Cats Rule The Roost

On the very day Georgette was put to sleep, I adopted a seven month old teenage cat from the shelter. His name was Sammy and he was shy but friendly. When I got him home, however, he panicked and hid in a covered litter box, refusing to come out if I was anywhere in sight. Almost two weeks later he was running amok through the house, befitting his teenager status. Look at that face. You can see the mischief written on it:

 He warmed up to Bugsy first, and Bugsy thought he was OK too:

 But Bugsy is lazy, needing his cat naps:

 Daisy thought Sammy was a young squirt, best ignored, and did her best to keep a distance between them:

 Sammy made friends with the dogs, but Bugsy was his favorite:

 Let's see, what can I get into next?

 Tired of the chaos, Bugsy hopped up to the top of the bureau where the food and water are kept out of dogs' reach (notice Daisy exiting the room - she wanted some peace and quiet also):

 Hi Bugsy, ready to wrestle again?

 But Daisy eventually warmed up to Sammy. He'd now made friends with all the pets but was still afraid of me. Sometimes he lets me pet him, so it won't be long until he trusts me:

 Daisy still keeps an eye on him:

 And sleeps with one eye open:

Surprise attack! Sammy is now a member of the family and exhibits a gentle, happy spirit. The shelter was right about him being shy, though. You'll see more photos of him in future posts:

House Cats On The Farm

I have five cats who live inside the farm house. Outdoor cats in general, and especially around here, don't live long. This is Bramble, a skinny and standoffish cat who likes other animals but not people. When I volunteered at the Animal Shelter, a litter of black and white kittens came in with one gray and white. The black and white kittens were friendly and sociable, but the gray and white was not. An employee suggested I adopt the unfriendly kitten because "no one else will ever take him." I did, and he's lived with me ever since, becoming friendlier to me, but not to anyone else:

Bramble's eye recently turned bloody so I took him to the vet. It turned out that he had an infected tooth which caused a blood blister just below one eye. The tooth was removed and he was put on antibiotics. He seems as good as ever now. That's Clover he's cuddled up with in this picture:

 Bugsy, also pictured here cuddled up with Clover, was dumped at my barn as a tiny, flea infested, sickly kitten. The local shelter refused him, so I took him to the vet and got him treated, then neutered - and now he's a fat, lazy house cat:

 Like Bramble, Bugsy likes dogs and cats better than he likes people. Visitors to my house seldom get even a glance at either of them:

 Daisy was an adult cat, dropped off at my barn with Bugsy. She too had fleas and a host of viruses and other infections. One of the viruses (we assumed) began to eat away the cornea on one of her eyes and I treated her for many months, never giving up. Finally she seemed better but had a hole in her cornea, which we repaired with a liquid cornea matrix. Oh, the wonders of modern science:

 You can see how one eye sometimes looks different than the other, though she otherwise seems to be in good health now. In fact, Daisy has become the most loyal, dog-like cat I've ever known and follows me everywhere I go, including the bathroom:

 Rocky is my oldest cat, adopted from a nearby farm litter when my old cat died many years ago. He once got to go outdoors and followed me from barn to barn as I did the chores. But that was when he was young. He's been exclusively an indoor cat for most of his life:

 Rocky and Seamus are good buddies, though I must say that photographing two black animals with a dark green background is a real challenge:

 Georgette came to the Animal Shelter with her one kitten because someone had abandoned the two of them in an Albany apartment. Because she was feeding only one kitten, they gave her an orphaned litter to nurse and I took them all home:

 Georgette raised all the kittens and I got them adopted, but Georgette refused to have anything to do with any people but me. She had decided that I was her person, and that was the end of the matter. These days, she mostly stays in her bed on the kitchen table. She doesn't like Bugsy or Daisy, so when they and Rocky go upstairs with me at night, I close the door to keep them up there and give Georgette free run of the downstairs. Bramble stays with her, but they get along:

Goodbye To Another Old Friend

I was an active volunteer at the Animal Shelter in the Albany area back in 2008 and had access to many of the back rooms where sick animals or those on hold were kept. Every time I walked into what was called "the puppy room," a white cat in a high cage would reach out his long arm and pat me on the shoulder. He was deaf, but so handsome and friendly that I felt sure he'd get a good home. When he finally made his way to the adoption area, however, no one seemed to want him and he still reached out to me whenever I went by. So of course I adopted him:

Draco was a fully grown adult when I got him. The Shelter neutered him and I had some concern that he might retain some of his tom cat ways. But he was a lover of comfort and friendly to everyone. This old photo is one of my favorites, showing Draco happy and comfy as well as four of my dogs at the time, only one of which is still alive:

  When we moved to the farm, Draco continued to make himself at home:

 Draco had a few spats with Rocky, but was always best friends with Bramble. The two of them were often together:

And he was an expert at finding cubbyholes to hide in, often opening cabinet doors and crawling inside for a nap:

Mr. Personality, Draco was always the first to greet any guest in my home:

But as the years passed by, he slowed down and began sleeping more:

His two best buddies were Bramble and Snoozey:

And just recently he was still enjoying a bit of play with feathers tied to a string. He and Bramble batted it around vigorously:

  

Draco was almost everyone's friend:

But he began showing his age more and more. When he began wheezing, I rushed him to the vet, where he was diagnosed as having pneumonia and a failing heart. I nursed him for three weeks with several antibiotics and special foods, trying to get him to eat. But he continued to look worse and worse. One morning I decided that it was time to have him euthanized, but he walked out into the middle of the room and watched me with bright and alert eyes, seemingly saying "Hey, I'm still inside here." I relented, but the next morning he was worse. I took him to the vet to be put to sleep. I didn't want my old friend to suffer any more. He's now buried out beneath the hay bales, close to his buddy, Snoozey, who preceded him:

There's A New Dog In Town

I have been missing PeeWee so much that I considered finding another special needs little dog. I found cute, well socialized small dogs for adoption at the Malone Shelter, but I felt sure they'd quickly find good homes - and heaven knows I didn't need another dog just to have more dogs. Then I discovered Jack, a Pomeranian mix at the Massena Shelter. He'd been picked up on a street by the Animal Control Officer (who he bit) and taken to the Shelter in September. It took until January before they got this little spitfire to the vet for neutering and vaccinations. He sat in his kennel, unadopted, because he'd begin screaming and running in fear if anyone approached him. He bit the dog catcher and one shelter employee, so perhaps they were thinking of Jack The Ripper when they named him Jack:

But one woman at the shelter made friends with Jack, and she introduced me to him. I then introduced Jack to Daphne and Clover. They were instant friends, so I adopted him. He accepted me so quickly that he was crawling onto my lap on the way home. I kept him on a leash at first. After he met Seamus and Fergus, Draco marched up to say howdy. Jack was fine was that:

I let him off the leash and he began to explore the house, peeing on every corner, chair leg and any other vertical surface he passed. I estimated that he was peeing every 10 to 20 seconds:

Jack was a little intimidated by gigantic Seamus, but they soon became friends:

Bramble, normally a dog lover, was not so sure. He stalked him from behind, his tail all brushy:

But Jack was already best friends with Daphne and Clover, so he felt secure. Notice Bramble watching warily from the chair in the background:

Jack's peeing began to slow down as I corrected him and disinfected all his favorite spots. He was making himself at home:

And he followed me around, wherever I went:

"I still don't like him. Harrumph!"

I put scrambled eggs atop their kibble for the first feeding and watched carefully, lest fighting erupt. But all went well, with everyone polite and respectful. And Jack certainly likes scrambled eggs:

He likes to sit in PeeWee's old dog bed beneath my computer when I'm there. That way, he's comfortable and right at my feet:

And he slept on my bed the very first night. He also slept underneath the bed and in PeeWee's old bed at times. Jack made himself part of the family in short order:

North Country Animal Shelter - Part 2

I'd checked out both indoor and outdoor dogs (see yesterday's post) and walked away from the dog building wondering if they had cats:

I stopped along the way to say hello to this tiny dog in a red jacket:

His red friend joined him to bark excitedly. Just then, a woman arrived to let them out and they greeted me with great enthusiasm. It appeared that they were only outdoors briefly for a bit of fresh air. I learned that this pair could only be adopted together:

I walked over to the cat building, which had a sign on the door with the warning to open it cautiously as the cats were not caged:

And indeed they were not. I marveled at how clean everything was and how well all the cats got along. A family was looking for a cat to adopt:

There were cats everywhere and had been given lots of high perches and "highways" to travel:

I didn't notice it until I got home and was editing the photos, but the cat on the right could be a contestant for one of the websites for "Cats That Look Like Hitler" or, as they are sometimes called, "Kitlers:"

This girl had found a cat, about half grown, which was extraordinarily affectionate and she wanted to adopt it. Her mother thought the cat's great friendliness might be annoying. I butted in, saying that was kittenish behavior and if they needed a more staid cat, to choose an adult. Ignoring my advice, they then headed to the building where the younger kittens were kept:

The cats were clean, well cared for and looked mighty contented:

With every color combination I could imagine:

I met the Shelter manager, who introduced me to Stevie, a tiny, blind special pet she kept in her office. He was found, blind and lost, during the winter and, once rescued, became her beloved companion:

I left the shelter with mixed emotions. I hated to see some dogs kept outdoors although they all looked happy, healthy and comfortable. I also worried about the great number of animals they had compared to the miniscule number of adopters looking for pets (only one family on that Saturday afternoon). But I also got a good feeling about the place and found the people warm and caring, the pets clean and well taken care of. I think that if I were to again volunteer at a Shelter, this would be the one: