Sucky Update

Friends, it's me, and I'm not writin' much cuz I feel way too groggy. I just thought I'd tell you I'm home. I'll let the human tell the rest. I gotta sleep!




Well, there's good news and there's news that could be good or bad depending on how you look at it. The good news is that she's home and alive and as normal as a cat can be after having been given an anaesthetic. The not so certain news is that they didn't find anything up her nose. They did find a few marks and scratches, some of which had a discharge, but they didn't spot a foreign body. It's good because at least there's nothing up there, but not so good because it would have been nice to have a concrete reason for the sneezing.





The vet, who's incredibly nice, by the way, says that it looks as though Tia got too up close and personal with a bramble, but Dogman says he doesn't have any in the garden at this time of year. I'm not so sure though. The vet says it looks like the bramble got sniffed a little too much, and that it pricked her on the inside of the nose. That would account for the marks, and to some extent, for the sneezing.





While she was sedated, they flushed out and cleaned both nostrils very thoroughly, and although she's sneezed a few times since she's been home, it's nothing compared with how it was. Now that could be because the anaesthetic is dulling the urge, but I'm going for the more hopeful option that the flush means there'll be hardly any more sneezes. The vet did say that she could have flushed something small out that she just didn't see, and the suction did pick up quite a lot of loose hairs when we did it earlier, so it could be a combination of the discharge making the hairs clump, then the hairs becoming and irritant rather than being flushed out. The fact is, we just don't know.





I've been sent home with some anti-inflammatories to give her, and she's been injected with antibiotics and anti-inflammatories to keep her going for the next day or so. Hopefully, the combination will mean that we don't see any more sneezing at all. Now I've just got to somehow find the cash for yet more staggeringly huge vet bills. Ah, Tia, what a costly thing loving you is! I'd not change it for the world though.





She's already getting her tortitude back. After she'd fallen off the sofa due to poor coordination, she whined at me until I lifted her back up there. She got really comfy on her back, and it took me five whole minutes to be able to move her from that position so that I could sit down. Claws and teeth did what they could to prevent me, little madam, but it's encouraging to see that an anaesthetic doesn't leave her lethargic for days on end. Knowing my luck, it'll wear off fully just in time for her to start screaming and shouting on the journey home tomorrow. I'm sorry that Tia's vet visit has stolen the Supposedly Sage Sunday spot, but I hope Kara will post anyway.

Sucky Sunday: In More Ways Than One.

Friends, this Sunday does indeed suck. It sucks worse than yesterday, and that's saying something.




My nose has been driving me absolutely nuts. Imagine having someone constantly tickling you with a feather. That's how bad it feels! I've been sneezing and sneezing and the more I sneeze, the more it tickles. Even when I purr, it irritates. It's hard though. When the human picks me up, my instinct is to begin purring immediately, but of course, I've had to stop myself doing that. I give her little tiny ones, but as soon as I do, I sneeze again. Still, I keep trying for her.





This morning, the human woke up not because I was shouting at her, but cuz I climbed up on the pillow by her head for a snuggle. I was just settling quietly down so that when she wakened, I'd be right there for strokings, but just as my face was over hers, the urge hit me. She got sneeze juice in the face a whole four times! I was scared. I thought she'd be cross with me. She doesn't usually like waking up, and although she's not usually scary, this was a big step up in the wake up human war. I wouldn't like it if someone sneezed in my face. She just rolled over and held me in close though and said we'd go see the vet when Dogman was awake to help us get there. And that's what we did.





It was a vet lady people this time, and on the outset, she was lovely. Usually vet peoples don't talk to me, but she did. She gave me loads of cuddles when she was looking at me, and even rubbed my head quite nicely. But then she started to poke about in my nose. She shone a bright light up there, then put a magnifying glass there too. She said she thought she could see something, and out came the tweezers, but I couldn't stand it. Every time she put them up my nose, I flinched, and she was worried she was going to damage me. The human asked if they had something called suction. I didn't know what this was, but the vet lady people did, and seemed surprised when the human said I was well tempered enough to have her try it out while I was still awake. I started to get worried, but really, what else was there to do? The damned thing in my nose was just so tickly. I couldn't handle it any more!





I got even more worried when they wrapped me in a towel and put me on a special blanket. The vet lady people had put valerian on it to keep me calm, and had sprayed her hands with something that smelled like happy cats (feramones, she called them), but although it helped, it in no way prepared me for what was to come.





It all started with the noise. Imagine the sound of a car and a really angry hissing mancat or ladycat. It was a big cat though, and the hiss never stopped long enough for it to draw breath. Although I looked everywhere, all I could see was a tube in the vet's hand. The noise was coming from it. As she brought it closer to my face, I got more and more worried. Was she going to do what I thought she was? Surely it wasn't possible. But it was.





That tube with the angry cat and the car in it went right up my nose, and no matter how I twisted and turned, I couldn't escape the human who was cuddling me very, very tightly. She kept telling me it would be Ok over and over again, but it wasn't. I cried, I shouted, I got myself hunched up really small, but it made no difference. I was dripping spit from my mouth, I was covered in snot and I was not happy. To make matters worse, the lady people couldn't get the sucker in deep enough to catch the nasty up my nose. It's a horrid feeling having a hissing cat car tube sucking the inside of your nose, and when I got out of the towel, I clung to the human as tightly as I could. But there was worse to come.





I heard the word sedation. I know what that means. It means sleepies in the vet place. It also means no human. I don't like that, but as they spoke, I understood that it was the only way to get rid of the thing in my nose. The human left me at the vet lady people's house, and she got real nice to me again. As the human left, she was cuddling me and stroking me, and the human thinks she even heard her kiss me, but I'm not telling. Even though she does horrible things to me, I can't help liking her a little. i'm feeling pretty sleepy now though.





Human: She went into surgery about an hour and a half ago, and I'm just waiting for a phone call now to tell me how she's doing. I'm worried sick. The suction was hard on her, but she was a little trooper and didn't try and bite even once. I just hope they're able to get hold of whatever it is that's troubling her nose without too much trouble. I hate leaving her at the vets. I hate the risks involved in sedation. I hate it when she's sick. We need a break now. We've been at the vet's too often of late, and I want it to stop. Please keep my Tia in your thoughts today. She could do with positive vibes, and lots of them. I'll update as soon as I know more.

Sneezy Saturday

That's what I've been doing all day, friends, or most of it. Sneezing. I just can't seem to stop!




I went in the garden earlier with the human, and then again with Dogman this afternoon. It was after the second trip outdoors that I started to sneeze. The human can't work out whether I've got something stuck up my nose or whether I'm irritated by strange smells. She thinks the former cuz when I sneeze, I do it real big, but in between I do little breath catches and half snort sneeze things. My breath also catches a little when she flips me up. But then the sneezing did coincide with her and Dogman cooking dinner, and there was a little bit of smoke from the oven, and the smell of onion when they were chopping it, so we just don't know. Perhaps it was the smell of all that combined that set me off.





The human gave me some physio on my chest to try and help me move the stuff if something's lodged in there, but of course, if it's in my nose, this isn't going to help. Has anyone else ever had anything stuck up your nose so that you sneeze a lot? If so, how did you get rid of it? The vet peoples aren't working tomorrow, so the human's hoping we don't need to go there, as it would be an emergency and would cost a lot. Any suggestions?

Learning to Trust

Trust. Such a tiny word, but such a huge concept, is it not? It comes in so many guises, on so many different levels. There's the basic sort, the sort that tells me that, just like yesterday and the day before and the day before, I'll still have a warm place to lie, and a dry place out of the wind to curl up in and sleep today. Then there's the practical type. I trust that when I shout, my human will provide me food or love, or basically whatever I desire. This one's a little iffy though. Is it trust or certainty? I ask because a lot of training went into her to make sure she obliges whenever I wish it, but then she could change her mind and not give me what I want, so I suppose there's elements of both.




Then comes the trust in the unknown. I trust my human to keep me safe in new situations, and she trusts me to keep her safe from any mousies or stupid dogfaces or any other strange animal that might crop up in these new situations. Last night, for example, although I was a little ascared of all the big noises and the loud trains and the new peoples, I managed to sleep most of the way down on the train cuz I trusted that my human wouldn't let any of them harm me. I knew she'd be on watch while I dozed. My trust wasn't misplaced.





Those types are fairly straightforward, or as straightforward as anything of this nature can be, but they don't take into account the other trust; the hardest type to give, but the most rewarding when it isn't misplaced. This I call the intimate trust. I don't really know how to define it other than the letting down of the last barriers that you hold between yourself and others. For example, when you want a mancat and he gets close enough to do what he needs to, you gotta trust him not to tear your neck open while he's scruffing you. I haven't got there with mancats yet. My trust is hard to earn.





However, I'm starting to get there when it comes to my relationship between me and the human. I've always liked peoples, but in a sort of guarded way. My human doesn't think anyone's ever been cruel to me, but nor does she think I've been handled and cuddled quite as much as I should have been, nor shown that very quiet, patient, unassuming kindness that is the first stepping stone in the long path towards obtaining intimate trust. I say this because, although I snuggle with peoples, I won't do it straight away with strangers. I'm wary of them. Sure, I'll let them pick me up, but I don't really fully relax, and I certainly don't give them head bumpies or anything like that. I'm getting better at this. The human has taught me over time that most peoples, in fact all of them who come to my house, only want to love me and do nice things like give me scritches or chin tickles. There's still a long way to go, but I now feel happy enough to purr if a people is nice and gentle and considerate when they put me on their lap.





But I digress. I was talking about intimacy with the human; not the crasse type, but intimacy of the soul. With her I will snuggle more readily than with anyone else. I don't mind admitting that I feel affection for her. I headbump her. I rub my face on her. I even groom her poor, hairless skin. I also show her my yummy tummy, but I've been quite guarded about doing it. I really love having it tickled, and will lie there for quite some time while she does it, but my paws are always at the ready to grab her if her hand worries me, and I'll often lift my head. True, I've never needed to grab her with anything close to claws, and my head does nuzzle right against her hand, but this latter usually succeeds in pushing her away from my tummy whilst letting me get a good look at what she's doing to make sure I'm in no danger. It's basically my friendly way of telling her I've had enough, that I'm not comfy with any more attention to the yummy tummy, but that I still love her. I tend not to use the claws on her much cuz I know that her eyes are too broke for her to see them coming, so it startles her when I use them.





She got to thinking about Anna the other day. One of her fondest memories is of Anna as a babycat before her personality changed. She used to lie on the human's knee with her tiny paws stretched right out over her head so that the human had full access to her tummy. I've never done it, although I do want to. Sometimes I twitch the front paws up there for a good stretch. It feels so nice with the combination of the stretch and her hands, but I just don't trust her enough to stay like that, or at least, I didn't.





I spoke about removing barriers, the last, most tender ones. Barriers don't just disappear. They drop slowly. Over the last few days, mine have been dropping. It started with the stretch, then I kept the paws up there for slightly longer. I found myself liking her hands running over my taught tummy. Actually, it feels glorious. She didn't pull or tug at me, she didn't do anything nasty. She just stayed nice and quiet and stroked me. I'd had enough pretty quickly and pulled my feet back down to protect myself, but she just carried on stroking, never breaking rhythm. It was soothing, comforting, safe. Tentatively, the paws went back up again. I kept them on her arm rather than having them all the way up, but she didn't push for me to give her more. She just worked with what she had.





This is the characteristic of my human that makes me trust her more each day. She never pushes. Sure, she tells me off if I use my claws and teeth, sure, she makes me let her brush my yummy tummy whether I want it or not, but never does she take me beyond my limits. She's always ready to give reassurance, to stop the activity that i'm struggling with to give me a cuddle and time to calm down again and realise everything's Ok, and it's this that makes the intimate trust grow and flower in me. When I came to her, I hated having her touch my eyes to clean them. I had really bad eyes. They weren't cleaned often enough and they hurt. With gentleness and patience, she taught me that pain doesn't come from her cleaning, and now I actually let her pick the crusties out with her fingers, and I purr all the while cuz I know that my eyes will feel cleaner once they're gone.





I have a thing about my head. I don't like peoples hands coming too near it unless they're slow, and I don't snuggle it down even against the human. Sure, I like it when she scratches the top, but I don't like to lay it on anything except a bed or my paws. The human has been working to show me that it's not frightening or bad if I lie my head on her, but I just couldn't get over the worry. Until this morning.





Today, just as she was getting dressed, I climbed up on the bed beside her and asked for a cuddle. She obliged of course. I started in my usual crouch, but soon flopped to my side where I curled up. Then I flipped to my back and, a little uncertainly, put my paws up a little bit, inviting her to touch the tummy. Surprisingly, when she did it, I still liked it. Her other hand lay beside me on the bed, and I got to thinking. Last night when I was worried, I trusted her. Could I do it today? Deciding to be brave, I rolled over very slowly. My feet were towards her now, and my paws were still up. She had an exposed view of the yummy tummy, and I was relaxed. As she carried on tickling, I very gingerly snuggled a bit closer. This brought my head in line with her hand. I had a problem. I wanted more tummy time, but if I laid my head on the flat bed, I'd have to move. Slowly, very slowly, I lowered it to rest on her hand, but kept my neck real tense so that I could spring it away again if something bad happened. But it didn't. In fact, nothing happened. her hand stayed where it was, and the tummy stroking continued.





I didn't stay like that for very long, but the human says that those few moments were the most precious of her day. I don't know if I'll repeat the exercise, but, like it or not, I'm learning to trust. I can't say that it's all that bad. All it seems to do is bring nice things. I feel closer to the human every day. It's special. It's a communion on a deeper level than either of us have ever experienced before. Putting your head in someone's hand doesn't sound like a big breakthrough, but for us, it's another few stepping stones on the path to true unity.

Preparations

Friends, today and yesterday have been busy, busy, busy! The human has had a lot to do. She's been washing my food bowls, folding the clothes that peoples use to cover their hairless skins with, putting her smelly purfume and her hairbrush out, and then packing the smaller version of the computer with the talking man in it, into the suitcase. This is called a laptop for any of you who are wondering. Of course, I had to snoopervise everything that was going on. No packed suitcase is complete without a liberal coating of Tia hair over its contents, so dutifully, I climbed in there, dug through the neat piles, rolled around and generally had myself a good time! The human didn't share in my enthusiasm for this passtime, but I've discovered that it's a sure fire way of getting picked up very, very quickly! Let me outline the steps for you in case you're wanting to train your people to scoop you up on command.




Step one: Find an open, partially or fully packed suitcase. This, I warn you, can be tricky. I know the human has them in our house, but they remain hidden for most of the time. Sure, I find empty ones, but the full ones only seem to come out from hiding a few times in any given year. A lot of biding your time and waiting for your chance will be necessary to achieve this step.





Step two: Investigate. This should be done in a polite, gentle manner of course. Make sure your people is watching you as you daintily step and sniff all over the contents of the case. Note: If you dive in, claws flailing, tail lashing, play fighting everything in sight, the people will pick you up all right, but will simply toss you out of the room if you're a repeat offender. No, you need to convince them that you are innocently curious. Pretend you've never seen a full suitcase before if you have to, no matter how many times you've been in one. If they think you're only investigating, they'll excuse you more if, or more appropriately when, you decide to get a little more rambunctuous. Shout and yell at your peoples if they aren't in the room with you when you carry out this step. It's imperritive that they watch this bit. Repeat a few times for good measure.





Step three: It doesn't matter whether the people sees you do this or not. In fact, it's probably better that they don't, cuz then you get to have more fun time, and still be picked up at the end for a snuggle. Sneak up to the suitcase. Crouch. Twitch your tail a few times. Crouch a bit lower. Fix your eyes on something that you want in that case. Make up, perfume and underwear are likely to get you the maximum attention in tthe fastest time. Twitch the tail a few more times, then jump. Claws should be out, burrowing instinct should be on full. Dive into the middle of that case and then pretend you're a wiggly cat wormy who needs to get all the way to the bottom. Once you're down there, explode out of the middle of the clothes, preferably holding the treasure in your mouth. Wriggle around on top for a bit to make the pile comfy, then lie back and enter bunnykicking heaven. It's at this point that your people will snatch you out of the case and remove the treasure from your teeth.





Step 4: Immediately go limp and pliant in their arms. Melt against them. Give their chin head bumpies. if you can bring yourself to do it, give them a "Wasn't that fun?" and "Would you like to play too?" miaow. The more kitten-like, the better. Maintain an expression of total innocence and kittenish curiosity. If that doesn't make your people go all gooey and snuggle you close, you obviously need to own a different one. There's no way they'll get cross at you after that.





You can repeat these steps as many times as you like, but be careful to leave an interval of at least half an hour between attacks. They seem to tire quickly of the game if you do it any more frequently than that.





Despite what my human calls my interference, the suitcase is all packed and ready to go. She zipped it all up tight before she left for the work hunt today so that I couldn't have any more fun with it. I'm not pleased about this. I'm a little concerned too. On my play in there, I didn't see one single ping pong ball or a mousey! The human says that's cuz the last two times we've gone to Dogman's house we've left all the toys we brought up there, and that there'll be plenty of things there for me, but I struggle with this concept. Less than a billion ping pong balls is not plenty!





Anyway, I'm off. I need to nap before my big, long journey! Gotta be well rested to greet the admiring public, after all. See you on the other side!

Wordy Wednesday: Review Time!

Finally, I get my own blog back! To write about me, and nothing but me! What's that, human? We're going to do a review? That you need to write most of because your opinion will matter to any peoples thinking about buying the thing we're going to review? This is outrageous! Honestly, this is my blog, nobody else's!




That', friends, was the conversation I had with that blog-hogging human of mine just before I started to write this. Now, given that she has the thumbs, and thumbs are necessary for opening and feeding stinky goodness, I am forced to admit the necessity for compromise with her sometimes. In light of this, I have decided that it is permissible for her to review products alongside me. She can write her thoughts at the beginning, and then I'll finish up with the important stuff. I can live with that.





I've been mentioning for some time now the smart new PTU the human got bought for her Birthday. I used it to go on that long, loooooong train journey to Oxford a few weeks ago, but sadly, friends, I'll be using it again tomorrow. The human has to go up there for yet more paperwork related to her job, the new one that is, so again, I get to travel. I'm half pleased by this, and half annoyed too. On the one paw, I do quite like to go adventuring, but on the other, it's such a drag to be stuck in a PTU for any length of time. I thought I'd better get my unbiased review of it up here before I'm forced to use it tomorrow, cuz you can be sure that once I've been in there, I'll have nothing good at all to say about it! Right, here goes. Human first, and then me.

Review: Outward Hound Backpack Carrier

The Outward Hound Backpack Carrier for Cats and Small Dogs
is exactly what you'd think it is by the name. In short, it is a carrier that straps to a human's back, enabling you to carry your pet and still have both hands free for the important tasks of, say, dragging your two ton suitcase full of cat stuff and perhaps a single change of clothes for you which had to be crammed in the very top due to space restrictions. Can you tell I'm bitter?





At first glance, I didn't like this carrier at all. It's made from canvas which feels rather like the stuff used to make those ghastly cheap sports bags that you used to take to physical education at school. Well, I did. It comes flat-packed, and is held together by zips alone. The two end pannels have a reinforced frame, and it is this that gives the bag its shape. Once the zips are done up, you're presented with a rectangle. The bottom has a solid board type pad in there so that the bag doesn't sag in the middle with the weight of your pet, and there's a thinner version of this against the wearer's back, again I presume to make sure the bag doesn't bow. The front of the bag (if you look at it with the backpack straps facing away from you) is pretty soft, but is held quite nicely by the tension on the zips and by a very thin metal bar which passes through the material from one side to the other (i.e, from end to end of the bag). The top, however, has no reinforcement at all, and does sag quite badly. This wouldn't be an inconvenience to most animals, but Tia hates material touching her head, so I found myself constantly having to pull it up for her. The top does have a mesh window in it so that they can see out, but if they don't want things touching their head, they're unlikely to turn their face upwards, as the material would then sag onto it.





The straps themselves are fairly adjustable, but not to the point where a very large person could wear the pack easily, unless it rode very high up on the shoulders. They have a thin padding in them which I thought would be hell on my shoulders, but surprisingly, it holds up remarkably well and is very comfy when worn. Leading from the upper part of the strap and attaching to that thin metal bar I spoke about earlier is an adjustable section of webbing strap. This is supposed to put tension on the carrier as you stand so that the bottom stays horizontal whether you're standing or sitting. However, I found that, not only did the clips let the tension slip as you walked, but when the straps were pulled tight, it also narrowed the carrier's width, due to all of the pressure being taken through that bar, which naturally travelled forward, i.e, closer to the wearer's back, to equalise the pressure. tia didn't seem to mind this though.





The size of the carrier itself is quite small. I wouldn't put a pet of more than about 12lb or so in here. Any bigger and I suspect they'd be squashed and uncomfortable. Tia weighs about9 lb, probably just slightly under, and even at her size, I was reluctant to keep her in there longer than necessary. They have enough room to lie, sit, and probably just about stand, and they can actually turn around in it, but due to the narrow width, this latter is a bit of an effort.





The carrier has a rigid pad in the bottom. This is totally removable, and fixes to the bottom of the carrier with velcro. It is also washable which is ideal if your cat has an accident. However, if they do, chances are that it'll run over the sides of the pat and into the underneath of the bag, so be prepared to scrub in there too. Although it's very good at stopping the bag from sagging under weight, it isn't very comfy, and its surface doesn't provide good purchase for paws. I padded mine out with a puppy pad which has the added bonus of being able to soak up nasty accidents too. Tia seemed to think this was comfy enough for her, and the pads provide extra grip for a pet's feet.





The bag has two straps which are held together by a handle in the middle. This can be used to carry the bag exactly like a holdall. When you do this, it's surprisingly light and easy to hold onto, and even when carried like this, it doesn't sway half as much as plastic carriers do, so your pet will still be comfortable. The Outward Hound is well ventilated, having a mesh pannel at either end, and a mesh window in the top. The top window can be unzipped so that you can put your hand in and give reassurance, and also so that the cat or dog can ride in the carrier with its head outside, looking at the world. The opening is quite large, so if you're going to use this, you need to ensure that the cat or dog is securely fastened to the clip inside the carrier to prevent a wriggling escape through the open window. This is located at the end of another long piece of webbing strap, and will snap securely to a harness or collar. It poses a problem when not in use, as it does swing about quite a lot inside the carrier, but I fed mine through one of the supporting zips so that it was on the outside. It kept it out of the way and didn't compromise the bag's functionality.





The only entrance provided is a side one. This is an arched opening in one end of the carrier that unzips completely. Its top half is the mesh portion, and the bottom is canvas. If your cat goes star-shaped, you're never going to get them into this carrier. You could try putting them through the top window. The opening is big enough, but I must state that this isn't what it's designed for. Tia had to be pushed into this carrier, but she has to be with any with a side opening, so that's not out of the ordinary.





To summarise:
Cons: small size, possible escape ability through top hatch, sagging top pannel, inadequate tension straps, not fully adjustable, side opening only, hard, uncomfortable bottom pad, no ability to secure privacy for the animal as mesh windows cannot be covered, no ability to give food or water, accidents will run into the interior of the bag.
Pros: Versatility, strength (even with tia clawing it, the canvas didn't even scratch, let alone rip), top pannel means easy viewing of pet, integrated restraint clip, flat-packs for storage, ventilation, comfortable straps, ability to carry in two different ways, very light.





As I say, I didn't like this bag when I first got it, but the more I use it, the more I come to appreciate its good points. It does have its bad ones, but it does a good enough job to be acceptable. I'd love to compare this with the Sherpa backpacks, but they're unavailable in the UK. If you need a backpack carrier, this one will do the job reasonably well.

Outward Hound PTU Review by Tia

Before I begin, I need to tell you that I hate PTUs. They're horrible, nasty, confining, stupid, nasty things. Have I said nasty yet? So whatever good points I make about this, it doesn't mean that I like it or wish to go in it more than is absolutely necessary.





This was unlike any PTU I'd ever been in before, and I wasn't sure about it for many, many days. The human bribed me in there with treats, and I got very practiced about darting in, nicking the treat and then hightailing it back out of there before the scary monster that it was could gobble me up. Over time though, I got more confident. it hadn't gobbled me all the other times before, so I gradually got slower and slower until I'd happily stand in there until the human was finished handing out the yummies. Initially, she zipped me up and took me for only short walks round the house where I let her live, and that, while not fun, was Ok. It's a different way of being carried. You're much higher up for one thing, and for another, you don't bump and sway half as much as before, cuz you're held quite snugly against the human's back. The one thing I didn't like about this was that I couldn't see my human when she was carrying me. I'm big on this. I never like letting her out of my sight, and I do get quite upset when she disappears on me, but I could still hear her voice.





As the human mentioned, I don't like things touching my head. The bit at the top rested there, no matter what way I twisted and turned, and at first, that's zactly what i did. I used my claws to try and dig my way out, but the PTU was too strong for me. I jumped, but the soft thing only bonked me on the head. Even when we got on the train, I still did my impression of a break-dancer as I tried to find an escape route. Even the mesh, the thinnest and most likely part to provide my escape, wasn't giving in to my attack. Eventually I gave up, ahem, I mean I rested for a while before launchinc my next assault.





This PTU is too small for my liking. Instead of stretching in a full-length sprawl for a quick bit of shut-eye, I had to do it in a tight ball. I couldn't jump as high as I wanted to, and even if I'd wanted them, there wouldn't have been much room for ping pong balls, mr mousey and my tuna. I made the humen pack them in the suitcase instead.





The PTU also smelled funny. The human had to leave it out for days to get the new, factory stink out, and the old familiar house stink in. It's still not completely gone though.





The human put the cat pad (I refuse to call it puppy pad) in the bottom, and with this in there, I found it adequate enough for my bones to rest on. It has lots of windows, so when we were walking down the platform, lots of peoples got to admire me. They see me easier cuz I'm high up and can be viewed from three different angles. They enjoyed talking to me and I enjoyed singing my best opera to them which, thanks to the mesh, they could hear very, very clearly. I could also survey my new domain from any angle I chose to. That's gotta be a bonus! There was plenty to watch as we travelled, and I have to admit, it got quite interesting at times! It's good to have this mesh up, cuz peoples can get close without actually touching me. I like it this way.





So that's all I have to say about it. It's as stinky as any PTU, and will be even more stinky soon cuz I'll be forced to go in it again! I hate tomorrow already! I'll like it when I get to Dogman's but right now, I hate it! Please note that I am taking requests for my programme of songs tomorrow. Get 'em in early, folks.

Tortureshell: The One Who Came Before, and a Breeder Who Lies

Friends, this week has been one big chunk of interruptions to our normal schedule, and I'm afraid today is no acception. This tortureshell I'm afraid, is another one of those that leaves the human terribly upset. It involves the story and the fate of one of the ones who came before. I met her only briefly, and if I'm honest with you, I didn't like what I saw. What I saw was all claws and teeth and hissing and spiting and thwapping and growling and chasing, mind you, and the human says she does have a softer side. As I'm probably biased, I'm going to let the human tell the rest of the story.




Anna was my first ever pedigree cat, and the first I'd owned totally on my own. I'd had others around, but they were always family cats. I thought long and hard before I bought a Russian, and researched all the breed thoroughly. She looked as though she would meet what I wanted in a cat. Sweet tempered, quiet, content to be an indoor cat, not destructive, intelligent, people oriented, high tolerance for dogs. I searched for a long time before I found the right kitten, and when I did, it was love at first sight. This kitten went from being one who didn't readily cuddle to one who climbed on my knee and began purring on our first meeting. Needless to say, I kept her.





That next year was to bring many changes, however. Anna's whole personality was beautiful for about a month or so, then seemed to change overnight. She refused to be handled, bit and swiped at me when I tried to pick her up or even move her to sit down, and that's not all. She began to poo outside the tray, but for the longest time, she wasn't consistent with where she did it. Can you imagine trying to find poo when you can't see it and you live in a big house? Nightmare is not the word. Sometimes I'd go days before coming across it, and that was less than hygienic. Still, I loved her, so persisted.





Next came the scratching. My carpets suffered. The bath pannel's protective covering was ripped to pieces. The lino in the bathroom was shredded. She scratched the back of the sofa so much that she pulled the staples out. Every time the door was opened, she'd dart out and do her best to escape outside. Still, I couldn't give up. I thought she needed more stimulation. I thought she might be upset. I thought she might be injured... I thought and thought and thought, and for months on end, attempted to help her overcome her problems. As a final resort, and already appreciating the inevitable at this time, I thought maybe she needed company. That's when I took Tia into my home, but from the first sight of her right up until the day she left, Anna showed nothing but hostility towards her.





Things had reached an all-time low. I was living with a cat who was destroying my house, putting me at risk of all sorts of nasties from poo, terrorising other cats, escaping every time I tried to enter or exit my house, and above all, who wouldn't allow me to touch her for any prolonged period. I might have been able to cope with her if I could have seen her, but I couldn't. Essentially, I was getting nothing out of keeping her only misery, huge bills, and the profound heartache of deeply loving a cat who seemed not to care for me in return. She didn't seem happy here (that's what I put her destructive behaviour, inappropriate toileting etc down to), and obviously had a great yearning for the outside which, living in a flat, I couldn't satisfy. Reluctantly, I realised that I needed to find a home who could better provide for Anna.





But this posed a problem. I didn't want her to go to any old home. Despite the problems, she'd lived with me for a year. I loved her deeply. I knew she wouldn't be an easy cat, and I didn't want her being shipped from home to home because they couldn't cope with her. I knew I needed to choose carefully, and decided to keep her for as long as it took to find the right forever home, despite the damage she was doing to my home and heart. I would have kept her till the end of her life if I had to, and would have loved her despite it all.





Her original breeder had offered, or more honestly, demanded, to take her back. however, this was an older lady who was quite frankly struggling to look after the million or so cats she had both physically and financially, and I didn't want Anna to go back to that. She said that she would actively seek a home for her, but that she wouldn't tell me where my cat ended up. Again, this wasn't acceptable for me. I wanted, no needed, to know who she ended up living with.





A few weeks later, I had two phone calls, one from a family who were interested, but a little worried about her problems, and one from another Russian breeder who just happened to be a friend of the original one. Although I was suspicious of intent, I decided to interview the latter. She bred Russians, so would be more equipped to cope with inappropriate toileting, cat aggression, damage to propperty etc. Anna loved to go outside, and the breeder had a large secure area where she could go and be safe. This woman is so professional that she even has a boarding cattery. She seemed perfect, but with that one little hitch of being friends with the original lady.





To cut a long story short, she came to the house, looked at Anna, and seemed very genuine. After a very, very long chat with her, I decided that Anna would be quite happy with her, but made the breeder promise that she was not taking anna for the express purpose of rehoming her at a later date, as breeder a had said she would. She promised she wouldn't, said she loved Russians so much that a neuter who wasn't contributing to the breeding programme would be considered as a person to be treasured rather than an inconvenience, and assured me that she thought Anna would end up being good company for her other cats. I reaffirmed this quite a few times, but in the end, was satisfied.





I missed Anna dreadfully when she left. The poor breeder got an email begging for a new update about every second for that first week, and at least twice a day for a good few weeks after. I was struggling to let go. Eventually though, over months, my concern grew less. Anna was happy. I could start letting go and healing the hurt left behind in her absence. On a lighter note, I could also start healing my damaged carpets, lino and sofa. This I began to do.





Today, I received an email in my inbox from a mutual friend telling me that Anna had been rehomed at the beginning of January. She lives with a couple now, and her little brother and a puppy. This hit me with the equivalent force of a punch in the stomach by a championship boxer. I was devastated. Now I didn't know where my cat was, what kind of people she was with, or how to get in contact. The cat is only 21 months old, well, almost 22, and she's already had four homes in her short life. It was to avoid this exact thing happening that I agreed to keep her until I found a permanent home. The breeder had promised me she would keep her, and yet, she'd gone back on her word. I don't know why. I don't know a lot, but what I do know, I wish I didn't. I was told casually that the new owners use a radio controlled wire fence and a collar on the cats and dog which makes sure that they stay within the boundary when outside. My research tells me that those collars enforce the boundary conditioning by means of an electric shock as aversion to crossing the line. If any of you know of collars which condition in a different way, please tell me, as the thought of her being shocked, even if only mildly, has me so upset and heart broken that I feel physically sick with the misery of it.,/p>



p>I have sent the breeder an email demanding an explannation of why she went back on her word, and why I had to find out about it through a mutual friend rather than hearing it from her direct. I trusted her. I have no legal standing as far as I'm aware to demand the return of Anna, and as I don't even know who has her, I have no way of tracing her to find out if she's happy or not. This has taught me something though. It has taught me never to take anyone on face value, no matter how genuine and nice seeming they are. Never trust word alone. Ensure that it is written, signed and verified, and then when something like this happens, there is some recourse.





Through my tears this afternoon, anger has boiled, and done so fiercely. I have used it as my drive to create what I see as an absolutely water-tight contract which will now be signed by the purchaser before any kittens go off to their forever homes. If people are genuine, they shouldn't mind doing this, as it states in brief that the kitten is a pet, is not to be bred from, is to be fed propperly and given all vet care as needed. If conditions fail to be met, the breder, i.e, me, can repossess the cat at any time. This means that I can be certain my kittens are going to be looked after. I've also put a condition in there that says that a cat of my breeding can never be rehomed without my prior knowledge and consent, and that in such circumstances, I can also take the cat back if no agreement as to a suitable new home can be made. I'm damned if I'm going to let a repeat of Anna's sorry case happen to me again.





A word to the wise. Always write it down. If you make an agreement of any kind, commit it to paper. For any novice breeders, don't sell a kitten until you have a good contract. I'm happy to provide mine if anyone wants to see it. If anyone wants the name of the Russian Blue breeder in the UK whose word is not to be trusted, I'm also happy to provide that.





Now I can only hope that my Anna is happy wherever she is, that the breeder is decent enough to at least put me in contact with the new owners (not holding my breath on that one), and that a radio controlled wire fence and collar doesn't mean electric shocks. My Anna, for all your trouble, I miss you like crazy. Be well, sweet, crazy, naughty, infuriating, once cuddly little lady. You'll always have a very special place in my heart.