Shelby's Gift

Hal, 5 yr old Coon-type, today’s Guest Blogger

It’s been pretty quiet here…

Pretty quiet.

Yup.

Then it got less quiet.

We all have our little things we do.  Sebastian mattes and makes hair balls.  Noah, my brothah, throws up.

Chai likes to cheer everyone up by acting like a little kit.  She’s odd that way.

Jasmine gets colds easily and gets snot on all of us when she’s stressed.

The house starts looking and smelling funny when they all get stressed.

I am much neater about my stress activity.  I collect socks.  I keep them in a special place, usually somewhere on the stairs going up to the second floor.

Mom seems frustrated sometimes by this.

Which I don’t understand.

I mean, I’m helping her.  Right?

Two days ago, she put them all in baskets behind closed doors, so I no longer need to help her.

Today, some large scary people brought funny looking trees into our dining room.  It has something to do with “Thekitchenisbeingdemolishedonthursday” and “newhardwoodfloors” and there seems to be lots of happiness about this.

I’m thinking there may be some rather stressful days coming up.

I’ll have to help Mom pile her bras on the stairs for her.  I think she’d like that.

Though they are much longer than socks.

I trip on them.

They taste funny.

On the Names of Cats

Guest Post – Chai Lai Temperance Chadbourne

Much as been written on the naming of cats. Hoomans have composed poems, and written short passages and long novels reflecting on what they think we are thinking when it comes to our names. A whole play has even sprinkled the subject amongst it’s script.

We are as varied as any species in our view on names and naming. We have many different opinions. Cats and their hoomans each fulfill their own contract and the naming of things and beings plays into that. Some hoomans have many names they respond to. Business meeting names differ from family names, nicknames, the name that is bellowed across the living room when a hooman is intoxicated with others of its colony. Other hoomans interact based upon one or two different names in all situations. Just as hoomans respond to different names in different situations, we cats respond depending on the activity or expectation as well.

Hoomans who love us often state they love the fact that we don’t come when called by name. They claim they value our independance But, in fact, we do. Speaking from my own experience, I think my favorite name ever that I come for is “Sh-thth-TUCK”. What kind of name is that, might you ask? You may not see it as a name, but I do. It’s the name Mom calls when she opens a can of cat fuud. This tends to be a very common and popular name for us.

Our CEO, Sebastian, has a name that none of us understand. Mom calls “ReadygoBed?” and he quite loves that. He responds every time she calls it, although it seems to be a primarily nocturnal name. She often uses it in the evenings when it’s dark out.

Clara is one of us who usually only keeps her one name. Calling “Clarabelle!” usually sets her into a powerwalk beeline for the nearest Mom, regardless of whether food, love or something else is offered at the other end. Food, attention, food, and food are all she ever gets from having just one name, but she seems to not mind it too much.

Hoomans have suggested that we have names that they are not aware of. This is very true. Many feel they have to give us names for absolutely every situation, including “Knockit OFF”, “Getoffthe TABLE”, and “Be NICE”. They tend to call us all types of awful names that sound harsh. But they are forgetting that we have names we call each other that they never learn about. Some people do learn, but more often than not, they have not taken the time to try and learn them.

For instance, My friend Jasmine looks like me, and I always call her “LOOKLIKEMEletsplay”. That’s my name for her. Clarabelle always calls me “YousoMEAN” and I don’t think she means it in a nice way. She always yells it with a snarl and a hiss. But if that’s the name she likes for me, I don’t mind! I like all of the names my friends give me.

Sebastian has some odd names as well. He calls many of us the same name. I’m not ever sure who he asking for when he looks at me and Hal, and Clara and says “IdidNOTget Thememo”. He also calls us “Dontannoyme” quite often. He tends to be very organized and has post-it notes everywhere to remind himself of things. He likes paperwork as well. SO I would have expected he could develop slightly more varied names for us. But that’s okay.

Hal and Noah seem to be imported from the moon, because they have a strange language all their own. They are primarily silent and often use tail language instead of their words. The name they most often use is when I hear them mutter “soulbrother” to each other. Beyond that, they don’t say much. Noah’s only name for me is “Donthurtme”. He actually calls everyone that, except for Hal.

Noah loves working with the kittens who come in and go out again. They usually haven’t developed their naming abilities yet, so they come and learn how to name people for a while so they can learn how hoomans name their animals. Then, once they get the hang of that, Noah names all of them “Love”. Shortly after that, they leave again to find their own hooomans who will name them things like “Getoffthe Curtains” and “Here Kittykittykitty” and “Omygawd Youpukedagain”. It seems funny to me that for one who has so few names, he teaches them so much about them. But it works well for him and is fun to watch.

Perhaps this gives you another new idea about the names of cats. Perhaps not. But it was sure fun to write! Thanks Mom!

Chai Lai Temperance Chadbourne

Perfectly Practical

Wouldn’t we all love to be happy perfect relaxed moms?

Always have it all figured out?

The kids just nurse, then they walk and eat on their own, then they are off to school and new lives?

Hm. Well, we think a lot more than some moms.

And sometimes it gets in the way.

I met a pretty cool mom a couple weeks back.

She’s living in my basement.

Yes, she is a foster cat.

The shelter called me asking how I felt about a pregnant momcat.

Twist my arm please.

I tend to get a bit anxious because of all the things that COULD go wrong. Just like when I was pregnant, I read all the stuff they give people to read to know all of the possible complications.

Part of it is disclosure, it’s kind of important to know. Part of it is CYA. “Well, we did tell you this could happen.”

But I stopped reading after a while. The basics are pretty good, and you pick up some information a long the way. But I chose to stop reading because I started to feel hopeless.

So she came, regardless of all the worries.

7.something pounds. Long and skinny. Came the day after her Doctor-determined due date.

How perfect is that?

By the way, she still is my perfect little munchkin.

So, yes I took on a pregnant cat. There’s lots that can go wrong, but I trust her. I have back-up phone numbers, and back-ups for those back-ups. And a Paramedic in the house (my hubby) isn’t such a bad thing, either It’s actually really good for logical thinking. Not alone here.

She had a perfect birthing of four perfect little healthy kittens.

She trills and cleans. She nurses and hugs them. If we get too touchy with them, she doesn’t attack. She simply covers them with her body and waits for you to leave. Works out pretty well. The kids are safe and she gets the pets!

She scratches at the door to get us to pet her. Doesn’t need much, just a minute or two and she’s good.

She naps on the pool table to escape them. Not for long. But she makes time for her little reprieve.

She likes us to give her attention and she just doesn’t worry about stuff. We ask “where are they?” and she motions with her head, “Oh, they’re over there… They are fine…” and trips us so we’ll pet or feed her.

She’s got this thing down.

Before too long, they really started wandering. I once found one 10 feet from the nest. I put her back and petted Mom a bit hoping she’d pay attention to them. I look at them and say, “Ooh, does that look right? Is this okay? I hope she feeds that one, it’s looking too small.”

Two days later, I go back to check on them.

The nest is empty.

Uh… Okay, don’t panic. They are in this hoard-stacked basement somewhere.

Mom, meanwhile is lounging to her fullest length in front of the magazine table. She isn’t worried.

Preparing to dig, I set my things down and rush back. I go over to her and ask if she can help me find them, and she looks at me like, “Why? They’re safe!”

I am not sure why she is so calm, but knowing she is calm anyway, gives me a touch of hope. Did she already resolve a problem that really isn’t a problem?

Well, actually…

Bending down, I find four little bundles piled up in a box.

She looks at me as if to say, “Well, they were escaping! I had to contain them somehow! I got it covered!”

Sigh.

What a great mom.

She’s thinking nice and clear She provides them what they need; food, baths and lots of hugs. She takes good care of herself; small vacations on the pool table, loving from us.

I’m proud to have her in our lives.

And proud to promise her her own life and home when her little munchkins are ready to graduate and find their own paths.

Life is What You Make It

It’s pretty easy to feel your mood get lower and lower and lower. When you think you have hit solid rock, something more happens. I don’t know if Mercury is retrograding again (Isn’t it always?), but I’m finally catching up from the last few weeks.

Talk about letting go!

Before the horse show, the world felt like it was collapsing, and boxing me in the ears on the way down. Sick kittens, scared foster cat, finding a lump on my own cat. The little things were increasing the tornadic energy more than they usually would. The sour milk was an indicator of impending apocalypse.

But I went to the horse show. Enjoying a sense of heaven after experiencing what felt like hell.

The second I got there, my whole mood changed. I said to myself, “nothing can get me down here.”

So what if I haven’t driven my show horse in three weeks! He’s smart and he loves me. We’ll be fine. Just go have fun.

And I did.

First class was about just getting back in and doing it. We had a blast and he was very cute.

Second class; our drive was better and we won the class! He was perfect and I drove him well.

The fan base grows. People I don’t even know are cheering for us.

The third class put lots of things in perspective. I drove the pants off him, and he reveled in every second of it! Best drive I think we’ve ever had. We came out with a Reserve Championship.

The fourth class was harder. I was tired and he was annoyed. But we showed well and came out with our second Reserve Championship ribbon for the show.

But the best part of this week awasn’t about placing or ribbons. It was about the way my horse and I took care of each other.

In the third class, we were pinned against the wall by a horse having trouble off the rail and moving unpredictably. Things were pretty hairy for a second. We didn’t really have anywhere to go, we were too far up next to the horse and cart to be able to duck behind and swing out. It was an option but not a very good one.

Scotty picked his head up and turned it so he could see. He kept trotting but he almost trotted in place. He knew this wasn’t good. He asked, with a flick of the ear, “What’re we doin’, ma?”

I looked, hesitated, and looked again. I gave the horse a second to choose the wall or the center of the ring. I said to him, “Hold on, we got this. Which way, which way…”

He stopped to keep us safe and to give another millisecond for things to happen. The horse started toward the center of the ring and we both saw the gap at the same time. I said in my head, “Take it!” and he reacted almost before I did and took the space, moving directly back into his pleasure trot, as though he had never dropped it.

It takes painfully long seconds to write and read, but this happened almost instantly. Count maybe a “mississippi” or two and that’s how quick it happened.

We lined up and I realized what a great horse I have. I said to my trainer, “ I don’t care about the placing, I have a really great horse and we make a really great team.” He laughed and smiled. He later mentioned “It was really refreshing to hear you say that.”

I placed a Reserve Championship out of 6 entries, and I was pretty thrilled. But setting the ribbon aside, the drive that night reinforced my confidence in Scotty and I as a team, as friends who trust, rely on, and work out problems equally together.

Not to get too preachy, but I also enjoy this with the people most important in my life. My husband, my family, and my closest friends. I share this kind of partnership with them. It’s refreshing to me when my husband says, “We’re equals, we work on things together.” We communicate stuff, like Scotty and I did and take the facts that are presented.

Spider Lint

I’ve been awake for almost four days now. I catch bits of sleep when I can, but it’s starting to tell.

I have a foster cat mother who had four babies three weeks and three days ago. She has been doing well, but the past week has been very scary. One baby died, and it seemed as though Mom was dried up.

I have the skills and resources to syringe feed hungry, dehydrated babies, and that went pretty well. Mom helps me with things I can’t do, like lick them clean with her rough kitty-tongue. She sits and trills the whole time, calming them so I can feed them.

But her emotions are as volatile as mine. She must feel frustrated. Last week was spent doing what I could: feeding every four to five hours, pottying, and watching mom to figure out what is going on. She was aggressive one morning with them. I thought I would have to take them away. But my gut said, no, she’s having a moment of stress. So I kept helping, kept an eye on her.

Now things are getting back to normal. She nurses as much as she can, but she is so little. All I can figure is they need more than she can give.

While I have found things to do to support this situation physically, the emotional component has been really unnerving. The ambiguity of her emotional state leaves me unsure of so much. Checking in with what she wants has yielded various results, possibly based on her own level of fear, sadness, frustration and hormones as a new mom. All is heightened by the fact that yesterday I was supposed to leave for a horse show for a week. I need to figure out whether they come and who comes if they do.

I am, of course, exhausted. I got out of the shower and saw something on the floor. Could be a spider, could be lint. (Spider Lint). There was recently a spider discussion among two forums I frequent in which animal communication students challenge their intense fear or revulsion of a certain animal. They move past the blocking fear to open to the wisdom that animal could offer.

It occurred to me that my own intense fear was a stimulus and what would happen if I simply released it? All of that emotional ambiguity is swept away and what’s left is a reality that I can respond to.

Turned out, it was lint. But the thought process helped and I also realized exactly how exhausted I am.

Babysitter

Foster kittens go through this house like toilet paper.

We turn out some happy, bouncy, loving kittens. A little wild thing hasn’t a chance but to develop into a sweet, affectionate, people-oriented kitty when it comes to Casa Chadbourne.

We love to see the transformation in feral kittens and young cats who come to us for socialization. But the Hoomans can only accomplish so much. Being non-cat, we haven’t the finest attributes of felinity down like our colony does.

Chai is a big, round, soft Siamese snowshoe. She came in February of 2010, a scared little girl who came out of the back of her cage for my husband. She is pretty cool.

She helps us with the kittens. Once we are fairly sure we can sort of catch them when they run, they are rewarded with porch time. The screened-in porch is safe in weather. The cats are safe from the “horrible” freedom of the outdoors.

The air smells good, the squirrels entertain, the chickens look tasty out in the chicken run, and the couch is comfy so they can get used to those big scary Hoomans (kind of like the Daleks or the Borg; “Resistance is Futile”).

And our feline team can interact if they want.

Chai asks to come out with the kittens. She sits like a Sphinx, head up, body stretched out, paws together out in front. She gazes proprietarily over her charges as they play and explore. When they ask to play with her, she does to a certain extent. She teaches them boundaries. A bat on the head, claws retracted, or walking away tells them she is done. If they bite or get strong, she tells them “Nope. Not acceptable.” If they don’t honor her request, she will leave. She comes in or she escapes to a high place. They have lost the privilege of her company.

She waits for a half hour and asks to return.

A bump here, a bat there. The older adolescent who’s good with kids, supports and teaches, but always behaves as the caretaker.

Those kittens have transformed into the sweetest, kindest, smartest kittens Casa Chadbourne has ever released into the world!

Been a long few years.

Four years ago, I got my husband a dog. Like an adult, I know I am also responsible for the care of the dog. Especially because he often works a 24 hour shift twice a week. Dog isn’t a cat. Dog needs to be fed walked and is often a little more dependent on the person for its needs.

Cats? Have staff.

I never had a dog. I’m your typical Crazy Cat Lady.  And this one isn’t the easiest dog.  She fits perfectly into our family.  She’s smart, stubborn, and very resourceful. She has been quite a challenge for me to learn about.

Animals often mirror their owners for different reasons. They either draw attention to stuff in ourselves that could use a bit of tweaking. Or they take on an issue to try and protect us from it.

My dog?

Is on Prozac.

She mirrors my aggression and anger. She herself is not angry or aggressive. But I get that way and she responds by biting me. She only does it with me.

Owner-Directed Aggression.

And it’s very common. An easy fix.

Hm.  For some reason, I find that interesting…

She is also on an anti-anxiety medication.

Like me.

Not the same one, but it smooths things over.  Both of us are thinking a little clearer these days.

I control my anger, and walk away instead. She is the cute bouncy, happy dog we always wanted.  Still smart stubborn and very resourceful.  But we are finding the middle ground together.

Needless to say, my husband is extremely relieved we are finding a path! He sure does love her.

I’m ready for my own home, MA!!!

nom nom nom.

Once a feral, doesn’t she look so ready?

Oscar in Mid Yawn

merry christmas to me.  merry christmas to me!  merry CHRISTMAS to meeeeee.  merry christmas to me…  (sung to happy birthday)

After fostering since 24^th of September, Jasmine has been through a few rounds of medications and has been first and foremost a foster cat to us.

We have been very careful to keep her in our minds as a foster cat. With 5 in the house, we have known that she needed to go to her own special family. Manifesting the right home for our fosters is a primary goal as I work with each cat. I envision the perfect family and send out those vibes that say, “Okay, he’s ready. Come and get him!”

A lovely and very traditional Siamese, Jasmine has her own challenges. With a Grade 4 (out of 6) heart murmur and upper respiratory challenges that tax her more than they would a normal hearted cat, Jasmine needs just the perfect family to care for her.

This family is a group of people who understand the Siamese breed and their behavioral idiosyncrasies. They understand and accept the possible challenges of a cat with a Grade 4 heart murmur. It doesn’t necessarily mean lots of vet bills, but, at the same time, there is no way to solidly say this won’t be the case. They care more about sharing their world with this amazing and exciting little cat, and feel grateful for spending each minute she chooses to spend with them. The possible vet bills, scares, and even the reality that her life may be shorter than other cats, doesn’t matter.

It’s normal for me to get attached to my fosters. I give them love and attention, because it is vital to the overall health of each cat. Medications support the physical healing of an animal, but, depending on the animal’s personality, isolating it in a room from other cats may not be in it’s best interest. Thus, while I try to follow shelter-established protocol, sometimes a cat just needs to be with other cats and people on a daily basis.

When this is the case, I keep the animal in my heart, but at a distance. They get the love and attention they need as part of a normal family. But I focus on the manifestation of the perfect home when I interact with or talk about the cat. After working with and letting go of more than 300 cats over the past 10 years, I am pretty good at it, though it is never much fun.

I’ve been doing very well, staying loving but detached with Jasmine. She has been here just over two months, and has been out with the rest of the colony for a solid 6 weeks. Her issues with breathing are solely her own, she has not transmitted anything to anyone. She has good days and bad days, and we just roll with each day. I keep all of the facts in my head as I write her bio over and over again. I keep forward in my mind the need to schedule some weekend time to promote her at the shelter, design and print out her bio, make sure her pictures are out there and that we get some video so people can see how great she is. She gets the cuddles and loving she asks for, but always in my head is the reality of doing a little extra legwork to promote this cat.

Then, December 2^nd, it all went straight down the tubes. My husband approached me with an envelope. “I have an early Christmas present in mind.” he says. This is totally unexpected, I can’t even begin to imagine what it is. “You’ll understand when you open it.” As part of a responsible and caring family, my husband knows discussing the addition of a family member is a huge responsibility. Animals are not a whim. They are living breathing Beings whose lives should be full and flourishing if they live with us. We know this after seeing so many animals who were just a whim.

I opened the envelope and there it is. A photo of Jasmine and I, I’m holding her upside down in my arms in the kitchen (I first thought he was giving me a new kitchen when I peeked at the very first corner before opening the photo all the way!). After picking up my jaw and repositioning it on my face, I asked to make sure he was sure.  Of course he replied in the affirmative.

This is a man who has had to be very strong for me sometimes. There have been many cats who I have wanted to keep. He has been good about supporting the need for them to find the right family, and that we are not that family. He always speaks with compassion and is gentle, but he is firm as well. We make a good pair because of this.

For him to say yes to a number 6 cat just amazed me. What did she do to gain this honor?

“I walked by her the other night when she was napping on the bed. I said ‘Hey Shel’ and then realized what I’d done. In that moment, I realized what this cat means to me,” he said.

Jasmine, more than any other cat we have ever known, has re-connected us with my soulmate girl I lost three years ago. She is not Shelby at all. I know this. But she is very much like her.

The veil of disconnect dropped when I realized just how serious he was. I cried and hugged and hugged and cried, thoroughly getting our shiny certified pre-owned cat, very wet and very annoyed.

The neatest thing? The reason for this title? Is this…

The cat knows too. Since he talked with her (yes, he talked with her, and Sebastian, who also agreed to this), Jasmine has settled in completely. Yesterday, she sang and sang for the first time since being with us. She sleeps soundly, completely relaxed. She closes her eyes all the way, without keeping a guarded slitted eye on what is happening around her. She throws her body against me and bats my face to wake me in the morning.

Jasmine knows, as do the other cats, that she completely belongs here. For 24 hours after my husband accepted her, she stared at him, waiting for him to tell me.

She knew all along.

While we know 6 is a lot of cats, Jazzy belongs with us in her own special niche. She has settled into her own sphere of influence, friend to Chai, complete cuddlebug to me and my husband and my “bean” (my daughter), and a constant source of laughter. Jasmine is Jasmine, no one else. She comes to us bringing love and healing in her own special way.