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]

Gypsy

Gypsy

      Last night, I was minding my own business, playing my bevy of Facebook games, when Gypsy, who had been snoozing a foot away on the pink towel-covered Kit-n-Box stretched-walked over to my lap to finish catnapping. Whenever she lies down on my lap after being on the ‘Box, I say something to the effect that she has come all the way over to my lap from the Kit-n-Box. Gypsy purrs her response to my comical statement. 

 

By far, Gypsy is the cat who purrs the most (and the loudest) in my household. While I’m typing this paragraph, she is on my lap, purring and kneading. Because of her sharp claws (and my unwillingness to trim them), I always have a towel on my lap when Gypsy comes to visit, so, here and now, she is contentedly lying on my lap, trying to get comfy as she pushes herself so that she is right up against my left arm; she prefers to rest her head on my left arm.
 

 

     Gypsy will turn 13 years old on August 3rd. I adopted her in the spring of 2001 from a classmate (during my graduate studies years). My classmate rescued Gypsy from a neighbor who treated her poorly. As a result, by the time Gypsy turned six months old, she had already had a litter of kittens because of the neighbor’s mistreatment. My classmate rescued Gypsy afterwards. I think the cruel neighbor had already gotten rid of Gypsy’s kittens, but I just don’t know the specifics there (and I’m not sure I want to know). My classmate paid the vet costs, and Gypsy was spayed and had all her required vaccinations. She told me she could not keep Gypsy and was looking for a good home for her. Then, she asked me if I wanted to take Gypsy home. When it comes to cats, I’m a pushover, so I told my classmate that I would adopt Gypsy.

     I remember the day I brought Gypsy home. My classmate and I met in the parking lot of a toy store that was right off the expressway (easier to meet there than try to find my classmate’s home). I brought along Moky’s cat carrier (sans Moky), and Gypsy rode quietly home in the carrier. When I put the cat carrier on the floor of my home, Moky sniffed at the carrier and then at Gypsy and hissed and growled. He was not very happy to have to share me with Gypsy. I put the cat carrier in my bedroom and closed the door. I wanted Gypsy to adjust to her new surroundings without Moky’s presence. Then, I let Gypsy walk out of the carrier. I laid down on my bed, and Gypsy jumped on the bed and snuggled up next to me. We napped together for a while.

     After that first day, Gypsy tried to play with Moky, but he usually didn’t want to have anything to do with her. Moky made it a point to circumvent Gypsy whenever he had to walk from one end of the room to the other. Gypsy would bat at Moky if he came near enough to her, and she seemed to enjoy teasing Moky just to get him to whine. She still does that on occasion. While Moky is trying to jump down from my desk, Gypsy swipes at him. I usually tell her that Moky doesn’t need her help.

     Gypsy is also the cat that sleeps the most. A well-known fact about cats is that, on average, they sleep about 16 hours a day. That is definitely true of Gypsy. Her favorite sleeping spots are the plastic bin by the living room window, the L-shape part of my desk, the Kit-n-Box, the old backpack, the bottom shelf beside the computer desk, various spots in my bedroom, on my lap, and next to me while I’m sleeping. Daytime hours are snoozing hours for most cats, but Gypsy sleeps all hours of the day and night. When she’s awake, she’s eating or using the litter box or frolicking with the other cats, but her waking moments are just that – moments. Generally, most people think of a catnap as a short period of time, but if I measured a catnap based on how long Gypsy sleeps at any one time, I’d say a catnap is anywhere from three to five hours. I’m willing to bet that a catnap is longer than what most people think it is.

 

      Gypsy is self-entertaining. After Gypsy has a snack or sip of milk (lactose-free, of course), she walks upstairs and runs in the hallway. When I hear her footfalls (pawfalls), I think that more than one cat is up there, that maybe she’s chasing Stormy, or Stormy is chasing her, but when I survey the living room and I see both Stormy and Moky, I realize that only Gypsy is making all that noise. I’m amazed she can make that much noise because, of the three cats, she is the smallest. Her small size does not hinder her ability to make a lot of noise. She has these bursts of energy that cause heads to turn (mostly mine). I have no doubt that the catnaps fuel her runs. 

      Gypsy is sometimes mischievous. She enjoys teasing Moky and Stormy, and she welcomes a chase and sometimes initiates that chase. She can be very silly and playful. She gets this look in her eyes when I play with her. This look is different than the feed-me stare and definitely different than the sleepy look. When I move my hand in front of her or touch her tail when she is in a playful mood, she looks downward at my hand, and I can tell that at any moment, she’s going to bat at my hand. When she becomes silly, she is often lying down and putting her front paws over her head. When she is in a box (Gypsy loves boxes!) and in a playful mood, she will turn around in the box. Sometimes, I tap on the outside of the box because I know it will make her turn around in it. She uses her back paws to start the process, and she will turn around several times in the box. It’s quite a hilarious sight to behold.

      Sometimes, Gypsy likes to play with the Crazy Circle or the catnip ball. The Crazy Circle is a round plastic toy that contains a ball that cannot be removed by the cats. When the ball is batted by a paw (or my finger), it runs around the circle until it stops on its own or until a paw (or finger) stops it. Gypsy plays more with the Crazy Circle than the other two cats do. the catnip ball is kind of a heavy ball that’s a little bigger than a golf ball. It is made purely of catnip. The ball’s surface is very hard, but it can be picked apart by the cats. Occasionally, I find bits of catnip that I know came from that ball because the pieces I find are hard. When Gypsy attacks the catnip ball, she bats at it and chases it (typical cat behavior).

     Like Moky, Gypsy talks, but, according to the vet, this is normal for older cats. She talks to me when she wants me to give her a snack, and she talks to me to wake me up from my night’s sleep so that I will feed her (usually breakfast). She also talks to herself. Usually, when she mutters to herself, she is waiting for me to feed her. However, I’ve noticed, too, that she talks a great deal upstairs while I’m downstairs. I imagine she is complaining that the litter boxes are dirty, so I do my best to keep them clean.

     Unlike Moky, Gypsy’s meowing is soft. Moky bellows while Gypsy softly squeaks. Still, I answer her when she talks. Normally, Gypsy’s meows are soft, but when I take her to the vet, she has a special meow she reserves just for the ride over. This meow is much different than her normal voice; for starters, it’s louder. This meow is anxious and worried. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she knows, in her head, that it can’t be good because we never go anywhere except to the vet (with the exception of moving her from my old apartment to my newer one). Like Moky, she is quiet on our return home. Unlike Moky, Gypsy only meows on the way to the vet. Once we get into the office area, she is quiet again. I think she is still anxious and worried, but she’s not vocal about it like Moky is.

     When I had to take Moky, Gypsy, and Stormy to the vet for their FLV tests last November (2012), my friend helped me. She rode in the car with me. The three cats, in their respective carriers, were in the backseat. My friend told me she had no idea that Gypsy could make the loud meows she was making on the ride to the vet. I reassured her that Gypsy makes these same sounds each time I take her to the vet. As far as cats and people are concerned, anxiety and worry make everyone talk differently.

     Gypsy is my moocher. She is the cat that stares at me when it’s nearly time to eat. She is the cat that will sit directly in front of me while I’m eating a meal or a snack, stare at me, and open and close her mouth (I call it the fish-mouth method because she opens and closes her mouth ever so slightly like a fish does when it is breathing) in anticipation that I’m going to give her a piece of whatever I’m eating. Most of the time, I don’t share my meals or snacks with her. However, when I’m eating roasted chicken, I do usually give her a few tiny pieces of it (all three cats get some of that chicken).

      Gypsy has a built-in meal clock. Like clockwork, she comes to me or sits nearby and stares at me when it is almost supper time. She doesn’t utter a “word” or do the fish-mouth thing; she just sits and stares until I notice her. Sometimes, she lies on my lap and purrs. At this moment, I am reminded of a saying, “There is no snooze button on a cat who wants breakfast.” Sometimes, that saying is true, especially when I think of Gypsy’s meal clock.

     Gypsy is a patient cat . . . to a point. Don’t we all have patience to a point? When she’s waiting to be fed, she is fairly patient about the wait. Sometimes, she falls asleep while waiting for me to feed her. Wow! That’s true patience! I realize that not very many people would consider falling asleep to signify patience, but I think that is what sleeping is, in this respect; if we can fall asleep while waiting, we are continuing to practice that patience in a less troubling way. People who have lost patience become troubled and irritated. There is no sleeping for impatient people because they want whatever it is now. Occasionally, my cats lose their patience with me. When Gypsy tires of waiting and wants something to be done, she bugs me by pawing me and meowing her concerns. If she can wait, she does so quietly.

     Gypsy is the middle “child” in my family. She is perfectly content to live with me and her siblings, and I am perfectly happy to oblige. Even though her nemesis is Stormy, she doesn’t mind Stormy lying next to her. When the two of them are fighting, it doesn’t last very long. They, for the most part, get along with each other. I think Moky does like his sisters even though, at times, he seems irritated with them. I guess we are just one medium-sized happy family.