My own personal New York Public Library lions this morning – well, a lion and a panther. I was walking around after feeding everybody, just looking at the landscaping, and I encountered a rock. I picked it up and went to toss it underneath the back deck, which has become the repository for yard rocks. Cotton and Bagheera were imitating cat decorations on the rails.
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That pic of them all staring at the heat vent is great! Lol
P.
This was taken this morning when I first unlocked the door. A similar scene occurs every morning, with numbers fluctuating a bit. This is exactly why I requested to the builders that the front steps be several feet from the door on the new house. Gives me a nice space to have the morning greeting dance before I’m also descending (while holding cat food). From bottom right, going clockwise. Atticus (inside), Satin (tabby), Sarge (partially visible at high left), Melody (approaching the stairs), Cotton on the post (Cotton always sits above the general greeting dance; he likes heights), Bagheera (black), Cory (pinto), Rascal partially visible just outside right of door.
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Bibliocats. 
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And a memory from Facebook that cracked me up. From seven years ago, this is my Christmas cactus – with a tail.
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ok who’s tail was that? I just love your pics.
I’ve been trying to figure out whose tail that was, given the timeline. Seven years was a while ago. Definitely a tabby tail. I think it was probably either Cory or Melisma. Cory, the tabby and white with amputated ear, used to be an indoor cat up until HRH Rosalind, my blue point, died. Rosalind was an absolute monarch. Oh, she was a character. She didn’t take anything from anybody. After she died, Cory apparently went into the “now’s my chance to become Top Cat” syndrome and started picking on everybody. She was really being obnoxious, and nobody inside at that point would take a stand and take some of the wind out of her sails, so I put her outside to meet Emily Dickinson. Emily was sort of the outside, non-Siamese version of Rosalind. Not as sharp around the edges, but Emily also wouldn’t take anything from anybody. She wouldn’t start fights, but she would knock you upside the head if you picked one with her. She beat up Cory promptly, and it did Cory a world of good. Cory knew how to be not Top Cat. She just needed to be reminded there were still higher authorities. She turned out to love being outside, though, and when I tried to move her back in for recuperation when she had her ear surgery, she protested vehemently and insisted on being out. But it could be Cory’s tail from her indoor days.
Other option is Melisma. Mel was a tabby I had for a few years about then. Turned up one night, was a nice middle of the pack cat, played well with others. She slipped out one day a few years down the road, and unfortunately not seen again.
I’ll get a picture of Cory’s tail for comparison when I go out to feed.
Meanwhile, here is a picture of Rosalind. This cat had NO problems with self esteem. She is the one who would have been perfectly happy if all people except me and all cats except herself had vanished from the face of the earth.
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I think it’s Cory’s tail.
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Can you clarify who is in the indoor pride and who is outdoors? Do the indoor cats go outside during the day? I’ve tried to figure it out, but admit I am lost.
Beautiful cats. I love your writing… I watch for updates on this thread.
I’m so amazed that all yours get along well enough to live in peace. I only have 2- totally unrelated and different types, but
they seem to hate each other. Won’t socialize or even get close to the other one. I wish they were friends as the little
one is afraid of thunder storms and snuggles my big shepherd when she’s scared. The old long haired fluff ball was
a rescue late in her life and was never really socialized to pets or people.
Each cat has it’s own distinctive personality.
Yes, I also love your updates.
The two prides don’t mix. I’m not quite crazy enough of a cat lady to get all of these indoors, and many of them wouldn’t want to live in anyway. The farm is very remote, quiet road, and they have outdoor shelter and are vehicle wise (except for Atticus, which is why he’s in). I appreciate their rodent control around the place. I’ve had multiple barn cats make it well into their teens here. Just lost Emily Dickinson last year, and she was trapped as an adult in 2003.
Indoors:
Pilgrim - tuxedo. The scientist. He must know How. Everything. Works. Even more than most cats. Quite a character.
Pharaoh - the runt of the dumped litter at Cat Lady’s her last summer. Had a rough medical start with several vet trips and is still the highest maintenance cat on the place with allergy issues. Pharaoh was named for American Pharoah, since that litter was found on the day AP won the Triple Crown. Solid black and the only cat who wears a collar (note allergy issues).
Mystery - solid black, long haired. Mystery turned up in the feeding line one morning so immediately “there,” no warming-up period, that I actually fed automatically before doing a double take. “Wait a minute; who was that?” Obviously a former housecat, along with perfect indoor manners and very friendly. Dumped, I figure; I did ask around and advertise. Mystery is indoors because the coat is walking Velcro. While the cat would enjoy being de-sticked and de-burred five times a day, I have other things to do with my life besides comb the cat.
Atticus - Siamese mix, found on road. I’ve had full Siamese, and this isn’t it, though he looks Siamese. Soft, silky, friendly, but has zero sense of self preservation.
Solo - the only cat on the place that I went out and deliberately got from somebody. All others are inherited, dumped, found, etc. She came from a TNR, and I looked up their list online of recently trapped/acquired. Totally innocently; I was asked to while on an aide shift by my client. She grabbed me particularly from the picture, and it took me a few weeks to figure out why. I know why now. She reminds me of Mom. Sassy, determined, sweet but on her own terms. Dilute tortoiseshell. She has the clipped ear as an Official Formerly Wild Thing.
Outdoors:
Rascal - tortie. My favorite of Cat Lady’s cats. Very individualistic. When I started seeing Cat Lady six days a week as her aide, all of her cats loved me – except for Rascal. Rascal was aloof, never ran but was untouchable. Thus for many months. One day just shortly before Cat Lady got so sick, I was there beside her chair doing something, and Rascal abruptly jumped up on the little table and presented ears for scratching. 0-60 in one jump. I commented that most cats warmed up to people and didn’t totally ignore for months, then get fully affectionate instantly. Cat Lady replied, “Rascal is an all or nothing gal.” Indeed. I’m so glad that she decided to like me before Cat Lady died, because I never would have captured her otherwise.
Bagheera - solid black, the perfect mini panther. He has a wicked sense of humor. He likes to stalk and ambush me around the place. Never sticks a claw in; it’s pure play, but he sure can startle me at times. It’s the same crouch, wiggle, and then jump around the corner at another cat move that you see sometimes.
Cotton - yellow, very plush, though not long haired. Cat Lady named Cotton because he was “always soft, stretchy, and comfortable.” Cotton loves heights, and he will climb trees on command.
Satin - tabby, very sleek. Friendly to all, but Rascal, who is aloof, slaps him sometimes for getting too close.
Cory - tabby and white. She developed a horrible-looking growth on her ear a few years ago. When it didn’t clear up with meds, the vet clinic recommended just amputating. We never did pathology since the ear was clearly totaled anyway, just would have added a lab bill to surgery. She’s healed up quite nicely but still looks and feels a bit lopsided when you scratch her ears. Very talkative.
Melody - orange tabby. More timid and reserved, but an excellent hunter.
Sarge - big tabby. He’s a drifter, and I see him maybe once or twice a week. He thinks of me as the Feline Motel 6 who leaves the light on for him.
“Fringe cats” - These eat here but are much more off around the edges than the above.
PPK - tuxedo. Very independent, excellent hunter.
Tina - brain damaged, I think. She has a face that just looks slightly off, like a Down’s syndrome person. Her elevator has never quite gone to the top floor.
Wayfarer - the latest applicant. Gray tuxedo, VERY spooky. We gain ground slowly. That’s all right; I have patience with animals. Sarge took me a year and a half to touch.
Here’s Cotton performing his signature stunt a few minutes ago when I went out to get the mail. I’ve never had such a tree cat.
https://www.facebook.com/deborah.hall.12/videos/10211633580474444/?t=0
what a beautiful boy!
Closest yet on Wayfarer, my new applicant. I was about four feet, and for the first time, I was close enough to see there is something wrong with this cat’s left eye. It is over to the outside and doesn’t focus with the right. Doesn’t look infected, but definitely not right. This is just one picture, but I watched for a few minutes. It doesn’t track. I think most vision is coming from the right.
Perhaps this contributes some to the absolute skittishness of this cat, extremely reactive to any motion. It’s obviously a long-term problem and not acute injury, since the cat has been hanging around here since late April and has acted thus. I am definitely making progress. I will try to be more cognizant of approaching from the front or the right side and not the left.
On the plus side, I still have seen no evidence of kittens, again over several months. I’m thinking either a male or a spayed female. Don’t you wish they could talk? This cat has a story.
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That pic, for those of us with ‘old eyes’ looks like the riddle- Find the 2 or 3 cats in this photo. I had to study it for a minute.
regarding the eye, I have one w/ a mild version of this- came up seemingly suddenly- and upon reading it seems
cat fights are the usual reason for this. Old injuries but sometimes they improve over time. Mine has improved w/ time.
Yeah, it’s kind of jumbled. This is in an old shed, and I unwillingly had a raccoon around for a while (just hit by a car the other day) that tended to root. Don’t know why, since all food was being cleaned up daily, but hope springs eternal, I guess. Everything was always being knocked around in there.
It’s Wayfarer’s favorite spot. This cat likes cover and wants things scattered around to quickly bolt among. There are feeding stations in the open, but they are not nearly as popular with this one.
There is a vent right under the bed. I have one of those redirectors on it so the air won’t go straight up against the mattress. The thing is magnetic, but last night in the middle of the night, my roommates managed to get it off for the first time in a year here.
Nothing like starting the morning out climbing under the bed. This, of course, was an even more fun game than playing with it themselves had been.
On the other hand, when you start out the week under the bed getting your fingers swatted, things pretty well have to go up from that point on.
Happy Monday.
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Two pictures for today, one beautiful and one funny. First, Cotton this morning at sunrise when I was out feeding the zoo. The light at this moment was glorious. The picture, as good as it is, simply doesn’t do it justice. The golden cat was totally outlined with a halo. (By the way, he doesn’t have stringhalt. The morning dew was just a bit heavy for his liking.)
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Second was a Facebook memory from a year ago, the morning I woke up with a fish in bed. I wasn’t sure whether the cats would find the big stuffed fish appealing or not, as it is rather large for a toy. It’s the size of a cat itself. But they love it. They transport it around by biting a portion and dragging the rest underneath their bellies between their legs, something I have seen wild cats do in nature videos when moving a meal from point A to point B. Amazing how much our housecats resemble their larger relatives in habits, not just in appearance. This fish travels all over the house routinely, but only once did I ever wake up with it in bed with me.
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A few cat pics for the evening.
Mystery in music corner. Note The Tail. It’s halfway behind the music tower, but it measures a good three inches in diameter.
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Solo with her remarkable coloring.
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Atticus (and two toys) on the rug I just finished. See Crafty Folks: Project Rug thread in Off-Topic. Pilgrim on the coffee table.
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Bagheera, my magnificent farm panther.
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What are you feeding them now? Their coats look so thick and healthy. Love you updates~
The indoors are on Taste of the Wild. They prefer green bag over yellow bag but will eat either. Pharaoh in particular is a maintenance issue and is miserable on anything with grain.
The outdoors get Special Kitty, I’ll admit, but they don’t get as much as they would require, and they amply supplement it with Fast Food.
They are all nicely sleek. Just had Pilgrim into the vet about a month ago for a minor issue, and the vet commented that he is perfect in weight. She usually sees either over or under. He’s 15 pounds, but he has a large frame. There’s not fat on it.
Queen Rascal surveying her domain.
I’m so glad for the timing with this cat. When I started taking care of Cat Lady six days a week, all of her cats took to me right off – except Rascal. This one was absolutely untouchable. Not in a flighty, scared way, but in a “we are not amused” regal refusal. She would let me get within two feet, then simply leave. This amused me, and I admired her spunk and respected her boundaries.
Thus for months. No difference at all. Then one day, out of nowhere, Rascal walked up to me and presented her ears for scratching. I obliged but commented to Cat Lady that most reserved cats don’t go straight from 0-60. There is a warming up period, mile markers along the way. She replied, “Rascal is an all-or-nothing gal.”
Just a few weeks later, Cat Lady got sick and went to the hospital, and a little after that, she died. I have always been thankful that Rascal accepted me before, just barely, she lost Cat Lady. If we had still been in phase one, I never would have managed to catch this cat to move her to my place.
She loves it here and is quite affectionate – with me. With strangers, she still is not amused.
By the way, the landscape timber box next to Rascal’s head, which is actually about 30 feet behind her, is the strawberry bed. The rose in front of the porch is the one adopted last fall that I had mentioned in a COTH thread. I was concerned that it might not survive transplant, but it is gloriously happy here this summer.
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