Between blotch and blok

Cat--of the Shadow-y variety--was scooting himself across the carpet yesterday afternoon. M took him to the vee ee tee this morning for the expected diagnosis:
( Cut for Ick )
I've just noticed that my tags include the polite names of many gentleman cats (Mssrs Big, Oswald, Socks, Shadow) and one other similarly named non-cat: Mr Spock.

Difficult. Until you find him the right video to watch: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2slEoW-vRRI

Adopting a cat means incomplete information. Being warned Shadow was a "big boy" who was entirely food-centred and getting the vital facts about his health were fine. But, sight pretty much unsee, was how he came to us.

The things we learned quickly, that he bites--hard and often--and has snuffly breathing--are not the interesting things. It's the stuff that doesn't appear until he'd settled in that's more interesting.

For example, like most modern domesticated cats, he speaks microwave. We ditched our old one before we moved and only replaced it after Christmas. So, he's had six months of no "bing"! Even the supa-doopa new microwave which doesn't so much bing as cough discreetly in a manner much ike Jeeves (it doesn't play Mozart the way the washing machine does!) was immediately recognised. He lurks round it, comes at its call.

He also comes to explore any tin can that might appear. Sad really, as he's on dry kibble for weight loss (he isn't--losing weight), and he's generally asking for beans or pineapple.

He also likes dripping taps, though it's taken until this week for him to demonstrate this. He didn't chase silver-paper balls until very recently, despite the fact we gave him many. (I'm still waiting for a cat who's as good in goal as Mr Socks was.)

What he mostly knows, unfortunately, is that the way to get attention is to wrap himself around and arm or leg and munch away at the trapped limb. We think he may have lived with some one who payed rough with him. Or maybe he's just a bully. We're working on it.

Who knows what else we'll learn?

 So, if I were to say we've adopted a cat called Shadow, what would you imagine?

 Mr Oswald has never been an only cat. He arrived in a pair with Mr Socks to keep Little company. When he ended up an only cat, he wilted. He was lonely, sad, and, for a while, left alone a good part of the day. We got Mia and for three years they kept one another company, at a respectful distance.

With Mia gone, he's lonely again.

Or he was. Mr Oswald may be the being that most loves the pandemic. He's not alone or lonely anymore: his people are stuck at home and can substitute for the missing feline companion. But, come September LL is due back at uni in person, I could be working at my employer's premises right now (were it not for being ill, again), and even M may return to ARM.

So we're trying to adopt a new cat. We held off at the beginning of the year as it seemed unfair to get a new pet and then go away on holiday (remember them?!) at Easter. Then we waited whilst the Blue Cross weren't offering any pets up for adoption (and rightly so). Now there are cats coming up, not many, and not many fit our requirements (indoor, lives with other cats) let alone our preferences (elderly, problematic).

Yesterday, a cat came up via M's work. stray/feral just had kittens (the kittens were bagged pretty much instantly). She looked very pretty (tortie-and white) and I... very firmly said no. We knew we'd be taking on a cat that needed vaccinations and neutering, but when have vets' bills deterred us? But, we'd presumably also need to test for FIV. We don't have a house where we can keep two cats separate long term, and if she'd turned out positive we'd be risking the health of a 17-year old with arthritis and kidney disease.

I'm sure someone else, without another cat to worry about, has taken her. But, yes, I feel sad. She was very cute.

One more sweet cat gone. Not the one we expected--Ozzie continues, just older and skinnier.
( Pic )

Yesterday upon the stair,
I met a cat who wasn't there.
She wasn't there again today:
I wish she would come out to play.

(Actually, it's not all that bad: Mia did come out to eat after 24 hours of hiding. And she's now shuttlin between under the futon in one bedroom to under the bed in the other.)

13.15 Friday 17th March:
( Evidence, visual )
And it
( here we go... )
gets
( ...again... )
old
( ...and again... )
real
( ...and again. Le sigh. )
quick.

Here's little miss Puzzle Muzzle:
( pics )

My offspring won't tidy for shit
And now hosts a cat in their pit.
Where nagging has failed
Little Mia's prevailed
And sorting's being done in a split.