Thanks for all the warm congratulatory responses. I wanted to give a little update on how Logan is doing. (So, I guess I’m sticking with “Logan”, not that it really matters because he trots over when he hears my voice, no matter what name I’m calling out)
I grew up in a home without cats, and it was only in the past two years that I could actually have a pet to call my own. So, when I play with my cats, I tend to be very child-like, and sometimes, unintentionally rough with them. Logan has been a very good cat on that front, which is, I guess both sad and ironic. I’ve been testing him a bit and pushing his boundaries to see exactly how docile he is.
So far, I’ve dragged him out from under the bed when I wanted to cuddle with him and all he wanted to do was sleep. I’ve chased him around the apartment a couple of times. When he was exploring a bit, I grabbed his hind foot and held onto it while he hopped around in circles. I’ve flipped him onto his back (apparently, that makes him submissive to me ) and I’ve tugged at his tail a bit. None of it has hurt him, just made him mildy annoyed.
I basically treated him like a young child would, and other than giving a grumbly meow once, signaling it’s time to leave him alone, he was very good and patient. He would have made the perfect cat for a child to grow up with.
New Year’s Eve, 2005, Brandy joined our household. She was the grand dame in an Abyssinian cattery, a champion, and she’d apparently grown into a bit of a grouch. My husband had been wanting and Aby, and the breeder needed to find a home for Brandy to bring peace to the cattery. She was about 7 years old, so not ancient but not a kitten.
Today, she is queen of our household, duly snubbing the dog most of the time, and demanding attention and our dinner on a daily basis. I’d love to rescue another cat, but for now, Brandy needs to be an only. We’ll see what happens when our daughter moves in with her tortie after graduation… But if I do decide to adopt another, it’ll be an older one. I need to be careful, tho - I could easily turn into a crazy cat lady.
Sad, cats do play fairly rough. Our cats’ favourite game is “beating” - they crouch down on the floor, and you just paddle their little bottoms, usually to mad purring. As you’ve seen though, they have no problem making it known when they’re done playing (Max usually just starts biting us).
That’s a beautiful kitty, FCM. Abbys are gorgeous.
Logan looks a very happy and content gentleman, I’m sure you’ll be very happy together! I’m not the maternal type either, and I think all my cats have known it. My most recent cat, Orly, was quite convinced that she was the centre of my world. She continued to think that way even after Ophelia came along. Sadly we lost Orly last year at the age of 11 which was a tremendous loss because I’d had her from a kitten when she was abandoned by her mother.
Still, we’d had many great years and we still have Ophie for company. Of course it does also mean there’s a vacancy at our place so I guess we’ll be heading to the cat shelter this month to find a friend for Ophie.
For those who wish to keep harping on this issue of animals versus infants, I’ve opened a thread in the forum where Lynn asked us to take that discussion. Here’s a link to help you find where that forum is.
Scarey, Orly was one beeyooootiful kitty (as is Ophelia, of course). Long-haired ginger female, eh? I have a feeling they are fairly rare (mostly from never seeing one).
I’m happy to report that all three cats are getting along fine and dandy now. The kitten is absolutely thrilled he has someone else to harass, and my female is very happy that the kitten has someone else to harass. Logan doesn’t seem too thrilled at the harassment, but I think he secretly enjoys the attention.
Solid ginger females like Orly are very rare, it’s got something to do with the mix of genes that bring out the ginger colouring. She was a proper marmalade cat, three shades of ginger/red and stripey. The lady who runs the cattery we took her to was very fond of her and several times asked if we’d be prepared to part with her. Of course we had to turn her down!
I’ve been put in charge of keeping younger children from harm since I was 4. But at 8, it was deemed dangerous to let me hold my youngest brother because “maybe she’ll hurt him! They get jealous, you know!”
You have my empathetic sympathies on this. (Also CONGRATS!!! on Logan!) I’ve always, as an independent adult, had multiple indoor-only cats, and over the course of 35+ years had to rehome three of them because they simply could not adapt to that life. It was painfully hard each time, especially the first, which had to go to a shelter – and the folks there gave me a very tough time. Which they were entitled to do, but it was give up that cat or be evicted from my apartment for the damage it was doing.
The other two I found homes for as barn cats, fortunately with understanding rather than condemnation from the people I’d discussed my dilemma with. The feral adoptee, who’d never learned to trust humans and was miserable living with me and the other cats, soon disappeared and I wonder to this day whether she’s still alive, sneaking into the barn at night to feed on the other barn cats’ food, or whether she did not survive.
The other pet turned barn cat, who’d been socialized to humans from birth, simply couldn’t handle living with other cats and adapted to barn life joyfully. She and the original resident barn cat worked out territories and mostly ignored each other. She’s still alive and thriving three years later, and is delighted to tell me all about it whenever I visit her.
So, yeh, it’s tough to judge these things if you haven’t walked in that person’s shoes or stepped in that cat’s upchuck.
) and I’ve tugged at his tail a bit. None of it has hurt him, just made him mildy annoyed.
