Acci's Blog: Fluffball of Darkness, Reprise

Well, Rascal is getting all grown up, and has been studiously learning as much of the Ways of Cats as he can so that he can be as catty as is proper.

Unfortunately for him, it has been Marshmallow whom he has fixated on as his role model. Sweet and loving as Marshmallow is, she's. . .not exactly the most intellectually dominant critter in the entire yard. Abby is more of the Mistress of Cat Lore, but she is far less tolerant of the Black Beastie's proximity. Though she has at least reached the point where she will allow him to exist in the same room as her now. So there are interludes of mutual coexistence and peace in the house.

And then there are the times when Rascal dozes off, often cuddling up with one of his favoured toys, and at which times Abby and Marshmallow can wander about unmolested, or just lay about and relax.

Of course, the napping and resting tends to then result in a hyper-kinetic kitten during his waking moments. He'll leap about, climb about, poke about, and pounce about wherever and whenever he can. One of his favourite pastimes seems to be climbing. He'll try to climb everything in the house and yard at least once each day (including Abby, Marshmallow, and anybody who happens to be around the area). His usual technique is to crouch down and stare intently at the object, with his tail madly lashing. Then he'll give a mighty squeak, dash at it, leap into the air, and try to wrap all his legs around it. He'll then either fall right off of it, or else sit there clinging to it for a moment. If he maintains his grip, he'll then try scrambling further up. The fun part, of course, comes when he decides that it is time for him to come back down again. . .

The Lurking Fear

Protecting us from the vicious hordes of leaves

Playing

And playing

And helping with the housework

And climbing

And climbing

And falling (with style)

Sometimes the other cats will look on with expressions of bafflement, horror, resignation, or some combination thereof.

If it gets to be too much, they might flee the house.

Although sometimes the Black Peril will follow close behind them.

In which case, they may flee to further domains.

They do have at least one measure of safety at the moment: so far, Rascal hasn't built up the nerve to try to leap the creek. So Marshmallow and Abby can do that to get away from him, and then spend their time poking about in the underbrush to amuse themselves in catty ways.

(Five points to you if you can spot the kitty in that last photo in less than five seconds!)

Of course, being outside has its perils for Rascal. One of the main ones is the Evil Gray Tabby Nemesis Cat, a big tom who lives somewhere in the area and comes to the yard at times. He does not get along with Marshmallow or Abby; sometimes they fight him and chase him away, sometimes he fights one of them and chases her away. Rascal, on the other hand, thinks that Nemesis Cat looks like he'd be a great friend and playmate, and tends to run up saying, “Hey there! Let's play!”, soon followed by, “Hey, I don't really like this game where you kick me about and dig your claws into my back and try to bite my face off!”. He doesn't really seem to learn that not every living thing wants to be his friend.

Rascal meeting the Nemesis Cat

So for the sake of him and Abby and Marshmallow, I tend to chase and terrorise and torment the Nemesis Cat every time I see him in or around the yard. He's been a bit more scarce because of that. And the cats have been careful to show their appreciation of my work by presenting me with lovely gifts from time to time.

Recently, though, Rascal was hauled away to the vet's office to get That Surgery taken care of. It turned out to be a bit more of a drastic operation than had been intended. Though he is more-or-less physically mature now, one of the bits that should have “dropped” during puberty hadn't done so. So instead of just working with a small incision, the vet had to make a big incision and dig around in Rascal's abdominal cavity to find it. Which turned out to be quite a quest, as apparently instead of dropping it had decided to go wander off elsewhere. After a couple of hours the vet was about to give up, when he finally found what he was looking for, snipped things that were to be snipped, and then sewed up Rascal again. Rascal was also given one of those RFID chips embedded somewhere between his shoulder blades, so that if he wanders off and is picked up by Animal Control or whomever he can be identified. Considering that he entered my life due to his having wandered away from wherever his original home was, we figured that this was a good idea.

So now we have a kitten with a bald tummy and a bald patch on his leg from where the IV tube was attached.

He got over the trauma and drama with no problem at all (I think that his attention span and memory are too short for him to ever hold a grudge or hang on to emotional trauma), and is as merry as ever. Though a bit sore and restrained in his movements at the moment. He's banished from the Great Outdoors for a while until he has healed a bit more; if anything, this is the one aspect of his ordeal that has most horrified him since he really gets upset if he can't go out. But he's dealing with it.

And just to round this report off, here are a few random kitty images!

Fluffy Marshmallow, in her Winter fur!