Difficult kittens and new lives

Well, I’m officially a resident of Whanganui now. I’m settled into my cousin’s house with my cat, and I start my new job on Monday. It’s hard to believe it’s actually happening.

The drive down was a nightmare.

The problem is this, you see. Tonka likes to be out of his cage in the car, BUT THREE TIMES NOW he has pooped in my car. This isn’t something I really want again, so I decided to keep him in his cage. At least, then, it would be contained.

Now, the last time I took him on a long car trip, I discovered I could let him out of the car for a walk without worrying about him running away. This is no longer the case. He starts exploring, and he doesn’t stop until he’s out of sight. I even lost him in one of those drain pipes that run underneath driveways.

The first place I let him out for a walk in, he behaved. Here he is, contemplating life. 

About halfway through the trip, Tonka started to pant like a dog. He does this occasionally when he’s tired or hot, and it always looks hilarious. I pulled over at another rest stop and tried to give him some water. The little monster wouldn’t drink it. I tried everything – pushing his face in it, putting it on the backs of his paws, squirting it into his mouth – nothing worked. He just wasn’t interested. I was becoming increasingly worried because his panting was starting to get heavier. Eventually I just squirted water all over his fur and turned the air conditioning towards his cage, hoping that would help cool him down at least. It seemed to do the trick, because he stopped panting after that, though he did start doing cartwheels in his cage trying to escape the air conditioning. For some reason, the wind is fine, but any machine-made breeze is witchcraft and must be avoided at all costs.

The rest of the journey was relatively uneventful, bar the four flocks of sheep we came across while driving through the Paraparas. Tonka was very alarmed at the incessant baa’s, because he could only hear, not see, them.

I’ve already let him out of the house. He’s perfectly happy to go explore and then come back inside. He also, apparently, has a fascination with my bedroom window. This is the second time so far I’ve caught him hanging out it like this.

Cats.

Deadly games

My kitten caught his first mouse today. I was proud. Well, simultaneously proud of him and sorry for the mouse. I really just wanted to go put the poor thing outside, but people always say not to do that because it will come back inside.

He’d found the poor little thing cowering behind a curtain, and he was on it in a flash. I had to chase him outside because he kept putting it down on the living room floor to play with it, and I didn’t want it disappearing underneath something.

He was gone for about an hour, and eventually came back sans mouse to have some cuddles and lie in the sun for quarter of an hour. Then he was outside again, as is the norm for him. I don’t know what he does all day, but he spends most of his time outside, usually within earshot, judging by the amount of times I’ve gone out onto the deck and called his name, to see him come bounding around the corner moments later.

A few minutes later he was back again with his prize, which I realised with a small amount of shock, was still alive. He’d played with this mouse for possibly an hour, left it alone and alive for 20 minutes, and then found it again. I don’t know how mice work, so I don’t know if it would have just stayed put out of fear, or if maybe he injured it in some way that I couldn’t see. Whatever the case, he tried to bring his live mouse back into the house. I shooed him away and he disappeared once more.

I saw him again about half an hour later, this time batting the now-dead mouse across the deck. I felt a bit sad for the mouse, but I was glad Tonka was finally learning to hunt. I was glad, that is, until about ten minutes ago.

It’s now 10pm, and Tonka has been scampering around the hallway outside my bedroom door for the last fifteen minutes. After listening to his thumps and scuffles, I eventually got up to see what he was doing. Imagine my surprise when I come out of my room to find him hitting around his very dead mouse on the hallway carpet.

He looked at me, frozen. I looked back.

“TONKA!” I yelled, putting on my ‘very angry’ voice. “Get that thing out of here!”

I understand, of course, that he is a cat and doesn’t actually speak my language, but I correctly assumed that he would understand what I meant when I started stomping my feet at him and making a whooshing motion with my arms to direct him to the window. In a flurry of movement, he snatched up his toy with his teeth and fled to the living room window, scrambling out as fast as his little legs would take him.

How long am I going to have to keep a look out for that dead mouse?

Kitten of mass destruction

My flatmate is away until tomorrow morning, and my boyfriend went back to Tauranga yesterday, so I’m feeling a little bit lonely at the moment. Sure, I have the kitten, but I go through fazes of either loving him or hating him, and he doesn’t really provide any good conversation, so while he helps a little with the loneliness, he doesn’t banish it by any means. 

After watching an episode of Community in which they construct a gigantic blanket fort, I was inspired to build my own in an effort to ward off the boredom brought on by being all by myself. It also gave me something to do that didn’t involve lying in bed on my laptop.

The kitten, of course, as all kittens do, decided that his task of the day must be total destruction of my masterpiece, so a scarce two minutes after I had crawled into the finished product, the roof collapsed in on me.

I should have known better than to try.

Lethargy

I am trying and failing to get myself out of bed today. It’s nearly one in the afternoon and I’m still snuggled up in my bed, procrastinating.

I had to get up at about eight when my boyfriend gave me a call before he started work, because my kitten heard my voice through the wall and started meowing and scratching to be let in. I didn’t feel like having him in my room yet though, so I gave him some biscuits and opened the door to the deck so he could go outside and play. I guess he only had one goal, though, because at about ten, when I pulled the corner of my curtain back to see if it was sunny outside, I found him on the other side of the window staring back at me. I don’t know how long he’d been there, but I’m already a little freaked out.

Now I’ve told myself I’m going to watch one programme online, and then get up and go for a run, because damnit I am not going to give up on this little exercising trend I’ve got going on this time. I’m sticking with this one.

It’s just really hard getting out of bed when you have absolutely nothing you have to do for the whole day.

The chase

Our pet cat is a bit different from others. I’ve just spent the last ten minutes playing a weird version of hide and seek with him, where I run down the hallway and hide in one of the rooms, and he comes shooting after me. Then I run into the lounge and crouch behind the couch, and moments later he dashes into the room, trying to find me.

I’ve never had a cat that actually chases me when I run and hide. He is truly peculiar. He doesn’t seem to get tired of this little game either, he loves it. Everywhere I hide, he comes running to find me. On the off chance he misjudges and starts looking for me in the wrong room, I hear a plaintive meow from somewhere in the house, and have to call his name so he knows where I am.

I tried catching some video of our little game on my phone, but as I have discovered, my film skills are shockingly poor.

I think Tonka is a dog, trapped in a cat’s body.

Unconditionally

Our kitten has developed a sudden and inexplicable limp over the last two days.

We first noticed it while having some classmates around for drinks. It wasn’t a huge limp, but it was noticeable. We put him away in my room to have a rest, and figured it was probably just bruised somehow.

Later in the night he ventured out into the living room again, this time with his limp dramatically pronounced. We started to worry.

When I was getting ready for bed, I heard a plaintive meow outside my bedroom door. As I opened it, the kitten hobbled in, this time holding his foot off the ground altogether. At this point my flatmate and I were quite worried, and trying to figure out what on earth was wrong with him. We decided that if he was still as bad in a few days we’d take him to the vet, or Sacha would get hold of a chiropractor she knew who worked on horses, because horses, cats, what’s the difference?

Feeling sorry for the little guy, I let him sleep on my bed that night. While I was happily wasting time on the internet and chatting to friends on Facebook, I leaned down to pat him where he lay at the foot of my bed. This woke him up, and despite his sore foot, he got up and painstakingly limped his way up the bed so he could cuddle up beside me.

That cat freaking loves me.

Things that go bump

I was folding up towels and sheets earlier to put away. I took the stack of towels with me and shoved them into the cupboard, then trotted back to the living room to grab the sheets and squeeze them in there as well. I then specifically remember closing the cupboard door, which made this next part a little alarming.

While sitting in the lounge watching a random sitcom, I heard a thumping noise coming from the other end of the house. I walked into the hallway and saw the cupboard door was slightly ajar. It’s not the kind of door that can easily open itself, so I was somewhat perplexed at this sight.

It was then that I noticed what could either be the corner of a towel or the tip of a furry, ginger paw poking out of the door. I pulled the door open and out tumbled my kitten, who immediately shook his little head and dashed off to the living room, no doubt eager to escape this tomb of linen in which he had found himself ensconced.

And that, cats, is why you don’t sneak into cupboards while your owner isn’t looking.

Blue collar crime

My kitten Tonka has a little blue collar that we bought him when we first adopted him from the SPCA, and no matter what he always manages to eventually wriggle out of it.

The annoying thing is, it’s the only one we have that fits him, because it’s the only one that can be adjusted to any length. His other collar is still too big for him.

Now, for the most part, he keeps the damn collar on and goes about his business as usual, but every now and then I’ll find it sitting somewhere on the floor rather than around his neck like it’s supposed to be. Once I even found it in his litter box.

Tonka has definitely taken to being allowed outside. He loves to roam around and do whatever it is he does out there, then come back in late at night and get in the way while I’m trying to do things on my computer. One day he came back in sans collar.

“Ugh”, my flatmate and I muttered. Who knew where it could be? A cursory glance around the house showed it certainly wasn’t inside anywhere. We’d have to get him another collar that could be adjusted like that one.

Fast forward a few days later. I walk into the lounge and lo and behold, the collar, looking decidedly worse for wear, is sitting innocently on the floor beside the couch.

It’s looking a lot more frayed and frazzled than when I last saw it, which leads me to believe Tonka had stashed it somewhere for secret playtime, before bringing it back home like a trophy.

There’s a high chance my cat may be a magician.

The shaky city

Wellington took my earthquake virginity.

Well, that’s not strictly true. If we were getting technical, I’d say the first earthquake I ever experienced was in Tauranga earlier this year or late last year, but that one was so tiny that I was left wondering if was just my own stomach rumbling. I had a bit of a Crocodile Dundee moment when comparing that one to the latest swarm in the capital.

“That’s not an earthquake. That’s an earthquake.”

And an earthquake it most certainly was. Friday’s 5.7 was the first time I’d ever felt the earth shake, and as I mentioned in another post, I didn’t actually realise anything was up until someone else in the office said something.

Then, of course, there was Sunday’s 6.5, the one that actually got me out of bed and underneath the door frame. I can’t say I felt nervous when it happened. I guess I’ve taken on that attitude of ‘it won’t happen to me’. You know, the attitude that always leaves people surprised when actually, something does happen to them.

Of course, since all of this I’ve become overly attuned to the movements of everything around me now. I sit at my desk and wonder if I’m feeling an aftershock, or simply someone walking past with heavy footsteps. I lie in bed trying to sleep and wonder if the room is shaking, or if it’s just my cat shaking the bed while he cleans himself. To be honest, the worst part about these earthquakes, for me, is the constant uncertainty of what I’m feeling and what might be just around the corner.

And there’s the newly formed crack in my bedroom ceiling. That is sufficiently ominous.

Spiderkitten

Tonka has this little yellow ring from a Vegemite jar that Nana-di gave him to play with, and he absolutely loves the thing. One of the games I like to play with him is hanging the ring up on the corner of a brick wall in the house, and watching him try to jump for it. It wasn’t long before he somehow tapped into his gravity defying spiderman skills and simply climbed the wall to get it down.

I won’t lie, I was impressed.

Look at that little tail.