This morning Ian looks his usual calm self. Unlike our girl cat, Clary, who is ever elusive (see Affectionate, bold, alert cat), Ian turns straight to the camera and gazes at me:
This is his usual photo taking stance.
He was not this way yesterday. A handyman type had come into the house in an attempt to install a new dishwasher. In the event, he didn't. Ian's first response was to hide behind a long piece of furniture waist-high on which our TV sits and in whose shelves we have an old-fashioned record player, our 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica (old, crumbling, partly bug-eaten covers a couple, faded thin pages, but cherished, not replaceable). Chess set. Maps. Obsolete stuff.
I wanted to put Clary in the back bedroom to make sure she didn't flee the house when the door was left open to let the machine in. That was no problem. She hastened back there with me. But then she would be all alone. She doesn't like that.
Clary this morning nearby as I took photos of Ian
Clary feels all of us should be in one room together all the time.
Well, yesterday afternoon I could not get Ian to move by coaxing, couldn't reach him, even with a cane, nothing long enough. So I resorted to a spray water bottle. Yes I dislike doing this and do it rarely.
I sprayed and he lept in the air, first rushing round the room crazily, but then heading intensely to the back. Alas he got there before me and the door was still closed.
He went frantic, hysterical as he hurled himself against that door and then between the bookcase in the hall and the door.
Total panick. Poor pititful pussycat.
I opened the door and he scooted behind the bookcase to the utmost point away from public space. He would not move from there until it was clear the man had gone. As he came out he was wet. At first I thought he had lost control of his bladder, but no I had sprayed him a lot. He was breathing hard and still very nervous.
It took a couple of hours to calm down fully. Now this cat has never been abused, he has only the kindest and tenderest of treatment. Sometimes he wrestles hard with Clary and once he hurt her above the eye with a claw as he tried to make her wrestle more with him. He does dislike the Vet and mews all the way there and back. A similar hard job getting him in the carrier as getting him to the back of the house.
He does love affection; he will come to my door and mew and mew and then nuzzle in my neck very tightly when I pick him up. He spends hours on the Admiral's shoulder, nuzzled against Admiral's neck.
Never too overt of course in his quiet watching and waiting and the jump on the lap. Never licking us. We are not cats. He licks Clary a lot; sleeps in with her legs and paws intertwined around him.