in his ears and swabbed it up several times--deep.  He felt thoroughly, and rightly so, violated.  I took him home and he was a little unhappy with us for a minute, but then got over it--thankfully.

Then I did it to him again the next Tuesday.  I stuffed him in the box early this time because I had to drop him off and leave him all day.  It was a big day. I was getting him snipped.  I tried not to let him know, but again, he didn't hold a grudge.

He was fully awake when I picked him up if a little goofy.  He kept falling off of things he jumped up on.  The vet said, "I love Gus, he is so sweet." Sure enough the little devil charmed the vet and decided he didn't mind them. Even after they committed the ultimate act of violation.  Go figure.

A rose by any other name...

Why did we name our new kitty Gus?  It's a long story.  I've had various cat names throughout the years--some traditional, some not.  I had a Key Key, Kitty, Max, George, Silk, Velvet, Oberon, Annie,  Princess, Jinx, and Raz (although he was a fancy registered cat given to me who's real name was Razzle Dazzle).

My mom isn't an animal person. The only pet I was allowed to have until I was 8 or 9ish was a guppy.  Don't get me wrong, I love guppies. I have four swimming in my living room as we speak, but children love something furry that they can cuddle. I never outgrew that. Thus the string of cats above (in no particular order). I've also had 3 dogs, 4 horses, a pet chicken, and a pet possum.  I'd still have a whole menagerie if we didn't move so darn much -- and currently live in the Arctic.

So, back to Gus.  My dad's nickname was Gus.  Everyone on his side of the family called him Gus until the day he died.  When he was eight-years-old, Cinderella came out and as you know, there is a cute fat mouse named Gus Gus in the movie.  Apparently, my dad was a chubby kid, and he had large ears that stuck out (probably from a bad home haircut as much as from bad ears). So, of course, his siblings thought it would be hilarious to start calling him Gus Gus--it stuck.  There are probably a bunch of baby-boomers out there now with the nickname Gus for this very reason.

Dad is the baby in this old, and very washed out photo

Anywho, we struggled to come up with a name.  I had a whole pad of possibilities and so did my husband.  My favorites were Dash, Ollie, and Siggy.  We tried to make one stick, but he was just a Gus.  Plus, it's nice to hear the name again.  Now he is named, the nicknames don't stop. My husband can't call anything by it's given name, and poor old Gus has a few nicknames already.

Gus is a messy eater.  When you hear him it sounds like a whole passel of pigs being swilled.  He gets in there deep.  Needless to say his feeding area looks like this:

So I was complaining as I was cleaning up the hog mess the other day and my husband stopped me and said, "You know, we missed a real opportunity here."

Of course I fell for it and said, "What are you talking about?"
"We should have named him Sloppy Joe."

Ugh.  I can't shake the name.  Even when I protested that I was never going to call my new kitten Sloppy Joe, I did have an inner chuckle. Then, the other night I was holding him and he was all limp in my arms.  I said, "He really is a floppy cat," (as you may know a common nickname for Ragdolls), and Chad began to sing. "Floppy Joe, Flop, Floppy Joe." I didn't know if I wanted to laugh, sing along, or slug him.

Playing, Sort Of...

Gus had some strange behaviors.  He is still in that late kitten zone, but he doesn't play a lot. Now this may be my own misconception, since I haven't had a kitten for a very long time.  He'll chase jingle balls, but he won't bat them around.  He'll be interested in the toy mice, but again, he doesn't know what to do with them. Finally, when we first brought him home, he was utterly terrified of anything at the end of a string on a stick. 

In this picture, I am trying to play with him. This stick has a bunch of feathers at the top, and at first I held the string down, and he would engage with the feathered end. This works as long as he is in his 'safe zone' on the ottoman.  After a few days, he finally started to show interest and not run away when I used the string end with the chirpy birdie on it.  Here he is showing interest. You can see where we lost some feathers below!

Finally, he is playing like a crazy kitten.  We played for a full 25 minutes (I timed it) before he got bored or worn out.














He even mixed it up, playing sneaky predator in the bushes, by hiding under his scratching thing! (You can see the top of his head and the top of one eye under the scratching thing).




The only thing I can guess is that nobody played with him before. He wants to do it, but I think he got used to playing with other cats, and didn't have a human to play with.  I don't know. He is still learning how to chase things that we roll up and down the hall.











He loves having toys, though.  He likes to select them and look at them and apparently sleep on them.

Here he is all tuckered out.  He didn't even have the energy to find a comfy spot to sleep!  If he ever appreciates it, he has a wealth of toys to try out and learn how to play with!

Coming Home

I flew to Anchorage.  I had some business to deal with and shopping to do, so I did that first.  Then I was supposed to meet the lady in the parking lot of the Wasilla WalMart at 10 am (I had to catch the flight out at 2 pm and it was an hour drive both ways). 

I was there about 15 minutes early, and had to run to the bathroom and get one more thing I had forgotten off of my list.  I texted the lady to tell her about my car and where I was parked. I also let her know I was running in. 

In the middle of my hurried search for my item, she texted back.  "Sorry, I just got up, I can't make it until noon or later." I have to say, my heart sank. 

I called my husband.

Luckily, this was the weekend of the big storms in the Northwest, and several Alaska flights routed from Seattle and Portland were delayed.  Mine was delayed by 2 hours.  I told the lady to hurry, I needed to catch a plane, and settled in to wait in the car and hope she really wasn't backing out.



She needed the money.  I overpaid her price, just because I knew she was giving up one of her babies, and I knew what it felt like.  She was also, as I mentioned, down on her luck financially.

She handed him to me, and I got to feel that famous Ragdoll love. They go limp and heavy and sink into you like a, well, rag doll! I held him for a while before I had to stuff him in his carrier and leave.  I worried he'd be stressed or scream the whole way since he was leaving his family and going on a bit of a scary journey.

Gus, not quite sure what to think. 

He seemed a little anxious, but he settled in like a champ. I petted him off and on thru the carrier top, and he responded by reaching up to my hand.  He actually seemed to enjoy the ride! He got a little scared in the airport, because he was trembling, but on the plane, he was so quiet, and he even fell asleep. He's a traveling ninja!

He made it home, and was immediately adjusted.  He explored, but then he kicked it on the couch like a pro.

This pic is the day he came home.  He found the toys, and plopped on the couch.  

New kitty?

So, my niece wanted to get us a kitten.  We did not want a kitten.  We work all day and aren't home much so we didn't have time for a kitten.  She found a few kittens.  The other issue with getting a new kitty is that we live in the Arctic. Not just along the bottom, but at the very top of the world in Barrow, AK the northernmost US town.  To get a kitty would involve at least one plane ride for the animal. 

 Barrow by air













                   

She finally confessed and showed us pictures.  We liked the Ragdoll breed from it's breed descriptions, so when we saw Gus's picture on a for sale post on Alaska's List, we knew we had to have him.  He wasn't a little kitten, he was a 10-month-old to a year-old kitten.  So, I called the lady.  He was from a home (from what I could tell) of a breeder who was down on her luck.  He hadn't had any shots, he hadn't been neutered, he had ear mites, and he had a clogged eye duct so his eye was swollen and draining.




I hemmed and hawed.  How could I be sure he was healthy?  I couldn't lose another cat so soon!

The lady said he was healthy, so, I told her I was coming to get him.




Gus with the bad eye, bad ears and balls, lol.

A tragedy and a triumph

This blog starts with a personal tragedy.  My two boys of 12 and 16 years died within 1 week of each other.  Jinx, the oldest, was fat, and I thought happy.  Other than being old and fat, I had no reason to think there was anything wrong with him.  He always ate, he was interested in us, he played with his brother.  He had slowed down, but he got around if a bit stiffly.  On January 17, I noticed that he was breathing weird. He didn't eat more than a bite of food (this never happened) and I could hear wheezing in his chest.  Since it was night and I had to work in the morning, I called and arranged to have my sister take him to the vet.  I assumed he had a cold or something.  Although I hoped it wasn't anything worse. 

I went to work in the morning and the vet called and asked if I approved x-rays, which of course I did.  My sister stayed with him.  Five minutes later I got a call saying he had passed.  They assumed from the x-ray it was congestive heart failure.  He never showed any symptoms before this time.  The shock was bad.  Mostly because we thought he was the healthy one.  His brother Raz, had kidney failure and had just gone in to the vet a week before this for us to be told he was in end stage, and it was a matter of days.  He was sad and looked for Jinx, but he only had a week left as things worked out and then we had no more fuzzy boys.  Our hearts were broken and a giant hole yawned open in our lives.

                                                                              RAZ

The Boys

Socks

We swore it would be a while before we could welcome a pet into our lives.  Our heats were ravaged, but a few days later a friend's dad died and she had to leave town and needed someone to watch her kitty, Socks.  Friendship and loneliness led me to volunteer. Socks was a sweet boy and he helped us see that even though we could never replace our boys, ever, we needed a kitty to fill the loneliness in our lives and hearts. 

Meanwhile, my niece was plotting to find me a kitten.  She knew we were impressed with Raz.  He was a very special kitty, and we loved his breed, which was American Bobtail. We liked his doglike personality.  He was interested in what we did, liked people and other animals, and liked to cuddle. 

That's how we got this rascal, Gus, our first ever Ragdoll.