+ Moky +

     On March 20, 2014, Moky died from complications to chronic kidney disease (CKD). He was diagnosed with it in May 2012.

     At the beginning of this year (2014), I noticed that Moky was losing weight despite eating his canned food twice a day (and the 24/7-available dry food). He was drinking water in his normally frenzied way. He always loved drinking water, and since the CKD diagnosis, he seemed to be even more addicted to the liquid. I surmise that the kidney problems instigated that love for water consumption.

     From the summer of 2012 until about the end of February 2014, I was adding Tripsy to Moky’s canned food because it was touted to be good for cats suffering from CKD, as well as other kidney problems. Until February of this year, the Tripsy was working quite well to stave off complications related to CKD. I don’t know if the manufacturer changed the composition of the supplement or if Moky’s CKD was advancing, but Moky had nearly stopped eating his canned food around the end of February.

     I was also giving the supplement (good as a preventive measure) to Gypsy and Stormy, and they, too, stopped eating the food with the Tripsy in it. When I opened a new can of food and refrained from adding Tripsy to it and served that to the cats, all three cats ate the food. Obviously, the Tripsy altered the taste of the food, and the cats put their paws down and weren’t having any of that!

     At that point, I’m deluding myself into believing that the Tripsy is working because I keep putting the drops into the food only to see my cats walk away from it. The first clue that should’ve shaken me to my bones was when Gypsy walked away from the Tripsy’d food. She LOVES food, so for her to not want the food, I should’ve known that Tripsy was the culprit. Never mind that I was hell-bent on giving Moky the supplement because I thought it was helping him.

     Reluctantly, I concluded that Tripsy was not helping Moky, so I stopped putting it into his food (as well as in Gypsy’s and Stormy’s food). Moky deteriorated throughout the month of March. From the last week in February to March 19th, I took Moky to the vet for sub-cutaneous (sub-q) fluid-therapy treatments. Earlier in February, I took Moky to the vet because he was, once again, losing weight rapidly, and I knew that CKD was causing the weight loss. The veterinarian checked him out, but she didn’t take any blood from him. Moky was given a sub-q treatment that day, and the vet told me to bring him in for a few days in a row for more treatments. I took him in for a few consecutive days for fluid-therapy treatments, which seemed to work a bit as Moky was eating more of his food. That lasted a week or two; then, I had to take him in again for more treatments. By that time, it was mid-March. I didn’t take him in during Spring Break (March 10-16), but I did take him in March 18th and 19th.

     By the time Spring Break arrived, I had resorted to putting the cats’ water fountain on the floor because Moky was having trouble jumping up onto the counter. During Spring Break, I started putting a water dish on my computer desk because Moky liked lying on the Kit-n-Box bed that’s attached to my desk. Because he was having mobility problems, I thought that having the water dish on my desk would be more helpful to him. I was right about that. When he became thirsty, he would stand up and walk to my desk to drink his water. On the weekends (from February’s end to March 16th), I couldn’t take him in to the vet for sub-q treatments, so I started adding SmartWater to his water bowl. He lapped that up eagerly. I was careful not to add too much of that water to the regular water because I didn’t know if drinking only that type of water would be detrimental to his well-being. SmartWater contains electrolytes, and a little research on CKD helped me make the choice of adding it to Moky’s water dish. I also bought and added generic Pedialyte to his bowl. The vet approved of that, so I knew I was heading in the right direction, and that that would tide us over until I could take him back to the vet.

     On the night of Wednesday, March 19th, Moky was lying on the Kit-n-Box bed, and I had gotten up and gone into the kitchen to rinse out my drinking glass. Moky decided to get up and go to the desk to drink some of his water, but he didn’t quite make it. I heard a soft thud (I really can’t describe the sound) and a weak meow from Moky. When I looked toward the desk and his bed and didn’t see him on either spot, I asked, “Moky, where are you?” When I walked around the corner, I saw him lying on the floor below the Kit-n-Box bed. He couldn’t move; he was lying on his left side with all four legs stretched out. I rushed to him and picked him up. [In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have picked him up until checking him out first, but the mommy instinct kicked in, and I wanted to rescue my baby.] I hugged him and told him everything would be okay. In my mind, I knew that that fall was the beginning of the end.

     I put him back on his bed and cried because I knew that Moky couldn’t go on anymore like this – in this state. He was very weak; his back legs were not working as well as he wanted them to work. He was not drinking his water even though he would try to get up to drink it. I brought the dish to him several times, but he wouldn’t drink the water. He had stopped eating, too. Since I had already planned to take him to the vet for a sub-q treatment the next day (Thursday, March 20), I knew that I would be taking him in much earlier in the day than I normally did (around 11 AM). The problem was how could I watch him through the night and still get a little bit of sleep. I still had to go to work Thursday, so I knew I had to get, at least, a little sleep. I also knew I couldn’t sleep in my desk chair and be able to keep an eye on Moky. I decided that the best recourse was to put Moky in his cat carrier and have him sleep in that in my bedroom (next to my bed) while I tried my best to get some shut-eye.

     That was a difficult experience. Moky was in his carrier and crying for me, and I was trying to sleep. I awakened, periodically, that night to check on him, to make sure he was okay in his carrier. I closed the door to my bedroom so that Gypsy and Stormy did not come in to bother us. I woke up early Thursday morning (only a few hours after going to sleep) and got dressed. I carried Moky (in his carrier) downstairs to curious feline onlookers (Gypsy and Stormy). I kept Moky in his carrier for obvious reasons (mostly so that he wouldn’t try to wander off or hurt himself).

     I took him to the vet; Moky cried on the way over there. He never liked going to the vet, so I was somewhat used to his crying. Nevertheless, I still talked to him, comforting him on the 10-minute drive over there. The veterinarian examined Moky and realized, like I did, that he had reached that final stage of CKD. I didn’t want to suggest that Moky should be put to sleep; I, essentially, made the vet suggest it, but I still had to make that decision on my own because Moky was my cat. There was nothing more that could be done to make his life better because he was in that end-stage. I, finally, decided that Moky would be better off in Heaven than he would be here on Earth.

     I opted for cremation because the other choices were out of the question for me (burying him in my back yard (I couldn’t do that because I live in an apartment) or having him buried with other dead animals (that last one seems unconscionable to me)). His box will sit beside my mother’s box (on the other side is Bella’s box).

     I haven’t yet picked up his box because I haven’t had time. I have to take Gypsy and Stormy in for their annual shots, so I will pick up Moky’s box when I take either of the girls in. I’m so bad at getting up in the early morning hours that I haven’t been able to take the girls in on any Saturday morning (no appointments necessary between 8:00 and 11:30 AM every Saturday). I need to make appointments to take my cats to the vet because I know that those times will be sometime in the afternoon on any given weekday.

     I kept a close eye on Gypsy and Stormy for any signs of grieving from them. I’ve been upbeat for them so that they don’t think that they’re next. I think that’s why I’m waiting so long to take them to the vet. I don’t want them to think that they are not returning home after their visit.

     I think Stormy felt the loss more than Gypsy if I go by outward appearances and behavior. Gypsy did what she’s always done: eat and sleep. Stormy, on the other hand, kept by my side instead of hiding away upstairs during the day. Even now, she is here in the living room, sleeping nearby. The only way I could say Gypsy feels the loss is that she has been obsessed with eating, lately. She’s always loved food: my food, her food, anybody’s food; however, recently (since Moky died), she has been, at times, annoying, with her cries for food. The cats have access to dry food 24/7-365. When it’s time to eat the canned food (Fancy Feast, the seafood classic flavors), I set a timer every morning and every night to allow the refrigerated portions to warm a bit. Gypsy can’t seem to wait for the timer to beep. She will sit or lie on my lap until that timer’s five beeps sound. I use the timer for various tasks, and whenever it goes off, Gypsy looks in the direction of the kitchen and then at me and mews (and mews and mews . . . ). I tell her that the timer is for me, not for her. She still cries for food. However, I do have to admit that when the task-timer sounds, her cries aren’t as pleading as when she knows she’s waiting to be fed.

     We (Gypsy, Stormy, and I) are grieving in our own ways, I guess. I’m making sure that Gypsy and Stormy know that I love them very much and that I will make sure they are cared for. Having my girls nearby while I’m at home comforts me, too. I know they love me, and I know they know I love them. We can take comfort in knowing that Moky and Bella (and my mom) are here with us in spirit.

Bella

Bella

     When I had four cats, Bella was the youngest of the brood. I dubbed her birthday as December 19th, 2010, because I discovered her behind the bathroom wall on January 19th, 2011. I knew she had to be at least a month old because she knew how to use a litter box: she knew what it was and used it accordingly. When she was born, I was out of town, visiting family for the holidays. Bella was not the offspring of any of my other cats; she was born to the resident stray, Jasmine.

     In the early morning hours of January 19th, 2011, while I was in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, I heard loud, high-pitched mews. At first, I thought it was one of my three cats (Moky, Gypsy, or Stormy), and I thought one of them was in the cabinet under the sink. I opened the cabinet doors and peered into the cabinet, but no cat was in there. I performed a cat-check, making sure all cats were accounted for. My next line of thinking was whether my cats were injured or in pain; no, they weren’t. Who was making that sound? Where was that sound coming from?

     When I heard the meowing again, I realized that it was coming from behind the bathroom wall – behind the toilet. During the previous summer, the maintenance guys came in to fix a water leak and, subsequently, knocked out a section of the wall behind the toilet, but they never came back to repair/rebuild the wall. I had to “repair” it myself, placing a piece of plywood behind the toilet. The plywood fit perfectly because part of the toilet tank was nearly snug against the wall (repositioned somewhat to level it out).

     I used to keep my bathroom door open during the night-time preparations, so all the cats would walk in and out of the bathroom as they pleased. When I realized the meowing was coming from behind the plywood piece (behind the wall), I “kicked” the cats out of the bathroom and closed the door. I removed the plywood piece, bent down, and peered into the hole. Staring back at me was a wide-eyed kitten. At first, she was wary of me, and she backed away a little. I wanted to get her out of the hole, but with the way the toilet was positioned, reaching for the kitten (who was backing away from me) would have been impossible for me. I had to use a tactic that would entice the kitten to come into the bathroom: I used a towel. Grabbing one end of the towel, I swished the other end outward toward the kitten and then slowly dragged the towel back toward me. I did this a few times so as to pique the kitten’s curiosity enough that she would follow the towel. It worked!

     Bella followed the towel into the bathroom and away from the wall’s hole and the toilet. Once she was in the middle of the room, I securely refit the plywood piece over the hole so that she couldn’t leave the same way she came in. My heart pounded from the moment I peered into those cute kitty eyes to the thought of what I was going to do with her. I hadn’t touched her until I secured a bed for her. I wiped her down with a wet washcloth to remove any of the debris she may have picked up as she wandered around the inner labyrinth between the apartments.

Bella the Kitten

      I also placed a small cardboard box (a soda lug) with litter in the bathroom, along with a bowl of water and a dish of food. Bella slept in the bathroom that night, sans the other cats for obvious reasons. Little did I know, at the time, that she would spend the rest of her life with me and the feline members of the family. At that moment, I didn’t have any idea what to do with her. I didn’t think I could keep her because I already had one more cat than I was supposedly allowed to have. Before I went to sleep for the night, I decided I would take her to the local humane society the next day. Fortunately, for me and for Bella, the local humane society couldn’t take her because she was too young; she had to be at least two months old.

Bella's First Video

     When I asked one of the volunteers at the humane society about taking the kitten, I was told she (Bella) had to be at least two months old. The volunteer also told me that even if they could take her, Bella probably would be put to sleep because of an overcrowding problem there. I said I would try to find a home for her, and if I couldn’t, I would probably keep her. I hope I never have to return to that place again. I believe in being truthful, but I don’t think the volunteer should have told me about Bella’s possible demise. What does that make me think about the local humane society? It makes me think it is a ruthless place. I wish they could turn the place into a no-kill shelter; then, at least, I would’ve been told it didn’t have room at that time to take Bella in.

     When I got back into the car, I told Bella she was going to be living with me. Back at the apartment, I put Bella into the bathroom and made sure she had enough food, water, and clean surroundings to satisfy her. She lived in the bathroom for about a month. My next step was acclimating her to her fellow feline friends (Moky, Gypsy, and Stormy). They were eager to meet their new sibling, but I knew that adjusting to her would take some time.

     Bella had her “outings” to meet the family, and the family responded with the usual hissing and growling from Moky and Gypsy; Stormy just stared at Bella as if she was some odd duck that entered the room. Kittens usually don’t care about who’s in the room with them; everything to a kitten is susceptible to play. She treated the others as playmates even if the others wanted nothing to do with her. I engaged all the cats in playtime when I let Bella roam the apartment. That way, they were able to adjust to her presence more easily.

     Bella was quite the curious kitten and as active as any kitten is. I made several videos of Bella and certain objects because of her rapt attention to them. To name a few: Bella and the Slipper, Bella and the Cursor Arrow, Bella and the Laser Beam,  and Bella and the Games for Cats app (on the iPad). 

Bella and the Cursor Arrow

     Because Bella was acclimated  to the other cats in a gradual fashion, Moky, Gypsy, and Stormy had an easier time getting to know her. Actually, Moky (my anti-social cat) steered clear of Bella when he could. I can just imagine what he thought, ‘What was Mommy thinking bringing in another girl!’ He also steered clear of Stormy and Gypsy when I adopted them.  Gypsy finally stopped growling and hissing at Bella. Stormy, finally, stopped staring at Bella like she was an alien from another planet. At first, I thought Stormy was playing the guardian of Bella because she stayed close by without actually interacting with Bella. However, now, I think Stormy was just curious and simply watched Bella’s antics. Stormy is more the mom-figure in the family because of her licking obsession. Yes, all (or most) cats lick themselves, but Stormy, if given the chance, will lick her fellow felines and me. She will lick us until one of us moves out of the way.

     Bella became a member of the family, and the adjustment was smooth for her, for her “siblings,” and for me. When Bella was finally allowed to mingle, socialize, and sleep with the other cats, she chose Stormy as her cuddle-buddy. This was probably because Stormy is the closest to her, age-wise. Stormy was four years old when I found Bella. Like Stormy did when she was a kitten, Bella snuggled with Moky and Gypsy AFTER they fell asleep. This was (and still is) the safest way to sleep with the enemy.

       Bella’s meow sounded painful, at times, and, at first, I wondered if this was a medical condition. The veterinarian didn’t find Bella’s meows disconcerting, so I figured that this is just how Bella was. Her meow sounded strained. I kept thinking she was in trouble, that she had gotten stuck in a cabinet or was too afraid to come down from a high place. After a while, I realized that this was just how Bella talked.

       When I moved from the old apartment to the new one (not so new now because I’ve been living here for over two years), Bella adjusted quickly to her new surroundings. She was still a kitten, after all, and anything new was an adventure to explore. She quickly found the space above the kitchen cabinets and settled in there. She loved running on the carpet and up and down the stairs. She loved lying on the window perches and looking out at the birds that flitted about. The old apartment had windows, but the view was of the parking lot and the other apartment building. The new apartment’s views are of the backyard and of the duplexes surrounding mine. The view is definitely an improvement because we (the cats and I) can see far beyond the immediate areas.

Bella on the Windowsill

        When Bella cuddled with me, she would first knead me. She would fall into a trance of sorts and knead with a consistent motion. Then, she would lie down and sleep for a bit. She always awakened when one of the other cats would stop by to visit me. She was a young cat who didn’t want to miss out on any opportunity to play or socialize with the other cats.

Bella Kneads Me

       Bella’s favorite pastime was playing the Games for Cats app I have on my iPad. Whenever I pulled out the device, Bella would come onto the desk and look imploringly at the device and then at me. Then, she would meow, as if asking, “Can I play with the mouse?” I usually gave in and opened the app, selected the mouse, and set the iPad on the desk so Bella could try to catch the elusive mouse.

Bella and the iPad game

Bella and the Games for Cats app

       All of that playing came to a screeching halt last November when Bella became sick. I had to attend a conference in Houston last November. When I came home, three of the four cats greeted me at the door. Bella was nowhere to be found. Off I went in search of her because something is amiss when even one cat is not at the door to welcome me home. Bella was lying on a blanket-covered set of drawers in my bedroom. She meowed, happy to see me, but she didn’t get up. At first, I wasn’t too concerned because my cats sleep the most during the day, and that is when I arrived home. I picked her up and hugged her. Then, I took her downstairs. She jumped up on the counter and laid there, near the water fountain. Still, this is not unusual. What was unusual for Bella was that she was not running around, chasing the laser beam or one of her siblings. She chose every opportunity to lie down.

       I called the vet Monday morning, and the receptionist told me I could bring Bella in on Thursday morning, at 9 A.M. I monitored Bella throughout the week. I made sure she had enough food and water. She slept often, too much even for a cat. I had to go to work, and while I was at work, I worried about her. By Wednesday night, Bella was in the worst shape I had ever seen. She was having breathing problems. At one point, she was lying at the top of the stairs and looking down at me. I ran upstairs to comfort her. I brought her food and water. Gypsy promptly ate the food, and Moky did his best to drink the water. In hindsight, I should’ve put Bella in the upstairs bathroom with a bed, a litter box, and dishes of food and water, just to keep the other cats from eating her food and drinking her water.

       When I thought she was at her worst, I frantically searched online for a local vet that was open or available for emergencies. I’m sad to say no such clinic exists locally for our furry friends. Since I couldn’t take her to a vet or animal hospital, the next best recourse was to be by her side throughout the night. I put a blanket on the floor next to my bed, with her food and water nearby. When I got into bed, Bella managed to come onto the bed and lie down at my feet. I had a very restless night because I kept waking up and wondering if Bella was still alive. Every time I awakened, I checked to see if Bella was still on the bed; she was. When I awakened for the day (Thursday, November 15, 2013), I already had it set in my head not to wait until her 9 A.M. appointment to take her to the vet but to take her when it opened at 8 A.M. I didn’t want to waste any more time than I already had. If I had known that she would worsen, symptom-wise, by mid-week, I would’ve taken her to the vet at the beginning of the week.

       Fortunately, the vet’s office was not busy at opening time, so Bella was examined right away. The doctor took some blood and ran a few tests. The diagnosis was the feline leukemia virus (FLV). Bella was in the advanced stage (stage 4) of the disease. All of her internal organs had been severely affected by the virus. Hope of a cure was gone. Bella was suffering greatly even though she was relatively quiet about it. The doctor told me there was nothing more that could be done to save Bella’s life. Now, I had to make the decision to keep her on life support or have her put to sleep. On life support, she still wouldn’t be able to come home to live with me and her siblings, and she would never be able to play again. It was a temporary solution to a terminal illness. I decided, then, that she would be better off in Heaven even though I would miss her terribly.

       The doctor also told me that the FLV was highly contagious to other cats (not contagious at all to humans). That news raised several red flags: Moky, Gypsy, and Stormy were all in contact with Bella almost from the first day I found her. Wednesday night, Gypsy slept in the same room with Bella, and Stormy licked Bella’s head. Moky drank from her water dish, and Gypsy ate from Bella’s food dish. Then, panic struck, and I feared my other cats would succumb to this terrible disease. The doctor told me the other three cats had to be tested for the FLV. He also told me that there was a strong chance the other cats would test negative for the virus because they are older cats, and older cats have a stronger immune system. I was relieved to hear that. Stormy  was the youngest of the three cats (5 years old at the time), so I was worried about her contracting the virus from Bella.

       Saturday of that week, my friend Nelda helped me take the cats to the vet to be tested for the FLV. It turned out that Bella’s test was the last one the office had in stock. I was exasperated then because the receptionist should’ve made it a point to check for more tests in stock and could’ve told me Thursday that there were no more tests on the shelves. I waited another week and took the three cats in the Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving. Thankfully, all three cats tested negative for the FLV. Moky, Gypsy, and Stormy also received their annual rabies vaccinations during these visits.

Negative FLV Tests for Moky, Gypsy, and Stormy

        I cried from the day Bella died to well into the new year (2013). She was a part of my family for just a short time (almost two years), but she was a joy to have in my family (as are Moky, Gypsy, and Stormy). I never experienced something as tragic as this, and I never imagined that I would go through something so devastating to me. I went through the scenario over and over in my head – could I have done something to prevent her from getting sick in the first place? The doctor told me he figured Bella had the gene – that it was hereditary – that she had gotten it from one of her parents. That lessened the pain of wondering if I could’ve done anything to keep her from getting sick, but I don’t think it lessened the grief I felt.

       The doctor gave me three options as to what I wanted to do with Bella’s body. I could take her home and bury her in the yard, I could leave her there to be buried with other dead pets, or I could have her cremated and take her ashes home with me. I opted to have her cremated because I couldn’t bear to have her buried with other animals, and I couldn’t bury her in my yard because I’m renting this place. About two weeks after her death, the vet’s office receptionist called to tell me Bella’s ashes were ready to be picked up. Her ashes were contained in a suede-felt bag and placed in a decorative, wooden box. I put the box on the shelf in the living room. Her box now sits next to my mom’s box. In a sense, Bella still resides with us.

       In less than a month, the first-year anniversary of Bella’s death will be upon us. I knew I had to write this post and publish it before that anniversary arrived, but I didn’t realize how long it would take me to post it in the Catz-n-Tam blog. I started this post in August, and I didn’t get a chance to finish it until October. I thought I could finish it earlier, but once school begins, I am too busy to do other tasks unrelated to school/work. I’ve been very busy with teaching, grading, and other work-related activities. I also thought I would have a difficult time writing this particular post because it was about Bella. When I started the post in August, I relived the memories, and I had to put it off because of the welled-up emotions that started to surface. In a sense, I’m glad the semester’s tasks took hold because they helped me cope with the memories. They didn’t erase the memories; thankfully, nothing can take those memories away.

Bella on the Cabinet

Stormy

     Stormy is five years old. She is a gray-striped tabby of the American domestic short-hair variety. She is a big cat, and I’ve always known that she would be a big cat by the size of her paws when she was a kitten. When Stormy wants to be affectionate, she tends to be over-affectionate. I think a lot of this has to do with her size. She weighs at least 12 pounds (as of November 2012). I usually put a thick towel on my lap when Stormy comes to visit so she doesn’t hurt me when she walks on me. With a towel on my lap, Stormy is more apt to lie down and stay awhile, too. She cannot, however, just lie down and sleep. She needs to lick, either herself or me.

     Stormy is a licker. Since she was a kitten, she has been the cat who licks the most. She licks herself (like a typical cat does), she licks the other cats (if they let her), and she licks me. Usually, Moky and Gypsy allow Stormy to lick them when they are sleepy. If they allowed her to lick them when they were awake, Stormy would be one happy cat. When Stormy lies on my lap, she tries to lick my arms and fingers. I usually place my left arm in front of her so she can lick it. She will lick for a long time. I often have to move my arm away from Stormy, especially when harmless licking becomes hurtful. 

     Stormy is a hugger. Okay, she doesn’t exactly initiate the hugging, but she does stand still on my lap while I hug her. Stormy is also the cat who knows when I’m upset or sad. When I am sad (as when Bella died and then after my mom died), Stormy comes to me and nudges me and then lies down on my lap and looks up at me. This is not to be mistaken for those times she lies on my lap to lick my arms or fingers. Occasionally, when I’m sad, I prefer to lie down and sleep. Stormy will lie on the bed until my nap is over; then, she stays close by until the sadness passes. This is her loving side. Her mothering instincts kick in not only when I’m sad; Stormy’s mommy-side comes out when she wants to lick Moky or Gypsy. Unfortunately, for Stormy, the other two don’t want her to pay that kind of attention to them. 

      Stormy loves cat carriers. Most cats (like Moky and Gypsy) hate cat carriers. Stormy loves cat carriers because that’s where she spent most of her kittenhood. When she was just a month or so old, she lived in the small blue carrier in my bedroom, and it was equipped with a bed, a litter box, and bowls of water and dry food. For a kitten, it was the perfect-sized home. She graduated to a larger carrier as she grew bigger. Eventually, I bought a large crate (36” x 36”) to accommodate her. At night, she could not roam free in my home because she was quite active, so she had to live in the crate so I could sleep at night. Throughout Stormy’s childhood, I often told her former owner (a friend and colleague of mine) that she named Stormy appropriately because Stormy was a storm of activity while she was growing up.

Stormy trying to climb onto ironing board

     Stormy loves thunderstorms. See, I told you she was aptly named. When storms are approaching, Gypsy and Moky hide. Stormy stays put, usually on her hammock-scratcher. When a storm arrives and the other two cats have safely hidden themselves from the boisterous thunder and striking lightning, Stormy is at the window, looking out at the storm. The only time I’ve seen her run and hide is when the thunder booms immediately after the lightning strikes. That’s understandable since that volume of sound even makes me jump. For any animal, a sudden, loud sound is frightening. 

     Stormy is the anti-social cat of the family. She keeps to herself throughout the day and night. She will visit me when she feels like it. This is the behavior most people talk about when they say that cats are anti-social. Not all cats display this behavior. When I have visitors, Stormy runs upstairs and hides until she thinks it’s safe to come out. Sometimes, her curiosity gets the best of her, and she stops at the top of the stairs to see who is at the door. Even if the visitor is well-known by the cats, Stormy will not make an appearance for several minutes.

     Stormy hates change. Actually, most cats don’t care for change; they prefer a normal routine (much like humans do). When I moved in early 2011, Stormy was traumatized by the moving process. She hid or tried to hide from me. The problem with hiding is that Stormy is too big to do it. She tried to hide behind a chair, in a corner of the room. I merely had to stoop down and look into the corner to see her. Wide-eyed (the look of fear or shock in most cats), Stormy stared back. To calm her down, I left her alone. That way she would know that all was well because no one was in the room, and no one was making any noise. One evening, after my helpers left for the day, I went about the routine of packing up my stuff, steering clear of the back room where Stormy was hiding because I wanted her to know that the coast was clear. 

     Stormy was particularly traumatized by the move. The night I moved the cats to the new place, I knew that the ride there would be stressful for my cats. While they were eating supper in the living room, I closed all the doors that led to all the rooms so that the only places my cats could wander to were the hallway, the living room, or the kitchen.

     Since Stormy loves cat carriers, I knew she would be okay when I put her in hers. However, I had to be stealthy in getting the other cats into the carriers. I put two carriers in the back room and made sure their top doors were open (and closed the back room’s door), and I put the other carrier in the living room (also with its top door open). At meal time, Stormy is always the cat who finishes eating first. As soon as she finished, I picked her up and put her in one of the carriers in the back room. She was content to stay in the carrier, which pleased me because I had three more cats that had to be contained for the ride to the new place. With the other cats, I have to pick them up and walk backwards into a darkened room to put them peacefully into a cat carrier (especially true for Moky).

     The cats’ ride over to the new place was musical. Stormy and Bella just remained quiet while Moky and Gypsy sang to me while I drove. When I put all the carriers in the hallway of the new place, I opened the carriers' doors. Bella and Moky immediately emerged from the carriers and set out to explore their new digs. Gypsy stayed in the carrier for a few minutes longer before she warily walked out. She, too, started exploring her new surroundings. 

     Stormy would not come out of her carrier. She did her best to stay plastered to the back wall of the carrier, and nothing I did could coax her from her “security blanket.” I moved the Stormy-filled carrier to the living room in order to help her deal with the process. She stayed in the carrier for several hours. When I went upstairs to sleep, she was still in her carrier. The next morning, when I went downstairs, I saw an empty  carrier. Stormy found a new hiding place behind my computer desk. Since the move more than two years ago, Stormy always runs upstairs whenever she hears the doorbell or someone knocking on the front door. 

     One day, last week, a ticket-selling teenager rang the doorbell and rapped on the door several times. Stormy ran and hid. Afterwards, while Gypsy and Moky were eating their breakfast, I called for Stormy, but she didn’t come to eat. I thought she was upstairs, so I searched there for her. When I couldn’t find her, panic crept in, and I thought maybe she got out while I was talking to the teen. I realized, then, that she was hiding somewhere in the apartment because I would’ve noticed if she tried to get out through the front door. I calmed down, yet I still called out her name in hopes she would appear soon. About 20 minutes later, I heard a rustling noise behind me while I was working at the computer. When I got up and walked toward the sound, Stormy poked her head out from under the end table. I was ecstatic to see her, and I picked her up and hugged her. By the look on her face, she was probably wondering what the big deal was.

      Stormy is the linebacker of the family. By that, I mean she plays rougher than Moky or Gypsy. I’m not sure if she knows how strong she is when she plays. I often worry about Moky and Gypsy when Stormy is chasing them because I’m afraid she’ll catch up to them and hurt them. I should not be worried because all three cats end up safe and sound. When Gypsy tires of Stormy’s chasing, she hisses at Stormy. This is cat-code for “lay off!” Moky just whines and occasionally growls at Stormy. Sometimes, the roles are reversed, and Moky or Gypsy chase Stormy. All is well on the home front.

     Stormy is cautious with certain objects. Her least favorite object is a portable fan that I have. The fan measures about 3 - 4 inches high and resembles a person. It’s battery operated, and the propeller blades are located on the “face” of the fan. The blades are made of foam (like the foam sheets at a crafts store). When I turn on the fan and Stormy is nearby, she will stare at it and somewhat back away from it. I always hold the fan so that the blades face me. Then, she slowly, cautiously approaches it and tries to bat at it with her paw. I’m usually holding the portable fan, so I feel the brunt of her paw-slaps. Stormy has a paw-slap that’s so powerful she has turned off the fan by swiping at the power switch on the back of it. 

     Stormy is wary when it comes to things she’s never seen before, but that can probably be said about most cats. The other night, I pulled out my ancient Sunbeam Automatic Egg Cooker (circa 1970s) to hard-boil two eggs. Once the machine starts cooking, steam rises out of two slots on the lid. Stormy was peacefully lying on her hammock-scratcher when she heard the steam pouring out of the cooker. She rose from her “bed” and jumped up on the counter to see what was going on. [Is anyone else thinking about the Christmas poem, T’was the Night Before Christmas?] When she saw the steaming cooker, she sat down on the counter across from it and stared at the steaming entity. I told her to stay away from it. Because she didn’t know what the thing was, she steered clear of it. Had she approached it, I can just imagine her batting the machine like she used to do with the little fan.

Sunbeam Automatic Egg Cooker

      Stormy loves her hammock-scratcher. She loves it so much that I’ve had to get her a new one after less than a year’s use of the old one. I don’t have a problem with her scratching other objects (like I do with Moky) or scratching the carpeting upstairs (like I do with Gypsy) because Stormy scratches only the objects made for that purpose. I keep a curved scratcher on the bottom stair, and when we walk downstairs for breakfast (not necessarily in the morning, mind you), Stormy stops at that scratcher and scratches it! Yay!!! I wish the other two cats would do the same. 

     Stormy is very much loved. She brightens my day. Stormy is friendly in her own way;  she just needs a little more time to adjust to her surroundings. 

[original post: 08/02/13; revised 05/03/14]