CSI: Chatopia

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!

Coup d'etat - Who kidnapped Pekoe?

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!

Smal shy kat seeks nu home pleez

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

Are you my new Mommy?

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?

Where did I come from?

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?

My Nemesis

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 love Hugging

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!

my secret blog

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!