The 'Kids'

A little break from the recipe spree.  I thought I'd show off my current 'kids'.  They're adopted.  They're my cats.

Yes, I won't deny it.  I do call them my kids.  After all I do raise, feed, and shelter them.  I teach them, play with them, and love them.  I have no illusions that they are really my children.  They're much easier to care for than real children.  Ha.  And I try not to spoil them.  Limits on toy purchases.  They're quite happy with a ball made of paper or a milk ring.  Though we do have a few toy mice and a tunnel.  Don't think they need their own special bed or need to have canned food everyday.  We do let them catch a taste of people food once in awhile, little beggers.  And technically, they're not allowed on tables and countertops.  Though I swear these latest group seem more defiant about it.

Alright, if I'm not careful, I'll just keep talking about them.  We'll try to be brief!

This is Gandalf.  She is 'Dan's cat'.  Moved in with Dan when he moved here to live with me.  That's a very rare picture of her.  Hard to get.  I was only able to get three shots off before she got paranoid about me being in her personal space and left.  She's not sociable at all.  It took her nearly four years before she'd allow me pet her.  And even now, it's only for a short time.  She likes things on her own terms.  Most times she wants to be left alone.  She only wants attention when she asks for it.  So most of the time she's hiding under the bed or in the closet and only comes out to sit in her corner like she is now at night.  And only comes out for attention when the other cats are zonked out asleep.  She has no love for any other cat.  Though I have seen her sneak a play swat at Fiver from time to time only to hiss at her a second later when Fiver tries to respond playfully in kind.  Unfortunately for her, because she runs away from the younger cats when they bother her, they love to chase her.  These days, she's the grumpy old lady of the house.

This is the handsome man.  This is Genghis Khan Noonian Singh.  Khan, for short, and yes, we're total nerds.  Too smart for his own good, we had to buy him toys.  Never had to buy a cat toys before because I never had a cat this smart before.  If he didn't have toys he'd easily get bored and start ripping and knocking things.  Actually, he still does.  Like a dog.  Yep, I call him my puppy too.  And like a dog, he likes to play fetch.  He likes to play games.  Makes games up.  He gets extremely playful though into his adulthood he's calmed down a good bit, thank goodness.  He's a killer and a lover.  He doesn't hold back when he plays, claws and teeth ready to shred and kill.  But then rubs you to death and loves hanging on the couch with us.  He's also a carboholic.  Yes, he loves crunchy things and sugary things.  Better than meat.  He'll snub a piece of steak for the french fry instead.  And his favorite nut is the pistachio.  Really.  Pistachio.  He doesn't like cashews.

I love him to death, but he wasn't my first choice when we got him.  Had just lost my favorite cat, Ailim, to cancer just over a month before and still wasn't ready to accept a new cat into my life.  Or so I thought.  And he was a grey and he was male.  Those were two things I wasn't looking for at all.  But who says what you're looking for is what you need?

Someone had abandoned him.  Still too young to even eat solid foods, he was clean and he was healthy.  Someone had been cruel and tossed him into a dumspter to die.  But he was lucky.  Found by my coworker who was walking down the alley he heard him mewling.  He brought him to work hoping someone would know what to do with him.  I couldn't say no even though he wasn't physically the perfect cat I was looking for.

How can you say no to this face?  How can you not help a little soul in need?  And how can you deny fate?  He turned out to be the perfect cat to fill the hole in my life that Ailim had left behind.  A hole that wouldn't have been there at all had she not passed.  And there's still that little part of me that believes she might have made room for his coming.  Because I wouldn't have taken him if Ailim had been alive and healthy.  Sometimes I get this notion, he's a reinacarnation.  He does alot of things that remind me of her.  But he's still his own special self.

And then there's the newest member of the family.  That's her saying hello to Khan the first day they met.  We got her after my other old lady cat passed, Mickey.  I actually didn't wait too long before thinking of finding another cat.  Her death was easier to handle, for one thing.  Maybe I was just better prepared after losing Ailim.  But also, Khan was driving everyone crazy.  Without Mickey to help keep him occupied, he started creating havoc.  Like I said, he's smart and needs mental stimulation.  Mickey, though an old grump, helped provide some.  And so came an adoption street fair hosted by PAWS Chicago.  And from it came a little kitten they named Nicola.  She was just the right kind of active and alert when we met her.  And seeing as we were looking for a play partner for Khan, she seemed the best choice.  Our instincts were not incorrect.

Adoption agencies and guides give you all these rules about how to introduce new cats to each other.   Keep them seperate for at least a week, let them get used to each others scent, cats are very territorial, etc etc etc.  In general, they aren't wrong.  And I've heard the schpeal many times.  Most of my cats were shelter adoptions.  And I followed those rules in the past.  But with these two, I threw all that out the window.  I have a pretty good handle on how my cats think.  So the first day, they met each other.  And within 24 hours they were like this.

 

Khan instantly became a caring big brother. And now the two of them are the best of friends tearing the house apart with their playful antics. When she was little, he would be gentle with her when they played.  Now that she's grown, neither holds back.  They are equally matched. One does not rule the other.   And I can't keep anything breakable out. Ha.

We renamed her Fiver, after the skittish, prophetic rabbit in Watership Down.  She's aptly named.  She pounces and hops around the house like a bunny.  And she's a spaz.  She'll go tearing through the house at the slightest provocation of surprise.  She can't always land on her feet perfectly and she tumbles alot because she doesn't know how to stop herself.  She's clumsy.  It's adorable.  She loves drinking out of the bathroom tap.  It's routine for her to run to the bathroom everytime we get up because she wants to drink out of the tap.  She's playful.  She's expressive.  And did I mention she's adorable?  And this is her wondering if I'm going to yell at her for staring at the plant below her.

Those are my kids.  They remind me to keep things simple and to keep loving.  I don't know what I'd do without them.  Probably make babies of my own.  Heh.