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Logan Rising
If your last name is Beeby, I suppose naming your dog "Hobbit" seems like a natural course of action. Unless of course your dog is an oversized breed like a malamute. I have to wonder if the Beebys have ever actually read Tolkien.
I've barely healed my gashes from my weekend with Logan when I had to deal with Jake. Jake was a shepherd mix something or other who came in with vestibular disease. This is a neurologic infection that results in loss of motor control, like in Jake's case his head was unnaturally contorted almost upside down and he could only move by rolling and flopping around like an alligator. Unfortunately for me this entailed a lot of flailing with his legs resulting in more fairly significant scratches for me. The difference was these scratches didn't make me cry the whole way home.
Tery had snagged some surgical scrub for my Logan-related wounds and I used it on my Jake-related wounds. I'm starting to think we should keep a permanent supply on hand. I look like I tame lions for a living, for crying out loud.
~*~
Ahh, Logan. No doubt what you're all wondering about (inasmuch as anyone wonders anything about me). The first 24 hours were a bit harrowing. He behaved like a perfect gentleman (after being dosed not once but twice with tranquilizers before getting him in the car). Kitten was a different matter. She didn't react well (which we expected, but hoped we might be wrong).
Despite knowing better, we did just about the exact opposite of all the common wisdom about integrating cats. We were nervous about Logan's cage issues and didn't want him stuffed in the carrier longer than necessary. We also have a relatively small living space with not a lot of options for segregating animals realistically. For instance, the advice is to shut the new cat into a small room and let the resident cat slowly get used to the idea. The problem with this is our only room with a door is the bedroom where I sleep, and the memory of me hanging him by his neck with a leash is still a little too fresh for him to be copacetic with being trapped in there with me.
So we basically released him into the living room with Frances and hoped for the best (with close supervision. We aren't complete idiots). The best didn't happen. He wanted to explore his new surroundings and Frances wanted to yowl and scream at him. Meanwhile the stupid bird, who has the survival instincts of a Darwin Award recipient, wouldn't stop climbing down to the bottom of the cage to see what all the growling and snarling was about, to try to offer her help.
The saving grace was oddly the ferrets. People worry about ferrets being seen as prey by cats, but the opposite is true. Oblivious to cat (and for that matter dog) etiquette, ferrets just march right up and get in their face. "Hullo. Who are you?" Their boldness is seen as aggression rather than ferret etiquette (remember, pretty much all ferrets get along naturally from the get-go without all this territorial nonsense). Poor Logan right up to this writing doesn't know what to make of them, and they kept him distracted enough to prevent any actual catfight.
I've always considered my Schminky to have above-average intelligence, but she seems to completely forget about him any time she doesn't see him for longer than five minutes, making the harsh reality a recurrent unpleasant surprise every single time he reappears. This is sort of what it was like when we first brought her home to Alsatia, who fortunately was too decrepit already to put up much of a protest. Predictably, attempts to remind Frances how poorly Alsatia treated her initially didn't make much of a difference.
As for Logan, he cowered behind the Christmas tree for the first day (we thought, "Great. We'll have to keep it up forever now.") which at least meant Kitten knew where to look for him. Then he became more forward and branched out (no pun intended), which Kitten didn't much care for. The first night he spent out on the balcony, and Tery fretted that he was just too wild to ever be tamed.
Then the following morning after her shower she said it was like a switch went off in his head and he was the loverboy from the hospital again. Strange. Then he discovered Kitten's favorite spot on the couch, a cushion she claimed the first day the couch was delivered that is now permanently misshapen from her weight. He thought that suited him just fine and moved right in, a development she seems to be taking better than expected.
We can't figure it. Sometimes they'll both sleep quite peaceably at opposite ends of the couch. Other times she goes back to acting like he's only just arrived. I'm not terribly encouraged by one site I found that said some cats wait weeks to initiate a fight, sizing up their opponent quietly from a distance.
For now we're cautiously optimistic. At least the aggression is mostly one-sided; Logan just watches her with a bemused look, like he doesn't know what all the fuss is about. Pretty confident for being half her size. They might never be BFFs, but then neither were Kitten and Alsatia but we managed to get along. He's still not crazy about me, so I just admire him from afar and get all my lovin' from my Minky. I figure he might come around once he isn't under constant attack from her.
Frances, Day Two
Logan, Day Two
We must be doing something right.
Coming soon: The night I spent in the ER
I've barely healed my gashes from my weekend with Logan when I had to deal with Jake. Jake was a shepherd mix something or other who came in with vestibular disease. This is a neurologic infection that results in loss of motor control, like in Jake's case his head was unnaturally contorted almost upside down and he could only move by rolling and flopping around like an alligator. Unfortunately for me this entailed a lot of flailing with his legs resulting in more fairly significant scratches for me. The difference was these scratches didn't make me cry the whole way home.
Tery had snagged some surgical scrub for my Logan-related wounds and I used it on my Jake-related wounds. I'm starting to think we should keep a permanent supply on hand. I look like I tame lions for a living, for crying out loud.
~*~
Ahh, Logan. No doubt what you're all wondering about (inasmuch as anyone wonders anything about me). The first 24 hours were a bit harrowing. He behaved like a perfect gentleman (after being dosed not once but twice with tranquilizers before getting him in the car). Kitten was a different matter. She didn't react well (which we expected, but hoped we might be wrong).
Despite knowing better, we did just about the exact opposite of all the common wisdom about integrating cats. We were nervous about Logan's cage issues and didn't want him stuffed in the carrier longer than necessary. We also have a relatively small living space with not a lot of options for segregating animals realistically. For instance, the advice is to shut the new cat into a small room and let the resident cat slowly get used to the idea. The problem with this is our only room with a door is the bedroom where I sleep, and the memory of me hanging him by his neck with a leash is still a little too fresh for him to be copacetic with being trapped in there with me.
So we basically released him into the living room with Frances and hoped for the best (with close supervision. We aren't complete idiots). The best didn't happen. He wanted to explore his new surroundings and Frances wanted to yowl and scream at him. Meanwhile the stupid bird, who has the survival instincts of a Darwin Award recipient, wouldn't stop climbing down to the bottom of the cage to see what all the growling and snarling was about, to try to offer her help.
The saving grace was oddly the ferrets. People worry about ferrets being seen as prey by cats, but the opposite is true. Oblivious to cat (and for that matter dog) etiquette, ferrets just march right up and get in their face. "Hullo. Who are you?" Their boldness is seen as aggression rather than ferret etiquette (remember, pretty much all ferrets get along naturally from the get-go without all this territorial nonsense). Poor Logan right up to this writing doesn't know what to make of them, and they kept him distracted enough to prevent any actual catfight.
I've always considered my Schminky to have above-average intelligence, but she seems to completely forget about him any time she doesn't see him for longer than five minutes, making the harsh reality a recurrent unpleasant surprise every single time he reappears. This is sort of what it was like when we first brought her home to Alsatia, who fortunately was too decrepit already to put up much of a protest. Predictably, attempts to remind Frances how poorly Alsatia treated her initially didn't make much of a difference.
As for Logan, he cowered behind the Christmas tree for the first day (we thought, "Great. We'll have to keep it up forever now.") which at least meant Kitten knew where to look for him. Then he became more forward and branched out (no pun intended), which Kitten didn't much care for. The first night he spent out on the balcony, and Tery fretted that he was just too wild to ever be tamed.
Then the following morning after her shower she said it was like a switch went off in his head and he was the loverboy from the hospital again. Strange. Then he discovered Kitten's favorite spot on the couch, a cushion she claimed the first day the couch was delivered that is now permanently misshapen from her weight. He thought that suited him just fine and moved right in, a development she seems to be taking better than expected.
We can't figure it. Sometimes they'll both sleep quite peaceably at opposite ends of the couch. Other times she goes back to acting like he's only just arrived. I'm not terribly encouraged by one site I found that said some cats wait weeks to initiate a fight, sizing up their opponent quietly from a distance.
For now we're cautiously optimistic. At least the aggression is mostly one-sided; Logan just watches her with a bemused look, like he doesn't know what all the fuss is about. Pretty confident for being half her size. They might never be BFFs, but then neither were Kitten and Alsatia but we managed to get along. He's still not crazy about me, so I just admire him from afar and get all my lovin' from my Minky. I figure he might come around once he isn't under constant attack from her.
Frances, Day Two
Logan, Day Two
We must be doing something right.
Coming soon: The night I spent in the ER
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You: "Oh, I tame lions."
Someone: "Really?"
You: "Yup."
Someone: "That's so cool!!!"
It might work if you say it off-handedly enough :)
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