Lychee here. Lucy isn't blogging this week in protest against some royal wedding in some country called Yoo-Kay. I've never heard of it. She said she was disgusted by the media blitz and was in a bad mood all day thursday. None of us have a clue what she's talking about. On friday she raced around frantically for an hour before taking a fainting spell, collapsing on the cat tree muttering "it should have been me..." under her breath.
One of the volunteers has also been acting very strangely recently. Each day she comes in, she does the usual cleaning up (god I LOVE watching them scoop poops, hilarious!) but then she starts pulling apart the furniture and scattering it across the room.
Us feline members of Chatopia have worked hard to get the chairs to smell just right. It takes time, snoozing mostly, and the occassional rebel male to spray a little (before they get the.. heh-hem.. snip snip. After that they're always more subdued). The volunteers meanwhile keep cleaning up after us and spoiling our combined perfume
Anyway, this crazy volunteer has been taking all the lovely scented fabric off the chairs and covering them with some kind of impermeable membrane (sorry about the geek-speak, I've been watching a lot of science documentaries recently). It doesn't smell anything like as nice as the old kitty-doused covers did - but the colours are nice.
Actually, I think it's kind of fabulous. I love tools. Although I tried repeatedly to get involved, I was mostly ignored.
Meanwhile, Tammy was keeping everyone on their toes with some stealth pooping. She managed to squeeze one out on the linoleum in the studio room without being seen - yet somehow they still knew it was her! Baffling. Serves them right for overfilling her litter tray: she likes it tray with just a hint of litter, no more.
Sadly, Tammy, Kyana, Sterling and a few of the others have now left Chatopia. It was nothing to do with the pooping, they've gone to find homes elsewhere. I wish them all the luck, but as for me, there's so much cuddling and love here at Chatopia, I'm happy to live here till my perfect human comes along and finds me.
What has no legs, no arms, a long thin fluffy body, and follows a ball wherever it goes?
You don't know?
Well I don't know either, I was hoping you could tell me!
This week a generous man came to Chatopia and donated some luxury kitty items. I was most delighted with the cat tree and made quick and efficient use of the lavender scratching post, which you have to admit, really compliments my glorious peach fur and dreamy blue eyes ---->
BUT... he also unwittingly brought with him a strange and hideous creature, setting it loose in the front room of Chatopia!
Several of us investigated the thing as it wiggled and rolled it's way around the floor.
Lychee thought it was a snake, but Tammy pointed out that they aren't fluffy.
Kyana thought it might be a raccoon (she's such a moron).
Tammy postulated that it was possibly new to science, but I suggest that it is, in fact, simply some malformed creature of uncertain origin.
One thing was certain - it had to be put out of it's misery.
It's me again, Tiny Tammy. I've been feeling a little blue this week. But you could probably help me feel better...
Did you hear about the dog they rescued in Japan? I can't say I like dogs much, but the story raised the hairs on my neck for a different reason.
Think of all the cats and dogs, hamsters, birds and other pets who also lost their lives in the disaster. It makes me sad to think about it, but stories like the one about the rescued dog lift my tiny kitten heart back up again. They give me hope.
Did you know there are people - people like the ones who care for us at Chatopia - who have made it their mission to rescue the pets who survive tragedies like this? These companion animals have lost their families, the people who love them. I'm amazed at the unending compassion of volunteers and animal rescue workers who search for and retirieve them from the rubble, give them warmth, food, love, and eventually: new homes.
I heard about a few places where humans can give their support to the workers who are rescuing animals from the Japan tragedy: The Humane Society works tirelessly, as do World Vets. There is uplifting news of rescue and rehoming from the Japan Cat Network
Next time you are going to hand over those funny little metal circles in exchange for a coffee (I've smelt that stuff and it's icky anyways) why not give those coin things to a charity instead, and help our fellow kitties.
I don't even mind if you help the dogs - just help!
I havn't blogged for a while - I've been far, far too busy for such things. However, I understand that my worshippers may not know how to continue through their lives without the attention of their wonderous Queen Lucy, and so I shall blog once more.
In the past two weeks I have carried out Operation: Overt Odyssey Kitty. In order to prevent Kyana La Banana from re-establishing her regime in Chatopia, I've been bombing back and forth through the corridors of my Queendom, showing the other kitties - and volunteers - who is boss.
A second cat tree was erected just outside the Studio. I've been sure to make my presence felt there. I've also been following the volunteers back and forth while they work, reminding them at all times who is the softest and most beautiful cat here (me).
It's a resounding success! Kyana and I have the odd skirmish, but I have banished her to a cottage on the outskirts of my glorious Queendom ---->
Chatopia is mine again, and my people are happy. Right now i'm reclining on the main office chair in front of the computer listening to Mozart's Le Nozze De Figaro K492 Overture (what a masterpiece) on the radio.
I'm tiny Tammy. I saw what happened to the others, I'm keeping this sweater on till I'm sure the cat-shaving lady is gone!
I've been at Chatopia for a few months now, and this place is always changing. Cats come and go, ornaments move around, we even had hamsters last week! They found homes straight away, but I'm staying for a while longer.
The past week has been hectic. Espoir came back - she missed us all so much and she's delighted to be 'home' (even if it did mean getting shaved as well). Then there was the ceiling in room 1. I was taking a sip from our water fountain when I heard a crash and Little John screamed like a kitten. It had rained so much for 2 days straight that part of the ceiling in his room collapsed. No-one was hurt, they just got a shock. When the volunteers came in they moved them to another room and cleared it all up. It smelt funny.
Speaking of which, I've earned the unfortunate nickname 'The Little Smeller' because of a little poop-issue I've been having. I just love sneaking into the bathroom and pooping in the tub - you should see the volunteers faces when they find it! (And wow, does it stink!) Sometimes the poop gets stuck in my fur, this is the reason I got my butt shaved.
I'm so tiny the volunteers can overpower me easily, so I can't stop them from grooming me and giving me baths when I smell.
It's a hard life being so little!
I better go before Lucy wakes up and catches me blogging - bye!
I'm so furious I could spit.
I'm almost too disgusted to blog.
Humans! Eargh! Just when you think you can trust them they do something so terrible, so heinous, so utterly humiliating that you can only dream of dying and being reborn as a massive Sumatran Tiger so that you can smash into their bedroom at night and eat them alive like crunchy mice.
This particular human, I curse her! She came in on Friday, disguising herself as being some kind of cat-worshipper: stroking us and cooing. Then she pinned Frosty, aka 'Hummer', down on a table and shaved him bald.
I laughed at him of course. He said it felt wonderful and followed the volunteers around all weekend thanking them and asking for them to rub his fuzzy butt. I mocked him and told him he looked like a drowned dog.
Would I have mocked him had I known what cruel, evil fate the volunteers had in store for their Queen?
It started with Kyana.
I watched her from my perch, snorting into my paw with laughter. What a fool I was!
No sooner had they stripped her smelly fur off, when they came calling for me - oh, I thought, you have come to worship my wonderous gorgeousness? But no! They placed me on the table and that dreadful woman tortured me for 40 whole minutes!
The inhumanity! This is no way to treat royalty!
When she'd finished I couldn't even smell myself any more, I was cold and humiliated. She released me and I furiously swiped at the volunteers to let them know who was boss again.
I sit now in the silence of Chatopia, empty of those dasterdly humans, and groom my poor, shaven skin.
My lustrous locks are gone! What cat should have to endure such a thing? Not me. I admit I was a little too warm before, but nothing I couldn't handle. There was no need to go this far.
It's also true, I can move a lot easier now, but that's neither here nor there.
I guess smell a bit better too.... and I feel quite comfortable without those matted armpits...
We lost another of our old timers today: Espoir has been one of the more tolerable of fellow Chatopiites, in fact I kind of liked her. She was always shy and kept to herself - I respect that in a cat.
But alas! She found a new home, and I wish her well. If only... well, my time shall come.
Obviously no human worthy of my wonderousness exists at present, so I will content myself with life as Queen of Chatopia.
Speaking of royalty, what is this I keep seeing on the news websites about a 'Royal Wedding'? Who are these William and Kate people? They can't be very important, I've never even heard of them, yet people across Canada are making such a fuss about their engagement.
Pah.
All that media coverage about some foreigners, and yet here in Montreal they have a far more important, true Canadian Royal: Moi, Queen Lucy-Poozy. Unlike them, I am the rightful ruler of a vast swathe of this country - from the door downstairs all the way to the corner of Room 3 - that's as far as the eye can see!
My Queendom has been quiet this week, except for a lot of boxes arriving and being moved around. 'Donations' the volunteers call them, a nuisance is what I call them. A couple of cats came and went, but not much else to report. Anyway, I'm off to do my rounds. I've started walking the perimeter of my territory regularly, saying hello to my subjects, making sure things are where I left them.
You never know when some pesky volunteer will have moved something ...
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, tired and weary,
On the cat tree that rests between rooms three and room four -
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As if someone was gently rapping, rapping their paws upon the floor.
"'Tis a fellow Kitty," I muttered, "rapping gently upon the floor -
Only this and nothing more."
A distincly I recall, twas just last year before the fall:
And each dying leaf fluttered into the earth's maw.
Eagerly I sought the couch - vainly I had planned to slouch
Against the leather arm - I vouch! There's nothing better for the claw!
For the rare and wonderful moment when you've stretched your aching claw
Upon the nearest thing you saw!
And the tough yet smooth improvement on the sofa my owners used to have
Thrilled me - filled me with a paw sensation never felt before!
So that now, instead of using merely carpet I would stretch unto the parapet
Of this glorious leather couch arm! Surely placed for me to adore?
This wonderful recliner I shall scratch, stretching upwards from the floor!
I shall scratch it ever more!
Remembering this, my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore:
For the truth is I was napping on this cat tree, and your rapping
Such a gentle, strange tapping, it aroused me from my snore
but I was scarcely sure I heard you" - there I looked down at the floor;
Tiggy was sitting 'pon my shore.
This ragged tabby-Persian was beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Though his presence, the meaning I could never have forsaw.
Till he started then to speak and said, "our future, it is bleak,
When human owners wish to tweak us, change the purpose of our paws.
They see our very beings, our physical joys as merely flaws,
And they cut off precious claws!"
Tiggy, sitting lonely on the floor below spoke only
of his claws, and in their absence how his heart was broke and sore.
For he held them up to stare - there were no points among the hair
of his pawpads, and there; that's something I could sypathise with more -
This grim and ghastly operation forced upon my friend upon the floor
It shocked me to the core!
Why? I sat engaged in guessing and yet no words could be expressing
My anger at the humans who would gulloutine cat fingers - oh the gore!
And as for me? The sofa I had scratched, but suddenly I was unlatched
And before things could be patched - I was thrown out of the door!
"Could you provide me with some other wonderous scratcher?" I implored?
The human answered: "nevermore!"
"Be that then our word of parting, you big fiend!" I shrieked upstarting -
"Get thee back home to your sofa which you've chosen over me!
I am a living being and you're obviously not seeing:
You could have simply taught me not to claw your dumb settee.
You'd rather chuck me out of your home than listen to my plee!
You don't deserve a kitty!
As for Tiggy, his operation removed the wonderous sensation
We get when, upon a substitute tree we stretch our claw!
For you cannot help agreeing that no feeling human being
would ever dream of seeing someone mutilate our paw.
Of cutting the last joint away and deforming our great paw,
As if it was a flaw!
Today I looked danger in the face - and yet lived to tell the tale!
I heard it roaring from afar - my new enemy, the Beast Without a Face. It rumbled like thunder through the corridors of Chatopia, sending lesser cats scattering to the four winds, devouring everything in it's path.
Finally, the Beast arrived at my door. It roared and shoved it's way into my room, filling the air with it's cries and sending Tessa (the lady-cat who shares this room) into a panic. One of the Voluntarias clung onto the back of it, fighting to subdue it.
But I: Maverick Banderas, bravest of all cats and defender of the Voluntarias, I showed no fear! Let it come! I said, I will show it no mercy! I rose from my bed in a rage, stretching to my full height. The Beast came at me, but I stood my ground and showed no fear or mercy - this will be a fight to the death!
Seeing my courage the Beast Without a Face knew it was no match against me. It went quiet, and surrendered. The beautiful Voluntario stroked me, thanking me for saving her from the terror, and she dragged it out of the room and away.
But there was no need to thank me, pretty lady. I would do it all again for such a beautiful woman.
For I, am Maverick Banderas. Viva Las Voluntarias!
Last Saturday's Open Day here at Chatopia - as well as giving humans from across the city the chance to bask in the glow of my royal beauty - was also an excellent opportunity to make some vital purchases (such as informative books and catnip bumblebees).
I've decided that although, obviously, I am a highly superior feline of impeccable breeding and poise, there is no harm in being smart as well as breathtakingly beautiful. I've been continuing my exercise regime of periodically sprinting through the coridoor (despite what some volunteers might say, I am sprinting, not gallumphing. It's quite a different thing altogether. Some people are so rude...) As well as keeping physically fit, it's important that I don't let my razor sharp mind become dull through lack of stimulation. So as you can see, I am building on my already impressive education. It behooves one to keep abreast of the latest developments in literature, the arts and sciences.
I also have a mind to the future. Words as well as actions are vital in rallying the people to my cause! Soon I shall step up my campaign to oust Kyana La Banana from my Queendom and reclaim it as my own.
Today I watched her playing with her silly fuzzy ball on the stairs: fetching it and bringing it back to the volunteers like a mere canine.
She has great stamina, but I... I have all the brains.
Amigos, I write to you so that you can know my courage. I am Maverick Banderas, the most brave and daring of all the cats in Montreal!
I come from the streets where I fought tooth and claw against the bandidos, carving a place for myself in the cruel dog-eat-cat world.
But I was captured and taken into a shelter. I was blinded with rage: unleashing my fury on them, striking down my enemies at the point of my claw! I wanted only libertad - freedom.
I didn't know that these humans would be my saviours.
Until I came to Chatopia.
I found myself surrounded by beautiful chicas: gorgeous human women with eyes like honey, voices like a kitten-down.
How they purred to me and cooled the fires of my blood. My rage ebbed away like the tide.
They call them The Voluntarias.
I am in love with them all.
I vow to protect them with all my bravery and strength until the end of time!
Today I deigned to spend time among my subjects, in fact I had quite a day. After breakfast I spent much time racing through the corridor at high speeds. It was a lot of fun, and hopefully should burn off the few extra pounds I've gained recently (One tends to be rather sedentary when One is exiled from Ones Queendom.) After this I basked in the sunshine, catching the eye of the humans passing nearby who commented on my sunlit glory. It was during this time that the crime was discovered.
Someone had pooped in the cat tunnel.
Of course we were all shocked. How any self respecting cat could lower itself to this, I will never understand (being of such high breeding it is beyond my experience to behave that way). A volunteer quickly removed the offending item, which meant I couldn't examine it for clues. The only way to identify the culprit was by interrogation.
First I asked around the main reception area. I found that a bit of rough and tumble and the odd thump on the head made my Chatopian subjects far more cooperative. It's true, my tactics may be seen as heavy-handed by some, but we don't have time for bleeding hearts when there is a criminal among us!
Then I tried to gain access to the cats in the other rooms, but as usual those pesky volunteers had other plans - don't they know who their Monarch is?? They are lucky I don't hang them all for treason! I spare them only out of compassion...and because they are so very good at rubbing my cheeks and cuddling me - but for no other reason!
Tonight I shall maintain survaillence of the cat tunnel. Any nighttime poopers who dare to repeat their crime shall meet with swift justice!
Okay, so there was a slight misunderstanding about Pekoe. He wasn't kidnapped exactly, just rehomed - but how's a cat to know? Come to think of it I should be delighted that he's gone: he was, after all, quite grumpy and smelly.
I mustn't let minor interruptions distract me from my true goal, namely: ousting the terrible Kyana La Banana and reclaiming my rightful place on Chatopia's throne.
I'm a benevolent ruler. Although my rule is absolute, it is also fair. Once reinstated I shall do the following.
1. I, Lucy-Poozy, Queen of Chatopia, owner of the peachy belly, shall once again be respected and admired by all lower felines - which means no more being chased away up the cat tree.
2. All Chatopian cats shall be free to roam and grow plump and content in my Kingdom, so long as they do not depreive me of my right to eat anything I want before they do.
3. Let them eat catnip!
4. The chair, eh-hem, I mean Royal Throne in the centre of Chatopias reception shall once again be the seat of my power. From it I shall survey my Kingdom, or rather, Queendom, bestowing honour upon those who I deem worthy, and receiving praise, glory and snuggles of adoration from all humans who find themselves in my presence.
I'm so sorry it took this long to write and let you know how things are going - goodness only knows, it all happened so fast!- but I'd like to reassure you that things are well, in fact: they couldn't be going better!
It all began a week ago after a visit from a wonderful stranger at Chatopia. After just two meetings it seems she was utterly smitten, and before I knew it I'd been whisked away across the big city, finding myself released into a strange new home.
I hid at first, it was all rather overwhelming: the new smells and sights, the rooms, and most of all the silence. It turns out this woman, Angela is her name, doesn't own any other cats. I am her number one. It's exclusive. I LOVE IT!
Oh what a whirlwind romance, we are really quite in love. I've been following her around the apartment. She tried to escape me a few times by going into other rooms, but I shalln't let her out of my sight! At night I watch over her in bed, often cuddling up in her warmth. It's like a dream come true: my very own personal human! Imagine!
As you will have guessed, I won't be back.
Wish you were here... well no, not really, but let's just say kindest regards and I hope you find as much happiness as I have sometime in the future.
Yesterday morning, his name was struck from the list on the wall.
Pekoe - gone, evaporated, kidnapped, disappeared in the night (or possibly late afternoon) and subject to some terrible fate!
At breakfast I took advantage of Kyana feeding like a pig to race to the far end of the hallway and search for him, but I didn't expect to find much. With his name removed, it is clear that the Buffalo will not be coming back. What's more, there was one less bowl of food placed down at breakfast.
It can only be a matter of time before another one of us is gone.
With the situation desperate, this afternoon I infiltrated the volunteers who sit around chattering in the afternoon once all the poop is scooped and the eyes are wiped. The plan: to gather intelligence on Felines Missing in Action. My cover: an innocent kitty in need of cuddles. I would lull them into a false sense of security as they rubbed my peachy belly, and soon they would let all their secrets be known.
All I had to do was stay awake long enough....to...*yawn*.... listen to what... they....
Like all good detectives, I began at the beginning: by investigating his last known whereabouts.
Pekoe, aka 'The Buffalo', is known to frequent any of four office chairs sitting in the main reception of Chatopia. I examined them for prints, but the volunteers had wiped the scene during 'routine' cleaning. They had also vaccuumed and de-furred all the upholstry, removing hairs and skin cells which could have been collected for lab analysis.
I can't help but suspect them of collaboration.
My next step was to check the food bowls, but Kyana was proving to be a problem. She wasn't going to let me continue my investigation unhindered.
Instead I decided to dust the shelves behind the desk for prints - maybe the kidnappers had leant against the polished wood and left some trace? Curiously, I found the shelves had already been dusted, and yet the volunteers claimed to have cleaned the area not 24 hours previously.
Things just don't add up.
On the whiteboard where all residents of Chatopia have their name and breed logged (for security purposes), I noticed Pekoe's name was still listed. Are they conspiring with his kidnappers?
This looking more and more like a cover up.
I must foil that meddling Kyana and examine the rest of Chatopia for evidence - the answer must be here somewhere!
You are probably looking for Pekoe to hear about his latest attempts molesting the volunteers. Maybe you want to know more about his obsession with shoulders and laps and cuddling.
No. No more. That's not me.
My name is Lucy. I am not the one you expected to blog, in fact the idea of it repulsed me for some time. I watched that smelly Buffalo from my perch on top of the cat tree and thought he was wasting his furry time.
But I've had some time to reconsider since his disappearance.
Though I may have loathed him, he was the second longest resident here, and his absence worries me.
Where has he gone? Could the same thing happen to me? Perhaps if I hadn't been asleep I would have seen his kidnappers, but as it stands no-one knows when he was taken, nor by whom.
I shall investigate, and be sure: Pekoe's assailants shall be brought to justice!
Helo. I iz named Beth & I iz steelin this blogz. (Ssssshhh, don't tell Peeko da Buffalo or he is beets me up. No1 nos wher he iz, he iz gone. I takes advantaj. I haz skillz 2 brake owt of room 1 & blogz (I has streetsmartz u no))
My spelin iz not good, as u can c, cos I iz not edookated kat. I livd on the street & am only littl. I iz smal & shy & livs in the room 1 wit 3 uther kats. I iz a Himalayun.
My faves tings iz: big warm handz, dry kibbels & woolz blankitz. I likes 2 wotch humanz wen they cleen up my poop - humanz is weeurd animuls!
I want u all 2 no I iz lookin 4 nu humanz now.
They musst b kind & hav lots of kibbels.
If u iz intrestd, or no sum1 hoo cud giv me a nu home, pleez emale: Beth c/o AAM at aam.mtl@gmail.com
Now I sneeks bak 2 bed b4 Peeko gets bak - gudnite mr intrnets x
Today was strange. First, the volunteers stayed outside for an hour before they came in. They kept pulling at the door and fiddling with the lock, but not opening it. They didn't look very happy either. I kept shouting at them through the glass pane to hurry up and feed me, but they just cooed at me and waved, refusing to enter.
After what seemed like days, a strange man appeared with a metal box. He pushed and poked at the door and eventually opened it. Finally! Breakfast! By that point I could have almost turned cannibal (though, to be honest, none of the cats here look very appetizing. I suppose little Tammy might make a decent barbecue spare rib...)
Accompanying the volunteers was a woman I'd never seen before. Upon investigation it turned out she was exceedingly huggable, and chirped with delight when I clawed my way up onto her warm shoulder. I got at least a weeks worth of cuddling done. She barely looked at the other cats before returning to me for another love-session.
It's true: I am a love machine.
She talked with the other humans about me, asking lots of questions. I could tell by the look in her eyes she'd fallen in love and frankly, who could blame her?
The question is: will she come back?
Last night I watched Cats: 101 on Animal Planet. It has a fascinating segment on each of the main breeds.
I, of course, am a stunningly handsome Persian: one of the oldest and most distinguished of Royal breeds. Persians and Himalayans (a Persian-Siamese cross-breed) make up the majority of residents here at Chatopia.
The programe talks about how cuddly, soft and loving we are, and that we're the most popular breed in the world today. The only problem is that no-one mentions where we come from.
Easily half of the cats here at Chatopia were rescued from breeders who didn't care for them properly. Cramped in tiny cages, never cleaned, not fed properly and inbred. Not all breeders are like this, but how can humans shopping at the pet store know where we came from? They buy a little kitten seperated from his poor Mom before he was even finished weaning. Meanwhile the Mom is forced to have another litter, and another, and another. Her life is short and exhausting.
I never even knew my Mom.
Those kittens soon grow up and the humans who bought them lose interest or don't want inanimate objects in their house scratched. Can you believe some humans think their sofas are more important than us living, loving cats? We're chucked out on the street - defenceless and starving in Quebec's freezing winter.
That's where animal charities like Animal Adoption Montreal, The Humane Society and SPCA find us. They rescue us and we are added to the countless other abandoned souls who need a home.
I overheard one of the volunteers saying that 20-30 abandoned cats are brought to the main shelters every day.
I have enough cuddle-power in me to supply a whole house full of humans with daily doses of love. Why do humans still go to the pet store when there are so many of us here: waiting for them to take us home?
Darn that wretched Lichee. They say we all have a nemesis, I think I've found mine in this apple-headed siamese.
I ask only one thing in life: a lap from which to stretch into a pair of hugging arms (well, two things if you count food... actually, three things: I also greatly appreciate central heating).
Three volunteers arrived at Chatopia and started feeding, cleaning and running around doing whatever it is humans do (far too much if you ask me). I stood on my hind paws and patted one of their legs, silently meaowing for cuddles. They usually love it when I do this, but she was distracted and wouldn't pick me up. I thought this wasn't good enough, so I persisted.
Okay, maybe I did scratch her a little, but goodness me, I had not had a hug in over eight hours and we all have needs!
I watched in disgust as Lichee frolicked on one of the volunteers laps, using her polydactyl paws to swipe up her fingers from the mouse pad and chew on them playfully - and the volunteer just let her do it! When I chew on volunteers they always yelp and deposit me on the floor, denying me further hugging access. Why is Lichee allowed to get away with it?
Admittedly, I don't so much nibble as furiously bite and scratch. I only ever do it when they try to groom me - no one grooms my luxurious Buffalo pelt except me, and if I decide not to groom myself (ever) then these humans should just learn to accept me for who I am, even if I do get a bit smelly.
What's a whiff between friends?
I waited by the door for the first volunteer to arrive today - man do I love that first cuddle of the morning! As she put her key in the lock I looked up at her and gave a silent miaow (this is one of a cats most powerful weapons to use on humans you know, after that the volunteer was all mine.
Many of the cats here are more excited about the first meal of the day, and I won't pretend I don't love my chow. Some, like Espoir, were starved in the past. She told me how she was left in a cupboard for weeks without food - or cuddles - until being rescued and brought here. It's made her very neurotic about eating, but that's understandable. When she arrived she would hide in her cage all day, but there were two things which got her to come out: food, and being stroked.
For me, nothing beats a human hug. Those fingers, how they tickle my chops! My favourite thing on earth is to climb up onto a persons shoulder and snuggle my head right into their neck - wonderful! Espoir is doing much better now, which is unfortunate for me because she steals a lot of my potential hugs. As for breakfast: a bowl of wet food with a nibble of kibble for dessert - delicious!
I can hear the door closing... the lock click shut... yes, they are gone, I am alone now.
Well, when I say alone, I mean it's just us cats.
My name is Pekoe and I live at Chatopia adoption center. On the letterheads I've read that this place is run by Animal Adoption Montreal and as far as I know everyone who works here is a volunteer. I've been here for a year now, which makes me the second longest resident after Lucy (who constantly reminds me that she was here first, the big bossy-boots).
There are about 25 of us waiting for homes. I've heard some of the other cats talking about places they stayed where they were in cages all day long. At Chatopia we have whole rooms to wander through. Sometimes I sleep on a chair. Other times I sleep on a shelf, or even a table - if I please.
Unfortunately I have to share my space with 7 others, which can be very irritating when I'm going to cuddle one of the volunteers and Lichee or Shanika get there first. They move faster than me, but that's just because they aren't as distinguished. I've made it quite clear that I require a great deal of cuddling every day, you'd think the volunteers would have the decency to shove those others aside so that I can climb up, but, ah well there we are, it's a hard life being a shelter cat!
I can't blog for too long just in case someone comes in and catches me. The other day I was going to share with you the outrage of being washed (how dare they!) when there were footsteps on the stairs. Luckily I managed to shut down the computer before they saw me. I jumped to the floor and pretended I'd just woken from a deep sleep - it seemed to work, no-one suspected a thing.
It shouldn't be long before I can blog again - there is so much I want to tell the world, isn't this internet a wonderful thing?
I must be careful and wipe my paw prints off the mouse before I go to sleep - no-one can know about my secret blog!
Us feline members of Chatopia have worked hard to get the chairs to smell just right. It takes time, snoozing mostly, and the occassional rebel male to spray a little (before they get the.. heh-hem.. snip snip. After that they're always more subdued). The volunteers meanwhile keep cleaning up after us and spoiling our combined perfume
