This young man was in Ad Seg when I stopped into the vet's office and we took the elevator, vet and I, to the floor where the abandoned, strays, found ferals are all kept in large cages. It is the Dante's Infurrno
version of cat Hades. The cages are vertical with shelves and every single cat is black. People do not want black cats, until around October 29 as Halloween approaches, then black cats become a novelty act and particularly in this period, respsonbile shelters will not adopt out black cats for nefarious purposes. Knowing this, I left my broomstick outside on the curb, because I had intended to bring home a 2nd black cat for my lonely fluffy boy.
This was a cold November day and Mr. B spent long days at home while I was out working. Since he was less than a year, I thought he might need companionship. My previous cat had died a few months earlier, I've never lived without a cat except under duress or in transit, it's almost like feeling a limb is missing. Unfortunately (for some, not for me) I speak cat and cats understand, they can build and recall a small vocabulary list of repeated words and behaviours. They only ask for small favors, a clean place to pee, a warm place in the winter and food. Love is something they tolerate and dish out when it suits them.
This little guy was born with sky blue eyes and squeaked. He was unable to meow for 2 years, but he squeaked constantly. He also had stool that smelled so bad, he reeked all over. He was bathed at least once a week just so we could tolerate him. The first cat wanted nothing to do with him. I took him back to the vet and brought a bloody stool sample that she sent up to be tested by the techs and they said, 'no blood in here' but I saw it day in and day out- bloody mucus - as I cleaned their box. I tried changing from the food they insisted I feed them (super expensive) to something that was organic-still stunk to high heaven. Now first cat was whacking him and chasing him to get out of the room, to take himself somewhere, anywhere but near Mr. B.
But he was just a kitten and needed cuddling, actually he needed his mother and it turned out he was a litter reject, a runt. He has a limited diet of 'sensitive stomach food' and eats tiny portions more often than a larger meal 1-2x a day. That is, he was on a regime until we moved and he discovered the Great Outdoors.
The Great Outdoors is 3 steps off our porch in the back of the house where the cars park beneath huge old trees and there is all kinds of grass growing through cracks in the cement and along the side of the steps. His first foray off the porch was tentative, but the smell and taste of grass was intoxicating for him.
So now, he spends the evenings as much as possible on the window sill impatiently waiting to be allowed outside, so he can graze. He is very particular, sniffing here and there, rejecting a stalk that looks good to me and this connoisseur brushes past it on to the next tangle of greens. It seems he likes Grass, not skunk cabbage or dandelion greens, no little cat tails or floral buds.
He finds a patch, splays flat on his belly, gets comfortable and begins to gnaw, grabbing a blade and tries to rip it out, but is content to chew as much as he can, pulling it into his mouth. Before you call the animal protection society, this is a tension release for our little Goat. He comfort eats. Mr. B will eat a tsp of food and walk away. When our calico neighbor comes sauntering by and sits down close to the house but far enough to feel she wont be bothered, he bounds and skips over to her and stops short of 6 inches from her face-cat speak for HIYA, I MISSED YA, HOWYA DOIN and throws himself down close to her to see if she's in a good mood. Since her motivation is hunger, not friendship, she's usually tense until fed and after eating proceeds to delicately lick every toe and whisker as she washes her face. While she performs her ablutions, Goat will stay close and find anything to make himself busy, busy work he looks for in the form of grass, so that if and when she deigns to look his way, she wont think he's there waiting for her, the indignity of it all!
Since this shidduch isnt moving along too quickly I've brought out catnip, before the rains came and remain, and she loves it. She gets so loosey and distracted that she rollls around and little Goat stumbles real close to sniff at her and then he gets to sit next to her until the buzz wears off and she realizes her tummy fluff is exposed and vulnerable with two males watching (both neutered).
Little Goat is only interested in friendship...love would be a dream come true, since only on special occasionas, like a crescent moon or full eclipse of the sun, does Mr. B wash Goat's face and neck, whomp him around, chase him and play with him. Mr. B is like an old man who wants nothing more than to warm his feet by the fire with his pipe (filled with bongo) lit and me singing his favorite cat songs. Little Goat befriended squirrels while living in NY, so when he saw them chasing each other through tree limbs and up into gutters, he thought the same crowd had followed him to his new home.
But PA squirrels are a treacherous bunch-I've seen them go into birds nests and grab eggs, they're worse than stray cats. Even with screeching blud jays or cardinals, they fly around so fast with their little furled tails rippling in the wind. Little Goat forgot himself yesterday and seeing a squirrel nearby, dropped a mouthful of grass and took off half way across the car park until he realized he was on unknown territory and scrambled back.
He's so relaxed after an hour of gazing and grazing he sleeps like the baby that he really is.
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