I thought I'd introduce you to the things that keep me company, drive me mad, make me laugh, make me angry, make me coo, and make me shout - as well as so much more. My cats!
I've always loved cats above other animals, and as a student, I adopted one from a friend when she had to move abroad. He was with me for years until he finally passed at the ripe old age of 18 ish. I then needed a break, to grieve and reconcile my loss. However for this time I was a little lonely, and felt like something was missing in the house. It wasn't too noticeable though, as work and my social life were nice and busy so there was little time, really, for being lonely. Then just as I was thinking that I was ready for another cat, the cancer diagnosis came through! Without knowing what that meant for the future, I knew it wasn't fair to take on an animal only for my diagnosis to be terminal and the cat/s to be left homeless and abandoned. Yup, I was more worried about the future of my hypothetical cat than I was about my own future.
By the end of 2013 though, we had a better idea of what was going on with me and while the oncologist refused, and still refuses, to give any details about what my future may look like - it looks better than it did at the beginning as treatment is so far going well. Touch wood! As I mentioned in a previous post, when I was diagnosed I was dumped. The treatment also took a lot out of me, and I couldn't perform on stage anymore. The operations on my throat made singing difficult. The lack of a job meant finances were tight. Everything going on made my confidence wither away more than usual and I bowed out of many social engagements. So where I had once often been out, surrounded by people, enjoying myself and socialising - I was sitting in the house, alone, with the TV and the internet and a few walls but nothing more. Having suffered from depression in my early 20's, I could see the signs of it coming in again, creeping in at the edgesand wearing away at my resolve. I could see where things were headed, and I knew something needed to change - and I knew exactly how I wanted to change it!
I needed company in the house, so dammit, I was going to get a cat! Or two. Or hey, if there were three siblings left somewhere then I'd just take them all. But three would be enough right, I couldn't afford 4....... could I?
Now, you see all of these notices about how rescues are full of cats and dogs, how they are desperate to find people to take the animals on and give them forever homes. However, apparently most of them weren't desperate enough to rehome a cat to me! I have qualifications in Animal Biology and Animal Psychology, but I wasn't seen as a good pace to rehome a cat, because I live too close to a busy road. I was home all the time, and could give any pet 90% of my time - but I wasn't seen as a good choice because I wanted to keep the cat as a house cat, because I live near a busy road and there are people taking cats from the street to use as dog bait. You know that depression? Well, it was having a field day with rejection after rejection - while all the adverts on my computer were now showing me faces of cats needing homes as my cookies said that was what I was searching for. There were cats on TV, advertising food and beds, the PDSA and RSPCA asking for help on that screen across the room, because there were so many animals in need of help and homes. But I wasn't good enough.
I had all but given up until a friend mentioned a tiny charity she had got one of her cats from. They weren't really set up to take on cats, and were instead wanting to focus on the smaller animals like rabbits, mice, guinea pigs, etc. But the feral and pregnant cat issue was so great that they had been taking in cats as and when they could. I was demoralised at this point, but I figured I would try one more time and I reached out in a FB message. I explained my situation, where I lived, what my house was like, and that I wanted a house cat or kitten that hadn't been outside yet. It turned out she had two kittens left from a litter, and couldn't find a home for them - BUT SHE WOULD BE HAPPY TO LET ME ADOPT, so long as everything I'd said checked out and after a home visit. I was elated! I'd wanted two boys, but this was a boy and a girl and you know what? I didn't give a toss. There were two, 4 month old cats needing homes, and it might be mine! I immediately filled out the paperwork and agreed to the price - by this point I'd have sold myself if it meant I'd get a cat out of it! - and we set a date for the home visit.
Theday and time came, as did the rescue woman. She was lovely and said that there was no problems with me having the kittens except for one thing. The little boy was becoming sexually interested in the little girl, so she wanted to have him castrated first. I agreed to this, because I would have been getting him done anyways so it saved me a job, and we set a date for them both to be dropped off after his surgery. Pretty much the minute she left, I was RIGHT on the computer and straight onto Amazon to buy all the kit. Litter boxes, food bowls, toys, scratching posts, everything! Whatever money I had and could spare, was spent on these silly kittens that I had never met. His operation went well, and he was picked up with his sister and brought straight here...... and they both vanished under the couch immediately. I was told to keep them in one room for a few days to let them acclimatise to their new home and I nodded and willed her to leave so that I could get down to the serious business of playing with two kitten shaped fluffballs! Finally, everything was done and all was said, and she took her leave. They were mine!
However...... elation was short lived when they could not be coaxed out from under the sofa. Nothing I did or said would bring them out, and I was met with silence and four GIANT eyes staring at me. So I left them to it and sat down on the couch to watch some TV, chatting with them about whatever was on. Then there was movement, I saw it from the corner of my eye as it tentatively snuck out to investigate the room. Then I wiggled a finger and it was stared at curiously - then the stare changed into the stare of 'I'm going to kill it'. I grinned, and we were off! I allowed them into the kitchen as well as the living room, as the food and water and litter tray was in the kitchen, while I was in the sitting room. But I had barricaded the stairs to keep them down with me where I could watch them and they could get used to the house a little at a time as instructed. The problem is..... no-one had told them that this was what was to happen!!! All I heard was the thump and slide of a sall furry body hitting the cardboard barricade I had up. Then it happened again, with the tearing of claws in the cardboard as they tried to gain purchase. Then a thump, a scrabble, and then RUNNING PAWS GOING UP THE STAIRS! How did a tiny floofball manage to leap over the barricade I'd set up that was from floor to the top a good 4' in height?! Kitten was retrieved and distracted with toys,barricade rebuilt, and all was well..... for 2 mins. Thump, scrabble, run, run, run. Fetch, rebuild, play, thump, scrabble, run, run, run, repeat x 50, give up. That was pretty much how it went. Those kittens wanted to go upstairs, sothose kittens were bloomin' well going to go upstairs!
That pretty much sums up the whole of life with cats really. You can try to get them to do what you want, but generally if it isn't what they want as well then there's no stopping them! So that was Snugglebug and Ladybug entering my life. Now, that isn't actually their names - though some might say those are better than their real names! lol - but their nicknames. Snugglebug is the boy, and he loves nothing more than being curled up touching me. He must be on or near enough to have a minimum of a paw on me at all times apparently. He is very much my cat, and when visitors come round he will always be in the room, but across the room from them just watching curiously. When I go into hospital or away and they are cared for - he won't come for strokes or cuddles and will stare accusingly, as if the carer has stolen me away from him. But when I come home, he comes running and jumps into my arms, rubbing his face all over mine while purring his head off then does his best limpet impression. Ladybug is the little girl - funnily enough - and she is very much 'proper cat', where Snugglebug is more dog in his way of thinking. If they ever ended up on the street, she would survive, and he would only survive if she fed him and took pity on him! She is also known as 'The Fluffy Tart', as she is ALL OVER any visitors who come round. She demands strokes loudly, falls to her back juuuuuuust out of reach and makes you come to her, and right when you do she wriggles just out of reach again, until she thinks you've worked hard enough and are allowed to touch the sacred fur.
They are hilarious and entertaining, and have 100% helped me get through everything so far with their fun and games and personalities, and of course their cuddles! However, you might be looking at the title and wondering where the Stinkbug comes in? Were you? Or had you forgotten that? Test of observation there huh!
Well, Snugglebug is HUGE! Not fat, but long and strong. I had to buy a couple of ceilingheight cat towers to keep them entertained and off the tops of my doors - it didn't work, they still get up there from a standing jump on the ground! He loves to play, and just wants to wrestle and play with Ladybug...... she doesn't. She wants to be a proper Lady, not a rough and tumble 'lad'. So things weren't so serene here and there. He tried to play, or lost control and played too hard, and she was having none of it. She is a VERY vocal cat, and discovered that if she snarled and growled and yowled, he stopped. It has never ever come to violence, and I'm not sure either would ever go that far - but she certainly knows how to use her voice, and I'm sure she's swearing like a navy cat! This was stressing him out as he wanted to play, and it was stressing her out as she didn't. So last year I decided there was only one thing for it...... he needed a friend to play with! (AKA, Lass found an excuse to get another cat >.>)
A different friend from the first, mentioned that the rescue centre she got her dogs from was affiliated with a cat rescue as well. I knew I'd face the same issues as I had the first time as I haven't moved house since then, so I didn't even try. The place I got the other two didn't have any cats needing homes, so this news came as welcome information. I got in touch and explained what was happening, and she asked what it was Iwas looking for. I specified it needed to be a boy so it had a chance of getting to the same size and strength as the original, but that I didn't care what colour or coat he had - so long as he had a coat, I didn't want a sphinx. I mean seriously? Who thinks those are nice and willingly takes one in? She phoned round all of her fosterers and then came back to me sadly saying she didn't have anything suitable as all of her males were outdoor cats and older than my two. I was gutted, but then she mentioned offhandedly about having new kittens that had just been born! Well, I jumped on that like a starving dog on a steak. I pointed out that I was in no hurry to adopt, and wasn't expecting to be getting a cat within the week, so waiting for a kitten to get to the right age wasn't an issue at all. It was a done deal. There were two boys in the litter and one was definitely going to be mine!
It was a long old wait, let me tell you! I made sure to get regular updates and pictures, and finally the 31st of December rolled around and I was off to pick him up! He was a little barrel of fluff that couldn't stop staring at my blue hair - I get the same reaction from kids too, and some adults - The minute he was picked up, he started purring, and I was slain. Home he came, and all was fabulous for a few days, except for the smell. When I got him, there was a distinct aroma to him. I figured this was just from the rescue place and so bathed him and shampooed him,and he smelt better. However he very definitely had a pungent breath. Having not had a kitten of this age before, I wondered if perhaps this was normal, and once his stomach settled into the new food and he got a bit older it would settle down to the normal 'vaguely fishy' breath cats have. This didn't happen though, and his breath got worse and worse until I was calling him death breath. One day when Igot up, he had a lump on his jaw that was sore to the touch, and he was drooling, it was at this stage I knew I needed to get him checked out (This all escalated over the course of 5 days from getting him to going to the vets.) Off we popped immediately with an appointment the same day, and the minute the vet opened his mouth the smell filled the room, and she remarked that she'd never seen anything like it before!
We're now 2 months down the line and the 'thing' in his mouth seems to have been caused by a fight/him biting something at the rescue centre that caused a hairline fracture in his jaw, and also tore his upper and lower gums on one side of his mouth. Food had got trapped in the tear, and then rotted, and rotted the gum too causing an infection. All the teeth on that side of his head have rotted away, but the fracture and wound/infection have all healed up. So the last couple of months for me have been spent worrying about him, and the other two who managed to get chest infections - but it finally looks like all is on the mend healthwise for them.
However, despite that, I haven't laughed so much in a long time! The boys are now best of friends, and are constantly doing gymnastic wrestling on the floor, or bombing around the house at speeds I think a cheetah would be jealous of. Ladybug and I just sit and watch them both having fun, and she loves that she can play with Stinkbug or Snugglebug when she chooses to, but otherwise isn't bothered by either of them if she doesn't want. While me....... I'm just grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Sitting here on the sofa, legs out, and three cats on my legs. Whatever else is going on in life, that is just perfect and comforting. On bad days, I whip out the feather and bell on elastic and I've soon forgotten/ignoring whatever was stressing me out. When I'm upset, Snugglebug will come and plant himself on my chest purring, forcing strokes out of me. They save me every day from the four walls I find myself almost trapped within, and I am SO glad those charities were willing to give me these three furry monsters! What could be better?!
