Bump in the night (or you had ONE job)

There are three cats in my rural home. They are all fully functional and quite well catered to. It took them over 48 hours to simply flush a mouse.

One day, Ziggy was paying a lot of attention to one of the return air grates for our furnace. So, being the best cat assistant I could, I grabbed a screwdriver and opened the grate. She grabbed the resident mouse and took off.

I was able to confine her in the laundry room with the mouse. By then, Ruby and Mojo had joined in on the chase. So I closed the door and expected to return shortly to find three triumphant felines and the spoils of their efforts.

When I returned, three cats were peering under the washer.

Okay, so we wait.

First night, nothing.

And we wait.

The next night, in the middle of the night, there was a commotion. The mouse had been cornered by all 3 cats in the powder room. So I closed the door to the tiny room and expected to return shortly . . . (see above).

I had to open the door because Ziggy was scratching to be let out of the room. Apparently she was bored.

I just left the door open and figured we’d have to set a trap to look after our unwanted guest.

When I walked into the dining room this morning before my coffee, the cats were sitting in a circle, and there was the punch-drunk mouse, crouched in the middle, plotting its next move.

They had ONE job.

Max and The New Kitten

Dear Max,

You were the perfect cat for students. You loved to drape yourself across our textbooks and notebooks as we studied. You were fastidious and forgiving. We sometimes let the litter box go longer than ideal and there were no problems. You were easy to feed. We could just keep food in the bowl at all times and you would eat what you needed. And you loved to cuddle on a warm lap in the evening.

One summer, I worked at a horse farm and show venue. I’ll tell the story of how that little scrawny kitten came to our apartment when I write letters to him, but you were the unfortunate victim of that decision so I’ll share your challenges here.

You were about four years old when I arrived home from work, smelling of horses and sweat and dirt, with a scrawny little black and white kitten in a fruit basket. He squalled and cried and puffed up like a pint-sized Halloween cat when he saw you.

Because Dennis was just six weeks old when he came to live with us, you were able to adapt to him as he grew. He couldn’t climb or keep up with you at first, so you were able to approach him at will. You could also easily escape by simply jumping up onto the furniture. I think this made a huge difference in how well you accepted him.

I recall you took it pretty much in stride until Dennis grew up a little. Juvenile cats are active, playful and can be quite rough. You were the victim of the rough, and aside from some swearing and spitting, you dealt with him very well. He did learn a few manners (not many, but a few) with your gentle guidance.

The biggest problem came when Dennis discovered an ‘all-you-can-eat’ buffet in the food bowl.

It took us a while to realize there was a problem. Because there were two of us putting food into the bowl on a regular basis, it wasn’t the amount of food that tipped us off. It was a younger cat starting to look a little fat and the older cat (you) starting to look a little too thin.

That’s when I realized that some cats, like you, are great at self-regulation with their food. Others, like Dennis, feel the urge to empty the bowl, even when they are obviously getting more than they need.

How did we solve the problem? Well, we figured out how much of the food you needed (¾ cup a day each). Dennis adapted by figuring out that he just needed to be annoying and persistent to score an extra meal, so we started a chart on a dry erase board on the fridge. Morning and evening feedings for 2 cats, checked off when they were given. Two bowls in different rooms, so you didn’t have to wait behind Mr. Greedy for your food.

You were never a heavy cat, but you did gain back the weight and maintained it well, as long as we kept track.

Thank you for accepting this new homeless kitten into our lives with such grace and tolerance.

What did this teach me?

  • You need to keep track of how much food your pets are eating. Aside from their weight, changes in food intake can tell you a lot about their health. Setting up a simple feeding plan (how much, who, when) can help a lot. Dry erase boards are your friend if you have multiple pets.
  • Cats can adjust to changes in the household, but you should introduce new pets slowly and make sure they have escape options in case things get too stressful.

How cats think

We love our cats, but sometimes they can be hard to live with. House soiling, aggression and destructive behaviour make it a challenge to have certain cats in your home. Why do they do these things?

It’s a huge area of current study, and also a difficult area to approach.

We can’t do experiments on cats to predict how they may act in a home because it’s not ethical, and because the results might not be helpful.

What’s the next best thing?

Behaviour surveys can be very helpful, but researchers need a large number of results in order to draw conclusions and help cats.

Consider spending a bit of time helping the University of Pennsylvania help cats by taking the FeBARQ questionnaire. The questionnaire is open to cat owners, and will give you some feedback at the end. It takes about 15 minutes.

Max meets a dog

Dear Max,

You were happy being an only cat. You moved with us in and out of several apartments and rooms, without issue. We moved around like students do as we transitioned from our first university to Guelph and my time at OVC.

Veterinary school!

You were an excellent study cat. You would do your best to cover all of the papers on my desk, and especially the one I needed to see right at that moment. You enjoyed your food and probably got a little bit chubby. And you were perfectly happy living in our little one bedroom second storey apartment in student housing.

As our schooling progressed, we started to work with real live animals. Some of them were teaching animals, living at the school for varying times before they found homes. At one point, we were ready to perform spay and neuter surgeries for a local rescue. That’s when I met a dog named Lucky.

If you spend much time talking to folks in my line of work, you’ll know that we don’t recommend calling any pet ‘Lucky’. Be that as it may, Lucky and I seemed to bond right away. He would come to me and follow my commands and I knew he needed a home. I talked to the coordinator at the school and arranged for Lucky to come home with me for a trial period.

If Lucky and I were living alone together, it would have worked out fine. He came to bed with me, snuggled up between the pillows and acted like my best friend and protector. My husband probably would have worked out a way to sneak into bed without activating Lucky’s protective instincts. Well, maybe. Let’s just say it was obvious what Lucky thought of him.

But, dear Max, you were more than put out. After the first few days, when Lucky decided he no longer needed to be on his best behaviour, you were simply terrorized. You’d had no experience with dogs and this was a Jack Russell Terrier who seemed to be well-versed in the fine details of cat chasing.

You were our first pet, we’d made a commitment to you. It was obvious Lucky had to go back. We couldn’t risk what might happen if he did catch up to you, and you were stressed out by his presence in your normally peaceful bed.

The coordinator at the school understood immediately and I returned Lucky the next day. I hope he found a lovely cat-free home. I know you were pleased with your newly terrier-free home.

What did I learn?

  • Some pets just can’t live together, especially in a small space.
  • Sometimes it’s just not a good day to adopt a new pet, no matter how strongly you feel.
  • You must consider the quality of life of animals you’ve already made a commitment to. Even when it’s not what you wish for.

Max and the Skunk

Dear Max,

In the summers, we visited my parents and lived in the basement of their lovely country home on twenty-five acres. Even though you were timid, you came to like spending time outside on your harness and leash.

Although their house is back from the road, it’s a paved country road with an official speed limit of 80 kph and an unofficial limit of ‘¼ mile max speed’. We lost cats on that road when I was growing up, so you weren’t going to be heading outside by yourself.

You were a thin cat, and back then harnesses for cats were just a double loop of fabric. I remember the first time I put your red harness on. The red fabric looked so lovely on your jet black fur. And you fell over onto your side and would not move. Same every day for about the first week.

Once you decided to walk in your harness, it opened a new world for you. There were gardens to explore, grass to taste and trees to climb. You seemed to enjoy sitting out in the grass beside me while I read a book.

One summer evening, while I sat outside with you, the leash was suddenly slack. You’d slipped out of your harness and silently disappeared. We called and searched, we looked for you for hours. No sign of you that evening at all. I cried myself to sleep that night.

In the morning, you were on the doorstep, scratching to be let in when the first person was up. You came in and straight to our bedroom – bringing with you the pungent, unmistakable stench of skunk. Everyone was up in short order that morning.

We corralled you into the bathroom and I headed to the local vet clinic for a remedy. They sold me a skunk wash and we treated you with it. I learned that day how much you hated water. The hate was strong, but not quite as strong as the skunk smell.

You spent the next few days in our room, grooming yourself. Obsessively. Every spare moment was spent licking, slurping or wiping at yourself.

And then you stopped eating. And started vomiting.

I called the vet clinic and learned cats that aren’t eating need help right away. If we waited more than 24 hours or so, you could go into liver failure. Off we went to the clinic.

It seems that something you ingested off your own fur, maybe the oils from the skunk spray or the ingredients in the wash, had upset your stomach. We were lucky that quick treatment with some fluids and injections got you back on track for us.

After that, you were more content to stay near the house with someone. We probably didn’t even need the harness any more. You’d learned your lesson.

What did I learn from this?

  • Sometimes no matter what you do, you can’t keep them safe.
  • A problem that seems minor and easy to solve can get worse suddenly, so pay attention and ask for help early.
  • Curiosity can cause a lot of problems.

Cats with claws

We don’t declaw cats any more unless there is a health issue.

We know that scratching is a natural behaviour and cats are healthier when they can express these behaviours So how do we manage scratching without allowing destruction of our homes and furniture?

By learning more about the reasons cats scratch, and providing the best places on earth for scratching to happen in our homes.

cat scratch

There are some great cat-focused organizations that offer wonderful advice. The American Association of Feline Practitioners have a cat owner website with lots of information about cat scratching and clawing behaviour and how you can set up a scratching post as well as how to deter your cat from selected areas.

If those tips don’t work, then the folks who make underground fencing for dogs also offer indoor cat solutions — often for less cost than a declaw surgery, and certainly at less stress and pain for your kitty.

If you’re at your wits’ end and don’t know what to do, call us. We’ve been there.