Signs of a Grieving Cat

Signs of a Grieving Cat

If you’re sad, chances are he’s too

Because cats are considered wild and independent creatures, some cat owners don’t pay attention to how their pet behaves when a companion passes away. They are often too upset about the loss themselves to consider if cats grieve too.

https://medium.com/for-the-love-of-animals/signs-of-a-grieving-cat-26f1c5b9571b

How to recognize good pet food

Would you want to eat what you put in their bowl?

Most cats and dogs have a soft basket to sleep in, a juicy bone to chew or plenty of toys to keep them entertained. When it comes to feeding their pets though, owners are frequently uninformed. What are good pet foods to buy? There are many products available and they all look appealing, but before buying, take a closer look.

https://medium.com/writers-blokke/how-to-recognize-good-pet-food-2dfd6c3f8774

Day 60: Poor Greyson

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 60: Poor Greyson

Greyson is upset with me, and for good reason. If he could talk, he would say that he suffered a mild case of animal abuse. Not once, but twice. Here’s what happened.

Tonight I came home from work and together with Dieter I made the beds. The duvet was folded three quarters over the bed to give the bed a chance to air. In order to straighten the bottom sheet, we threw the duvet off the bed and heard a ... clonk.

Moments later, Greyson appeared from under the duvet with a face that asked ... what’d you do that for? The poor thing, by throwing the duvet on the floor we inadvertently threw Greyson to the floor who lay napping under the folder duvet. I wanted to pick him up and tell him how sorry I was, but he was having none of it.

As if once wasn’t enough, a short time later we had another accident.

I went to my room to fold the laundry. That’s when I noticed a black sock on the floor, sticking out from under my bed. I bend to pick up the sock and heard an angry ... meow!!! That's when I realized, the black sock wasn’t a black sock but Greyson’s dark, fluffy tail.

In my defense, the room was rather dark and I wasn’t wearing my glasses. If I had, I would have seen the difference between a sock and a cat’s tail, but as I said, I didn't wear glasses. 

I crouched in front of the bed and noticed two amber eyes glaring at me. In response to my “Sorry baby, I didn’t know it was your tail,” Greyson turned his back on me.

Halley who had heard Greyson’s meow, in protest of me pulling his tail came running into the bedroom. She dived under the bed to comfort Greyson and no doubt plotting revenge. I could just imagine it, Halley stating ... don’t worry brother, I’ve got your back.” And she did.

About an hour later I went to the bathroom and as usual, Halley came with me. She positioned herself on the corner of the vanity table. On the vanity table also stood a new toilet roll. While I wasn’t looking, Halley inched closer to the roll and with her front paw deftly knocked the roll in the toilet.

Well, I never. And it wasn’t cheap toilet paper either, it was Charmin paper. After I fished the roll out of the (clean) water it was only good for one thing ... the bin.

I can only guess what those two have in store for me tonight. After these two cases of minor abuse, they no doubt will make me pay.

My guess is that Halley will come and sit on me, and she’s not exactly a light cat. Greyson from his side will wait until I drift off to sleep before sticking his cold wet nose in my ear and start purring, followed by licking my nose.

Lesson learned. From now on, before throwing the duvet off the bed, I will check that no cat is napping underneath it and when I see a black sock on the floor, I will make sure that it is indeed a sock and not a tail.

I’m sure that those of you with cats can relate.

____________________

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Day 45: Stop that fly!

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 45: Stop that fly!

People often comment on how lazy cats are. Never have I heard someone say how patient they can be.

While it’s true that cats sleep a lot, if awake and they’ve spotted a fly (or another bug) I’m amazed at their perseverance to catch the intruder.

Yesterday a fly zipped past my nose, but by the time I swatted at it, it was long gone. The fly kept pestering me again and again though, and while at one point one of my fingers did make contact, the fly kept coming back for more.

It didn’t take long for Greyson to spot the fly too and she made it his mission to be its terminator. He positioned himself on the side table near the sliding door, ready to attack anything that came in or went out.

At first, the fly stayed out of Greyson’s way, but eventually his curiosity or foolish playfulness got the better of him and the fly did a fly-by right under Greyson’s nose.

Greyson’s attention which, after half an hour of no action, was slacking, was suddenly on high alert. His head turned from left to right and up and down, following the fly wherever it went.

A few times, when within reach, Greyson made a grab for it but came up empty-handed. Still, he didn’t give up. Again and again and again he tried to catch that buzzer.

At some point, he almost succeeded. He sat on the floor by the door, the fly flew over his head, Greyson reached up with both paws and … while failing to catch the fly, he did manage to throw it out with a gesture of ‘Get out and stay out!’

The fly, clearly knocked senseless and perhaps suffering a headache, sat on the tiles for a few seconds before taking off.

We thought that was the end of it, but we were wrong, today the fly (or another fly) was back. Greyson, who so far had slept peacefully, woke up and kept an eye on his fast food (or afternoon snack). He sat on the table, followed the fly with his eyes wherever it went and waited patiently. So patiently in fact that I started to wonder how much longer he was going to sit there, not moving, not even his ears or tail.

Having practiced his swing the previous day the fly didn’t stand a chance. After having buzzed around the chandelier for a while, it came down for landing and … zap, Greyson’s paw shot out, he grabbed it out of thin air and smacked the fly on the table, covered it with his other paw and bend down to eat it.

Unfortunately, the fly was no dummy and it played dead under Greyson’s paw. The moment Greyson bend down and lifted his paw slightly to eat it, the fly flew away.

While I can only imagine that Greyson yelled “STOP THAT FLY!” the fly from his side shouted, “SEE YAA!” 

Day 163: Be careful what you wish for

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 163: Be careful what you wish for

Many years ago, I asked a Ragdoll forum member if this breed of cats can ‘talk’. “Can they talk,” she replied, “The question is, do they ever shut up!”

Once I had a Ragdoll myself, a rescue we named Gabriel, I was somewhat disappointed that he was a rather quiet cat. Occasionally he would utter a meow, but on the whole Gabriel was too laid back to make a fuss about anything.

A few months after Gabriel passed away, we adopted two more rescues, Halley and Greyson. I hoped and wished that one or both would be ‘talkers’, but for months they remained tight lipped.

Overnight that changed when Greyson found his voice. For the longest time he was a quiet little kitty cat, but no more. Ever since he found out that he can produce a sound, he's been talking non-stop. He cries for food, he cries for attention, he cries when he can't find one of his toys, he cries for everything.

And he's got different kinds of cries. Food has one cry, for attention has another cry, and when he can’t find his spring or toy mouse that’s another cry still. If you were to hear his cry for attention you would agree … it can melt a stone heart. Yes, it’s that pitiful.

In case you’re wondering why he cries for food … I have no idea. Greyson, along with the others get breakfast, for during the day they have dry nibbles, and around 7:00 p.m. they get their dinner. So they never go hungry and there’s really no need to cry.

Neither is there reason to cry for attention, as Charlotte, Holly, Halley and Greyson get plenty of pets and kisses. 

The thing is, when I’m peeling potatoes, Greyson wants to see what I’m doing. If Dieter is doing dishes, he wants to inspect the works, and when the beds are being made, Greyson makes sure the wrinkles are smoothed out (every cat lover will know what I mean by that). If Greyson is kept out of the loop, he cries.

As for crying if he can’t find one of his toys … well , that’s a different story altogether. Greyson’s favorite toy is a spring. When we first adopted him, Jackie (his foster mother) send him off with a packet of 10 springs, we bought an additional packet and later on another packet. That’s 30 springs altogether and he systematically lost them all. He knocks them under chairs, under the washing machine, the fridge, a cabinet … you name it. Every now and then when we clean under the sofa we find a few of those springs, but things are a little more difficult when retrieving them from under the fridge or the washing machine, those things are heavy.

Greyson knows this, where he put his springs I mean, not that the machines are heavy, and wants us to lend him a hand in getting them back. When we tell him no, or that we can’t do it, that’s when the crying starts. So what do I do … no, I don’t move the fridge or washing machine, I’m not Wonder Woman, I go on Amazon and order new springs.

Just goes to show, I wanted a talkative cat and now that I have one ...

Day 162: Toronto Cat Rescue Bowl-a-thon

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 162: Toronto Cat Rescue Bowl-a-thon

It’s that time of the year again. The Toronto Cat Rescue (TCR) is hosting their annual Bowl-a-thon to raise funds for the cats and kittens of Toronto.

Since Dieter and I love both cats and bowling, we registered for this event and are active fundraisers.

The first year we took part, our group was very small, and the organization barely raised $6,000. Last year, the group counted over 200 people and we raised over $40,000.

How does the Toronto Cat Rescue? It’s not a cat shelter in the traditional sense of the word. Cats are not housed in cages, but rather with foster families, their picture is taken and displayed on the TCR website, after which the cats are up for adoption.

The organization needs money though. Before each cat or kittens goes to their new home, they are spayed/neutered. If a cat or kitten is sick, it’s taken to a veterinarian.

If you can spare a few dollars, I would kindly ask you to make a donation. This can be done in three ways:

Canada Helps:

https://www.canadahelps.org/en/charities/toronto-cat-rescue/p2p/bowlathon2019/team/paws-claws/captain/conny-manero/

My PayPal account:

conny.manreo@gmail.com

or via a bank transfer.

A donation of $20 or more will get you a tax receipt.

The cats and kittens of Toronto are counting on you and thank you in advance.

Day 161: Why, oh why couldn’t I have gone for a white one?

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 161: Why, oh why couldn’t I have gone for a white one?

By now you are well acquainted with Greyson, a kitten we adopted from a foster mother from the Toronto Cat Rescue. As soon as I saw his picture, I knew I wanted this kitten and a few weeks later (he was too young to adopt at the time) he was mine.

Plenty of people don’t like black cats, they think that black cat brings bad luck. Oh well, they do say that an idiot is born every minute, so we have to forgive their ignorance and stupidity. Me, I love black cats, but then … I love all cats.

Today, some seven months later, the tiny kitten has grown into a medium-sized cat. The other cats are much bigger than him, but maybe he’s not done growing yet. 

We love Greyson dearly, but yesterday I was far from impressed with him. Let me put you in the picture …

Last night, around 1:00 a.m. I was ready to go to bed and before turning the lights out I did what I do every night … I check if all the cats are okay.

Charlotte was sleeping on top of the wall unit. 

Holly was snoring in the loveseat. 

Halley was at my feet, eager to join me in bed. 

And Greyson … where was Greyson?

I looked around the lounge, checked the chairs in the dining room, and inspected the kitchen ... Greyson wasn’t there. Next, I checked my bedroom, the bathroom, and the laundry cabinet … nothing. The only place left was Dieter’s bedroom.

Since Dieter was in bed already, his room was shrouded in darkness and finding Greyson there would be next to impossible. So I stepped into Dieter’s room and in hushed tones called “Greyson! Greyson, are you here?” No response of course and he didn’t make an appearance either.

So I went back to the lounge to have another look. I looked under the coffee table, behind the chairs, checked the dining room chairs again, checked the windowsill behind the curtain, and looked in the kitchen, bathroom and laundry room again. When I went to my bedroom I checked under the bed, behind the cabinets … nothing.

I was slowly but surely beginning to lose it and when I returned to the living room I hissed “Greyson, where the hell are you? Show yourself!”

The only place left was Dieter’s bedroom, but I couldn’t exactly go in there and switch the light on. So I stumbled around in the dark, checking the bed if I could feel his soft fur and in the process stubbed my toe against the bed. Lord above, have you ever hurt yourself without being allowed to scream or swear?

I stood there in near silence, groaning with pain, my foot in my hand, doing a close imitation of an Irish jig. 

By the time I returned to the living room I was royally ticked off and thought … Why, oh why couldn’t I have gone for a white kitten?!

The only thing left to do was grab my cellphone, switch on the build in torch and shine it under Dieter’s bed, that was the only place I hadn’t looked. But where was my cellphone? Now had to go look for that. I checked the coffee table, the dining room table, looked under books and other stuff … my phone was AWOL too.

And then suddenly I felt familiar soft fur brushing up against my leg … Greyson. “And where did you come from?” I asked him. “I looked for you everywhere!” He didn’t answer, of course, if he had I would probably have keeled over. Instead, he sat there staring at me with his big amber eyes looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

So in the event that you’re planning on adopting a black kitten/cat, for the sake of your nerves and your toes … get the cat a fluorescent neckband or better yet, a bell.

If you like my stories, you might like my books.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Day 160: Halley … Hollywood Material

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 160: Halley … Hollywood Material

The other day I mentioned that I suspected that Greyson was part cat, part squirrel. Now he’s not the only one could have mixed parents.

http://connymanero.weebly.com/blog/day-158-greysons-accident

Take Halley for instance … she could be related to polar bears because that cat loves anything cold. First thing in the morning she wants to go out on the balcony. If I think it’s too cold and refuse to open the door, she looks at me with pleading eyes and emits a meow that would melt a stone heart. If that doesn’t work, she throws a tantrum and scratches the door with all her might. Eventually, I can’t take her scratching anymore and give in.

During the day, she ignores warm cushy places and rather sleeps in the tub or the sink where it’s cool. And give her half a chance and she jumps in the fridge.

Halley is a bit of a diva though. While she was a kitten she was sweet and calm, but lately, she’s developed a personality that demands attention.

People often wonder what cats do while they’re away from home. I know what Halley does … she watched TV, more specifically old black and white movies. In case you have any doubt, l found her in the sink today and she struck one pose after another.

Can you imagine Halley at the Oscars? And the winner is...

She is, by all means, a bossy cat though. While she plays with Greyson, a nine months old kitten, she often chases after Charlotte and Holly, aged 15 years and 5 years respectively. Neither of them likes that. Then just when I think they are sworn enemies, I find them curled up together in the airing cupboard.

Halley’s true friend though is Dieter. Where he goes, she goes. It starts in the morning when he takes his shower, she goes with him in the bathroom and sits on the toilet waiting for him to finish. I haven't actually seen that, but that's what he tells me.

When he comes home she sits by the door to greet him and from there on they're like two peas in a pot. If he goes to the bathroom, no matter where Halley is, she comes charging through the room in a manner of … WAIT FOR ME! GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!

On the rare occasion that she doesn’t see him go to the bathroom, all he has to do is call “Halley, are you coming?” and she comes flying from wherever she’s been.

Halley is a wonderful cat, but then judging by her expression as a kitten, we could have expected that she was going to be a handful.

Do you like the stories?

You might like my books.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

Day 158: Greyson's Accident

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 158: Greyson's Accident

It is generally accepted that the parents of a kitten are a male and female cat. Yet in Greyson’s case, I have serious doubts. Judging by his look and behavior, I’ve come to think that his father might be a squirrel.

Not only does Greyson have the coloring of a black squirrel, but he has a really big bushy tail, and he acts like a squirrel. He runs like one, he jumps on walls and door frames, and hides things. Now wouldn’t you say those are all the characteristics of a squirrel?

In addition, Greyson is a rather naughty kitten. This morning he pulled a stunt that we won’t forget in a hurry.

For the longest time, we had dark colored carpets. They were either red with flowers or dark green with flowers or something similar. Nothing ever happened to those carpets, no spills of any kind. Now that we have a new cream-colored lounge suite, I wanted a cream colored carpet under the coffee table and would you believe it … the carpet is not even a week old and … you guessed it, something happened.

I recently changed the coffee table decoration from a silk flower arrangement to a Val St. Lambert crystal tray. I inherited this tray from my folks, but for the longest time didn’t dare to put the tray on the table. It’s an expensive piece and should it break … well, anyone who knows crystal knows that crystal doesn’t just break, it shatters in a million pieces.

With the arrival of the new lounge and carpet though, the orange flowers clashed with the pink flowers in the carpet, and so I brought out the crystal tray, washed it and placed it on the coffee table. Charlotte, Holly, and Halley ignored the tray, but Greyson was fascinated by it. Every chance he got he jumped on the table, walked up to the tray and stared at his reflection.

And so it happened. This morning he was once again admiring himself in the tray, for some reason got spooked, one of his claws got stuck in the lace runner under the tray, and the next moment a coffee cup that was standing on the table now lay on the beige carpet … leaving a big coffee stain.

Fortunately, I’ve read enough about stain removal that I knew what to do. I blotted up the coffee and followed up with soda water. From what I can see most of the stain is gone. Someone suggested hairspray or peroxide to remove any last traces of the stain, but I have neither hairspray nor peroxide. But thank you Vicat F. and Bunny A.

As for Greyson … he knew he’d done something wrong and fled to my bedroom. It took hours before he ventured back into the living room and was rather careful about it. Not that he had anything to worry about, it was, after all, an accident and he was quickly forgiven.

Do you like the stories? 

Maybe you will like one of my books.

www.connymanero.weebly.com