So I'm running late to leave for the vet's, a 40 minute drive, and I race into my office hoping to scoop Theseus up from his usual place on the floor. But noooo, I find him roosting on the top of the highest set of shelves he can get to. Gaaahh. I didn't have time to coax him down. I had to perch on an unstable chair and grab him. He did NOT want to go. On the way down, he dug his pitons into my arm and back. Owowowowowowch. He complained pretty much the whole way there.

The vet was more harried than I've ever seen. I asked him if he had seen a lot of problems from the pet food recall. He said he can't be sure, but he has had five suspicious cases of sudden kidney failure, all in cats. And about five million phone calls. I felt for him.

Theseus has lost more weight, as I could tell. He went from 22 lbs. to 20 lbs. and now down to 16 lbs. He's still a hefty boy and needed to lose the weight, but I don't know why he's lost the weight. He may have had coccidia and/or giardia that caused it. Or it might be something else, which is what worries me. The vet took a biopsy of the growth on Theseus' mouth. He saw some abnormal cells when he looked at the slide, but didn't recognize what they were for sure, so we'll have to wait for the pathology report.

Tom was back late this afternoon. I petted him while he was eating and saw that the abnormal claw on his deformed paw was way out of control again. I got the claw clippers and Tom and I danced a minuet for about five minutes before I finally managed to snip it. I also had to grab Scooter for the second time in two days, carry him up the road to the corner, and send him scooting back to his own house.

I finally figured it out. Ariel is practicing Feral Fang Shui. If she's in her bed facing north, she enjoys having her right ear scratched. Today, she not only leaned into it, she made a little sound of pleasure. Mind you, she only allows this for a few seconds. But if she's lying in her bed facing south with her left ear toward me, forget it. My best guess is that facing north, she has her back to a corner of the Cave and is facing open space. When she's lying south, she's facing the corner and may feel more trapped.

Or she's just nuts. Take your pick.

I discovered the bleeder. It's Theseus. I saw blood on his chest last night and found that it's coming from that nasty cyst/growth/whatever in the corner of his mouth. I examined his mouth carefully in case it was a tooth problem instead, but it's definitely coming from a crack or sore on the cyst. It must scab over and then he reopens it every other day or somehow makes it bleed again. The vet was fully booked for today, so he's going tomorrow.

The Scooter situation is resolved and I'm left officially embarrassed. I had a long chat with Scooter's mom and have to recant my previous opinion. She is caring cat mom who clearly loves Scooter and has spent hundreds of dollars on him. The embarrassing part is that she has already had him fixed. I started by asking for her permission to have him fixed at my expense. She said, "No!" I thought I was in for an argument, but instead it turns out that between the last time I spoke with her (probably a couple months ago) and now, she had it done.

In fact, while we were talking, Scooter heard his name, came over, rolled around at our feet and gave us a Full Display of his Snippery. Thus once again I am beaten over the head with a 2x4 on the evils of making assumptions. I hadn't bothered to look. I am such a doofus.

She apologized more than once for Scooter causing a problem and we both had good laughs over the tricks that cats pull on humans. She's going to try to keep him inside more, especially at night, though he's good at getting out. Randy and I will go back to our previous policy of discouraging him from coming around. He's not a poor neglected moggy. He's a blasted con artist.

Puck perfects the circle.

Zebedee's latest trick is to perch on top of my monitor. It's not a good place for him to be for a number of reasons, and when he jumps up there and settles on the back end of it, the monitor tilts upwards. This forces me to get up, remove him and readjust the monitor. Then Zoe decided if Zeb liked to do, she would like to do. It got to where I was having to readjust the monitor a dozen times a day. I'm trying to break them of the habit. Wish me luck.

Something new to worry about -- one of my cats is bleeding. I found blood splotches a couple of days ago, but thought it might have been the result of a cat tiff. But last night, I found a fresh new splotch on the plastic floor mat behind my chair. I have no idea who it's coming from, or where. I started examining every cat that was nearby, but couldn't find signs of blood. I hope it's not a sign of continuing intestinal problems, which is what I suspect. I finally was able to catch both Mojo and Zebedee doing their act in the catbox yesterday and they both continue to have borderline problems. I'll have to keep watching until I get a better clue who the bleeder could be.

We had a rare Bowie sighting this morning. Sasha is acting twitchy, though he comes to us to be petted. Scooter hasn't reappeared yet, or at least not when we're around. Haven't seen Tom again.

Poor dear old Diva has a bad cold. Her nose is running, she's all congested, sneezy and wheezy. Her health has never been especially great, in general. She has bouts of severe skin allergies. She has what is probably a virus that makes her eyes constantly runny and gooey. I give her Lysine twice a day for that, which seems to help a little. Many years back, the vet found calcification on her liver (no explanation for that!). She's at least 11 years old, but could be older. She's such a sweet, loving, quiet girl that I wish I could do more for her.

Kate the Ancient is closing in on 16 years old next month. I'm pleased to say that since the giardia treatment, she has put on a small amount of weight. She had gotten too skinny, so I'm glad to see that.

Zebedee peeks in the Windows.

Beware, it's the Hydra-Cat! (Okay, it's really Theseus, Kate and Puck.)

I saw Scooter briefly this morning. Since then, we've had snow, rain and freezing temps. It's bitterly cold tonight. I hate the thought of any cat having to be outside tonight. At least we've provided Sasha with a warm, enclosed bed/house. Maybe Scooter is curled up inside the igloo under the porch which is also filled with cat beds. It's been so cold all day, that I've had to replace the outside water bowl three times because the water kept freezing over. It should warm up tomorrow and stay warmer. I sure hope so.

Two wonderful things happened yesterday. As I was getting Ariel set up for the night, I did the usual thing and gave her little scritchies on the cheek. I carefully moved to scritch behind her ear. She closed her eyes and actually leaned into the scratching! She didn't suddenly jerk herself away or react badly. She let me give her a scratch behind the ear!!! I was thrilled. Of coure, today she is acting as though it never happened. ;)

Just before we went to bed, Randy decided to make a last minute check on Sasha. He went onto the porch, petted him up, then as he came inside, Sasha followed him through the front door. Luckily, we had already put Opal and Pippin to bed for the night and they were upstairs in their room. Otherwise, Opal would have been in his face hissing and probably attacking. Sasha prowled around the kitchen and living room yowling. After a few moments, he calmed down and let himself explore. We were able to pet him and even got a purr out of him.

The problem was that we couldn't let him stay inside for a couple of reasons. The only cat box is in the room upstairs and we certainly couldn't put him in there. Nor could we simply let him roam free in the house. The big problem is the allergens. Unless I can give him a rubdown as I do with Opal and Pippin, we can't let him spread allergens in the house. That's bad news for Randy (and I spent this morning vacuuming to clean up the area).

I suggested that Randy try to coax Sasha back outside with food, but that didn't work. It was getting later and later, so I finally coaxed Sasha over to me and picked him up. He allowed me not only to pick him up, but also to carry him outside and he was perfectly quiet until the last minute when I put him down next to his food and house. He got squirmy then.

He's such a good cat. Eventually, we will bring him inside my office where he'll have to get along with all of these cats. I think he'll be able to manage that.

It's getting crazy around here. Early this evening, it was a re-enactment of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly on the front porch. Randy called to warn me of a cat fight about to break out between Sasha, Scooter and Tom. Then I heard it and ran out of my office. All I saw was the aftermath, bits of white and black/brown fur on the steps and some freaked out cats under the porch. Sasha was doing his best to stay out of it. He's a pretty mellow cat who seems willing to get along with other cats just fine.

Scooter is the main culprit. We hadn't seen a sign of Tom in the past week and had no idea where he'd gone. Scooter, on the other hand, has apparently moved in with us and is living under the porch. I see him frequently, but the minute he sees either one of us, he runs off under the porch. He's probably sleeping in the igloo we set up under there for the ferals. He chased off an unknown cat last night. I caught up to Scooter and petted him, trying to soothe him down, but he kept growling -- not at me, at cat unknown and no longer present.

After this tiff, Randy and I managed to coax Tom to us. I picked him up and had the vague notion of bringing him into the office and into the cage while we debated what to do with him. But Tom was in no mood to be held for more than a few seconds and I had to set him down. A bit later, I found Scooter at the food bowl. This time he didn't run far and I was able to pet him, but he's uncertain of me. He wants affection, the poor thing.

We're in a weird bind with these cats. We can't take them in and it's hard to find a good solution for them. I have to assume Tom is either a runaway or abandoned at this point. Scooter's people have abandoned him, to all extents and purposes. If I had the money to spare, I'd get Scooter fixed. That might help calm things down.

Meanwhile, the other ferals who used to come around have pretty much vanished. We very rarely ever see Bowie any more. Smokey has stopped coming around. Peaches, a pale orange tabby, comes by now and then, but he's about the only one. I suspect that Scooter is driving them off. He truly needs a new home.

No sign of Tom since yesterday morning. This is mysterious.

Sasha was a happy, bouncy boy this morning. He was racing around the yard, then he attacked his "snake" (piece of string) and tossed it around the porch. He is opening up in a beautiful way.

I brought some more old turkey lunch meat to the Horde as a treat and Zebedee instantly turned into the Bouncing Moron again. More like a pinball, actually, as he made furry ricochets off the desk, off the supply drawers, off the toolchest, off the cage, off the other desk. I swear, he bounced off everything but the ceiling. He would have bounced off me, but I took evasive maneuvers.

I'm fairly certain that the only reason Ariel doesn't bite me when I give her scritchies on the cheek is that she hasn't yet figured out how to do it. I can hear the gears grinding in her head, though. She's working on it.

Randy and I were completely boggled when we went outside this morning to take care of Sasha and discovered that Tom has returned.

Tom the Limping Tabby is the cat with a deformed front paw who used to belong to the crazy neighbors across the street. They moved away months ago and supposedly took Tom with them. A short time later, Tom showed up at our house. I tracked the people down and told them. They finally came for him. That was a few months ago. Suddenly, he's back. He has the same old collar on, but no tags whatsoever. He's not in bad shape, so I don't think he's been on his own for too long.

I've run down the list of possibilities:
a) He traveled for 3 to 4 miles through desert wilderness to get here from where I last heard they were living.
b) They've moved to somewhere in this vicinity again and Tom came a shorter distance to the house he remembered.
c) They could no longer keep him and secretly dropped him off here knowing he would be taken care of.

I think he showed up last night. This is a hunch based on the fact that Sasha was reacting to something in the yard last night, but I couldn't see what it was.

We had a long discussion about what to do. From this point on, as far as we're concerned, he's an abandoned cat. It's pretty obvious that whatever the situation is, Tom would rather be here than with them.

However, Tom is a lot like Scooter in that they are both sociable with humans, not so friendly with other cats, and territorial. We definitely don't want Tom driving away Sasha. It would be quirky to see what happens if he runs into Scooter, who keeps coming around. I wonder how two cats with a front-paw disability would take whacks at one another? Not that I want to find out.

I haven't seen Tom since this morning, so I don't know where he is now. I really don't want to take him in, but that leaves trying to find a home for him. This is the last thing I need on my plate right now. Sigh....

It's been warm enough to open the sliding glass doors in the bedroom. Pippin and Opal love to lie there at the screen and watch the outside world. Sasha came around to the back steps and they were checking one another out, but I made a wrong move and the cat grenade went off. Opal jumped Pippin's ass because, y'know, he was there. I guess one black cat looks like any other black cat when you panic.

I had a tech guy in the office for hours yesterday trying to get a new hard drive installed in my computer. Poor guy is like Randy in that he loves cats and has a cat at home, but is allergic to cats, so he was wearing a dust mask. Naturally, this meant the Zoe had to be in his face as much as possible. Puck and Zoe were all over him, rather literally. Not that he minded, actually. He gave them lots of petting. But Zoe was being a total slut-kitty.

There's been news of a cat food recall going around. For those who haven't seen the info, you should probably check out this site. It relates to canned and moist pouch food, but there are a lot of brands on the list, including big ones like Iams and Eukanuba.
Recalled Cat Product Information

It's one step forward, two steps back with Ariel. Last night she let me give her scritchies under the chin. This morning, I tried to give her scritchies and she gave me a puncture and hiss for my efforts. Sigh....

Sasha is a rosemary-scented cat. He likes to run up against the potted plants on the porch while he's being petted. One of the plants is a rosemary that is brittle from the winter, so Sasha ends up with dried rosemary on his fur.

Zebedee tried to eat a button off my shirt. He nearly succeeded.

I tried something daring with Sasha last night. I had been petting him for a few minutes until he was happy and relaxed. I snapped up my denim jacket (as a protective precaution), then I picked him and held him in my arms. His head was near my left shoulder. I kept giving him the scritchies under the cheek that he likes. He didn't struggle, squirm or resist at all. He simply let me do it. I held him for maybe half a minute and the instant I felt what might be the slightest tension, I put him back down. He stayed at my feet taking more petting and continued to purr. What a good boy!

I continue to give Ariel scritches on the cheek and chin, too. She has been letting me get away with it, to my amazement, but the look on her face is priceless. It's the look of a prim and proper high society dame from a 1930s movie who has been affronted by the improper manners of some low-life. If I could bottle that look and market it as a perfume, the tag line would be: "AFFRONT - the perfume that screams Don't Touch Me!"

I was worried to see that Mojo still had diarrhea Thursday night, after finishing the Pancur on Tuesday. It's not as bad as it was, but it wasn't good. I called my vet Friday and was told to wait another couple of days for the medicine to fully take effect. I haven't been able to catch him in the act since then. He must be feeling better because he was beating the crap out of Zebedee and I had to chase him around the office with the Water Squirter of Doom.

Sasha is such a happy boy now. He's learned the joys of taking treats from my hand. I suspect he's fairly young because he gets quite playful playing with the string. He's looking healthy, sleek and well fed. He was so widly happy about being petted the other day, his usual love bite on my wrist was hard enough to just barely break the skin. I suppose I should give in and add him to the general Moggy Horde page. The real test is whether we'd leave him behind if we were to move, and I can guarantee we'd take him with us.

Speaking of getting carried away, Zebedee got nuts over some bits of turkey lunch meat I was handing out and stabbed my finger tip. The rest of the cats got treats seasoned with my blood. They didn't mind, I noticed.

"An empty food bag! How interesting!" Says Zebedee, Theseus, Zoe and Saffy.

Pippin and reflection.

Opal wonders what I'm up to.

Zebedee the trash bag kitty.

Found in the water bowl this morning: a sunken catnip fish and the plaster wrapper from a jar of baby food. Found on the floor: more wrappers, an empty baby food jar, and shreds of paper towels.

The morning cat chores seemed like a snap compared to the past five days. A couple of the cats, like Theseus and Tosca, were asking me where the yummy food was. They didn't care what it had in it.

I think the Horde must be feeling better as they've been running and bouncing around and jumping on one another. Jetta's sitting here, inches from my face, talking to me, but I have no idea what she wants. To be force-fed again? I kinda doubt it.

I haven't managed to catch Mojo at work in the catbox to see how he's improved. This will gross some of you out, but before this I knew when he was using the box because of the horrid sound, and I haven't heard that in days now. That's a good sign.

It could be my imagination, but it seems like most of the cats are feeling better. They were racing and bounding around and pouncing on one another. Puck was being the Lord of Mischief again.

For some mysterious reason, the WMD (Weapon of Moggy Distraction) has decided to work again. I needed it several times today. Zebedee would NOT stop with the dumpster diving, but a few squirts of water got the point across.

Dear Bast, I am a loyal servant. I have saved many of your kind. I am devoted handmaiden to the Horde. I think I have earned a break from these tortures and a long run of health amongst the moggies. Thank you.

This was Day 5 and the last of the Panacur. Even with my streamlined procedures and force-feeding Puck and Jetta, it still takes a good two hours to do it all. I ended the fast and rewarded the cats with cans of fresh, untainted food. No additives! And great was the rejoicing and much was the eating in Moggyland.

I came outside after lunch to take my walk and found Scooter on the porch. He hobbles off quickly when he sees me now, but he allows me to catch him anyway. Since my walk takes me that way, I carried him home yet again.

Now that I can pet Sasha from stem to stern, I've discovered that he has a tiny kink at the very tip of his tail.

One more day, one more day of Cat Hell. I made the mistake of letting Zebedee out when I had to mix one more bowl. I tried standing in the middle of the room, but he simply found the closest flat surface and launched himself across the distance to make a four-point landing on my chest. Mind you, I had already given him his dose of food, plus half a can of food on top of it.

Today went slightly better only because I've reached the point where I'm refusing to wait for a cat to decide to eat. Most of them were plenty hungry this morning and ate their doses with no problem, but once again it was Puck and Jetta who were the hold-outs. In Puck's case, I grabbed him by the ruff and fed him by putting the food in his mouth with my fingers. With Jetta, I took a suggestion someone sent me, mushed the food into a large-bore syringe and gave it to her that way. It worked! It was messy and I made the mistake of mixing up too much food, so I had to refill the syringe three times, but it worked. Not only that, she forgave me quickly and has been sucking up to me since then.

I discovered that His Grace Lord Simon wants to be hand-fed. He ate part of his food and was going to leave the rest, but ate it all by licking it off my fingertip when I served it up to him that way.

Today was another tough day of getting medicated food into cats. Simon stubbornly refused to eat the food all night and most of the day, so he stayed in the cage. He finally relented and ate it after I added a bit of fresh food to it, and so he went free.

The big battle of wills is with Jetta. She ate part of it and refused to eat the rest. She goes nuts over being in the cage, absolutely hates it and drives me crazy when I keep her there. I've been putting her in the cage with the food while I put out dry food for the other cats. I figure she should be considerably more hungry by tomorrow. She's been hitting me with her strongest Cute Beams in the hope of melting my heart, but knowing I need to get the meds into her helps me to resist.

Three more days. Just three more days. I can survive this. I hope.

Two small, but nice developments with Sasha. I sat down crosslegged on the porch with him to have a prolonged petting session. Then I picked him up and put him in my lap. He got off my lap immediately, but he had no negative reaction to it whatsoever. He kept purring and rubbing like nothing had happened. And Randy discovered that Sasha loves to play with string. Sasha was a bit hesitant at playing with the string with a human at the other end at first. He got hold of the string and proudly carried it around a corner of the porch to play with it by himself. I briefly got him to play with the string while I was holding it. He is so definitely not a feral cat.

I thought giving the cats the Albon was bad. This is worse, much worse. At least with the Albon, I could wrestle it down their throats and it was done. This takes longer and you can't force a cat to eat something it doesn't want to eat.

The first problem was The Return of the Bouncing Moron aka Zebedee. Actually, he's very smart except when his brain goes on holiday, which happens the minute there is food involved. As soon as I opened a jar of baby food, Zeb was bouncing off the walls to get to me. There was nowhere I could go in this office to escape him. On one bounce, he bonked me in the mouth and gave me a piece of fat lip and that really hurt. I love the little guy, but I came very close to throwing him against a wall. I tried locking him inside the Cave with Ariel. He was out in ten seconds. I locked him in again and enhanced the barricade. He was out in twenty seconds. Ultimately, after I gave him his dose of Panacur in baby food, I had to lock him inside a carrier for most of the morning while I handed out one dose at a time to the rest of the Horde. I kept him somewhat distracted by giving him the empty jars of baby food after I finished with them.

I'll be going through more baby food than I thought because the Panacur powder doesn't mix that well. Zoe came in a close second in harassing me each time I mixed up a new batch, but she's not a crazed as Zebedee though she did keep knocking things off my desk.

Mojo was no problem and he's my primary worry. Most of the cats ate the food without much demur, with two notable exceptions: Simon and Jetta. I tried putting Jetta in a carrier with the food while Simon was in the cage with the food, but they refused to touch it. I finally put their batches of food into plastic food containers and I've put all the dry food away. I'll attempt to get them to eat it again tonight after they've gone most of the day without food.

It was a time-consuming process, I have to say. I think I'll have to revise my tactics. Although I risk life and limb, I'm going to put away the food when I leave at night. By the time I come out in the morning, they should all be so hungry, they'll eat whatever I give them. That's the theory. On the other hand, if I never post again, you'll know I was set upon by a horde of ferociously hungry and annoyed cats.

Argghh, I just had to chase Simon off with a broom because he was cornering and attacking Jetta. I have no idea why. Odd, since they are the two cats who wouldn't eat the food. Simon might be cranky already. Well, good, so am I.

I also had to run outside earlier and rescue Sasha from Scooter. I haven't seen Scooter for a few days, but there he was fully pouffed up and ready to start a fight. He had Sasha on the run, too, which is amazing for what is essentially a three-legged cat. I finally nabbed Scooter and hauled him all the way back to his house where I plonked him inside his own yard. Like that will do any good.

Ah, bless my next-door neighbor. She has this minute gifted me with dozens of cans of cat food, including small cans of Iams and Fancy Feast. Her sister buys a ton of cat food for her cats, then when they won't eat something, she gives it away. I've been the lucky recipient for the past few batches. I may have more luck getting Simon and Jetta to finish their dose if I open one of these cans. At which time, the Horde will gang up on me and....

This is Simon. I've been delegated to finish this entry to the blog with a warning to all humans -- do not withhold food from your cats. We demand our food. Resist our demands, and suffer the consequences. Oh, and don't forget the catnip while you're at it.

The results for Mojo showed giardia, so the poor boy has it and ALL the cats in the office will have to be treated for it. Randy kindly picked up the Panacur from the vet's office today. I have dozens of packets of powder that have to be mixed into wet food and given to each cat once a day. I bought jars of baby food, as I figure that will be even easier and more alluring. I'll have to mix up one dose at a time, put the food and the cat into the spare cage and carefully track who has gotten dosed. For five days. Oh, the joy.

It might explain why Mojo has been cranky lately and very unhappy about being picked up. He probably feels bad, poor little guy.

I had to fax the vet a complete list of cats and their weights to have the dosage figured. I got out the weight scale and once again thank the generous donor who gave it to me (you know who you are). Mojo has actually lost weight, which is not a good thing in a young, growing cat. Zeb was 4 lbs. a month ago and is up to 5.5 now. Simon weighed in at a hefty 14 lbs.

Randy and I are developing a solid bond with Sasha. He talks to us, he purrs for us, he's happy to see us and shows it. When I get up in the morning, I open the blinds in the front of the house and he is usually right there on the porch waiting, his jade green eyes fastened on the blinds because that lets him know that we're up and will be out soon. He gets so happy sometimes when I scratch his ears that he grabs my hand with his front paws or gives me harmless "love bites". I wouldn't risk trying to pick him up and carry him into my office just yet, but we're well on the way to winning his trust.

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