Pray for Us and for all Helpless Creatures

To use the old Cockney phrase so prevalent on shows like 'Eastenders', I've 'lost my bottle'.  When did my courage evaporate?  I think it has been a gradual leakage, almost imperceptible at first, only obvious when I reached for it and found a void in its place.

I suppose courage is easier when one has nothing to lose.  Or perhaps it becomes more difficult as one loses more and more...  Four of my Puttikins are undergoing procedures today.  I took them to a low-cost clinic because otherwise I would not be able to give them all the help they desperately needed.

Why did I wait this long?  Well, I do not have the funds, never have the funds, but that is not the full tale here.  It is partly because I was overwhelmed with fear that they would not survive, the fear of losing another loved one.

There are those, possibly in the majority, who believe that animals and human beings never can be equal in terms of the love one has for them or their intrinsic 'value'.  Obviously I disagree vehemently with that.  My Cats are as much my family as any human component.  My daughter is the centre of  everything but she is almost 21.  She no longer needs me the way that the Puttikins ALWAYS will need me.  Furthermore, she is out of my reach physically, which does limit our relationship significantly.

I have lost a large number of human friends in the past decade.  Part of the price one pays for having close friends from another generation I suppose.  Some were of the same generation as my mother.  Even so, death of a loved one always is a shock and very painful, even when the person is 'in the zone' as my Mum is fond of putting it nowadays.

As more of my close friends died, I became increasingly fearful of loss.  I had nightmares about my Puttikins dying.  What should be straightforward and one hopes, without risk, becomes filled with danger in my mind.  I did not take them to the vet sooner because, quite honestly, I was terrified that they would not survive the experience.  Foolish perhaps, but if any one reads this post, please spare a moment to say a little prayer for Apollodoro, Temujin, Pumpkin and Jasper.  Despite the fact that I have more Cats than I really ever watned, they ARE my family and I could not bear to lose even one of them.

Clandestine Cooking, aka Operation Puttikins Chicken Soup with Rice

After dealing with endless digestive problems with respect to my purebred babies, and finding the smell of the tinned food atrocious enough to make me think it MIGHT be the cause, I decided to make my own Putti Food in the form of Chicken with Rice.  I had read that Cats, like human beings, find Rice to be binding to some extent.  It therefore made sense to mix Rice with fresh-boiled Chicken to make food for them.

It began as a special diet for Cupid but then I discovered he had not been the only one to suffer ill effects from the Friskies tinned food diet.  I thereefore expanded the culinary experiment to cook great vats of chicken thighs boiled in water to produce a good stock in which I mixed rice.

If any one knows of any reason why cats should not be fed this diet, please do let me know.  I have read, however, that both chicken and rice are good for cats who have digestive problems of this nature.

The real problem here is the 'lord of the manor', aka the owner of this house.  He always will find a reason to complain but I was genuinely surprised when he shouted that he 'hated' the smell of the boiling pot filled with chicken.  After all, I had cooked much the same for Freya when she was young and he never complained about the odour then.  It is not disgusting bits and pieces or innards.  It is nothing more than whole thighs boiled in water with a carrot or two and a bit of salt.  The only difference between that and the fresh chicken stock I made for Freya is that I usually chopped an onion and some celery and tossed that into the water as well.  I did not think that would be particularly appealing to the Putti so I simply added a little carrot.

At first, all the Putti apart from Cupid (who will eat ANYTHING, it appears), were a little wary of the rice.  They ate the chicken enthusiastically but were inclined to leave the rice on the plate for awhile, until it became clear that no substitute was forthcoming.  I actually do mix their chicken and rice with a couple of tins of the Friskies Indoor type of tinned food.  It smells and looks far more healthy than the regular Friskies...  The combination I create is about half and half.  Three tins of Friskies to two heaping plates of chicken with rice.

Since the Man protested, however, I have to do it all in a clandestine fashion when he is at work.  I have to begin the moment he walks out the door as the chicken should be boiled for a few hours to make certain that all the goodness in the bones is transferred to the water.  In other words, I reduce the stock and cook the meat until it literally falls from the bones.  I then add the rice.  After it cools, I pack it all away in little containers in the fridge for use throughout the week.

I do worry that they may not be eating enough protein but when I have researched the contents of tinned cat food, it is evident that those mixtures do not contain THAT much meat, but are a horrid combination of 'by-products', grains of vairous sorts and, most appallingly, ash.  It is the ash content that is creating health issues in our cats.  Ashes are not food.  Horribly, they are added as filler.  Who knows how this is done and what sort of meat actually goes into the food.  Diseased animals sent to the knackers, other dead creatures not deemed suitable for human consumption.  When cats and dogs die of kidney failure, it may be their diet that is to blame.  I remember about a decade ago when cat food that should have been respectable and decent caused a fair number of deaths.  We pay quite a lot for the privilege of having our animals poisoned!  I think I will carry on with my clandestine cooking experiment unless something better presents itself.

Update on the Puttikins

A house built upon an 'open plan' is the worst when the owner does not wish to be reminded of the fact that some of his tenants are cats.  Any whiff of a smell of the litter boxes and he goes into a fury.  The 'Silly Room' where the Puttikins live is quite spacious but it is in the basement.  Nonetheless, if some one has digestive problems, the smell will rise almost instantly to the bedrooms on the upper floor.  It is an impossible situation.

Cupid in particular is having ongoing problems with his food.  I did a bit of research and decided to change his diet to rice with chicken.  I boiled the chicken and mixed it into rice.  For the other Puttikins, I mixed rice into tinned cat food. 

It has made a bit of a difference but Cupid continues to deliver very soft stools.  At least it is not running through him instantly.  I suspect it has something to do with the kidney disease he has.  Unfortunately, when it occurs, I am treated as though it somehow is MY fault.  Very nerveracking...  I wonder if he needs some sort of medication at this point.  He is alert and active but quite obese.  It may be better if I feed him once daily for awhile but I need desperately to find a solution to the problem.

Temujin, wishing he were a plush animal

Temujin recently has been bullied by Pumpkin and Cupid.  I am not certain what is going on, but it makes me very upset with his brothers.  Temi never causes trouble for any one.  He is gentle and friendly towards his entire family.  I never saw him lash out or even respond to the attacks.  He simply runs away and hides.

I was afraid to bring him upstairs simply because he has had such a dificult time adjusting to the move.  When I tried to move him from the little back room to the back porch at the old house, he literally climbed the walls and hid for days afterwards.  Here, his actions reflected the same terror.  I therefore waited...

Two days ago, I brought him to my bedroom, thinking that the adjustment could not be worse than the hostility of his littermates.  He cried piteously by the door for a brief time, but then leapt onto the bed to sit quietly among my animals.  We had a lovely afternoon together.

Dear Little Kiffle, Rest in Peace

Kiffle was not, strictly speaking, one of the Puttikins, as he was not a cat.  Nonetheless, he was a beloved member of our family for many years.  When he died a few days ago, we cried and grieved for the sweet little Chinchilla.

Chinchillas make fantastic pets for children and adults alike.  You have to make certain that there is nothing in the way of paper, cardboard or fabric within reach of their cages, as they will chew on almost anything.  Apart from that, though, they are clean and intelligent as well as quite affectionate.

When Kiffle died, the last thing I wanted was a replacement.  I have enough trouble with the Puttikins, although I treasure each and every one of them.  Freya's best friend Kait had been babysitting Kiffle while I was away at sea, and he died at her home.   She and her mother, quite amazingly, had a family member who raised chinchillas and she offered us two babies...

Well, what can one say or do?  Freya really wanted another 'pastry pet'.  She named one Strudel even before we saw them.  She told me I could name the other one, and I decided I wanted to name it Kiffle, even after she said, 'We're not having a Kiffle II like Snowball II!'  (Any one who watches the Simpsons would know what that means.)

One cannot replace one pet with another.  Each little creature is unique.  I always felt sad that Kiffle was alone in his enormous cage, and if one is to have another Chinchilla, it is better to have a pair than one.  They do love company.

We do not know yet what the genders of these two are.  They only arrived at our house yesterday, causing a terrible upset in the Puttikins population.  Quite amazing really.  I had worried about the safety of the Chinchillas, surrounded by so many cats, but in fact, it was the Puttikins who responded with terror and hid!

In fact, Ashleigh had what I could only describe as an almost psychotic episode.  Half of the Puttikins never became acclimatised to the big porch with the windows and when they continued to hide behind boxes in dark corners, I decided enough was enough and returned them to their original 'womb room' which is a disused bathroom without any windows.  They were thrilled actually.  Evidently, there is comfort in that room for them.

Cupid, Apollodoro and Beauty continue to inhabit the porch and now, the Chinchilla cage is there as well.  Cupid went into hiding for half a day from the tiny creatures!  I am not certain why I thought it would be better to move Apollodoro temporarily into the womb room with the rest of his family except that, at the time, I felt that the Chinchillas would benefit from as few Puttikins as possible in their environment.

I am not certain what happened really.  There never has been any problem with Apollodoro and Ashleigh who is his father....  When I went into the womb room a couple of hours later, I found a total disaster.  The litter boxes had been tipped and there was enough hair on the floor and walls to create a new Puttikins.  Ash was in a corner baring his teeth, growling and hissing at EVERY ONE.  He never has growled before in his life.

I removed Apollodoro at once and cleaned the mess but even after that, Ash continued to growl at the remaining Putti who resembled Apollodoro.  In other words, the two other flamepoints, one of whom was his closest and dearest companion, little Leo.

Meanwhile, the Chinchillas did not appear to be paralysed with fear in thsir new room and Beauty and Apollodoro (when the latter was returned) did not appear to share any of the fear that Cupid demonstrated.  In fact, I felt Beauty was almost too curious about the Chinchillas.

It is difficult to tell the two babies apart, although one has a slightly longer nose and a more timid disposition.  The little blue house belonged to Kiffle who demolished it rather quickly even though it was made of hard plastic.  I then bought him a wooden one which he demolished with the same alacrity and perhaps more genuine pleasure as Chinchillas love wood.  The only materials they cannot chew to bits are metal and porcelain.  You can see the pink porcelain bath in the background.  I will find some new nesting houses for these babies soon... I did not even know they would be part of our family until Saturday, so was ill-prepared.

I believe that the baby in the blue house is Kiffle and the one who is out in the open is Strudel.  That would make sense as well as Strudel is kind of fearless.

I spent quite a lot of time with Ash last night, but he continued to hiss and growl at his family.  This morning, however, every one was loving and affectionate towards one another again.  It is the most bizarre and unpleasant event ever.  The most interesting aspect of it in a way was the fact that ALL the Flamepoints were treated by Ash as the enemy until he calmed down.

I had removed Leo as well last night, when Ash continued to hiss and growl at him, but Leo was desperate to return to his father and kept escaping out of the porch this morning  to race towards the womb room.  I finally surrendered to the inevitable and allowed him to be with his father.  I hope to God there are no further problems.

I believe now that somehow the Putti in the womb room were aware of a change in the dynamics of the pet population, even though they did not see the Chinchillas.  How else to explain all of this?  I have moved Putti back and forth from the porch to the womb room without incident in the past.

One of Kiffle's favourite treats was made of wood.  The treat consisted of a painted wooden stick.  It was sold as a package of many different coloured sticks made of very soft wood.  I do not know if the colours made any difference whatsoever to the Chinchilla.  The colours probably were more appealing to the humans than to the animal.  I daresay a Chinchilla would be as pleased with a natural, uncoloured piece of wood!  In any case, I still had an unopened package of Sticks and I decided to give a couple to Strudel and the new Kiffle.

Strudel went at it like a veteran, demonstrating no fear, nibbling at my finger from time to time as well.  His brother or sister, however, was less inclined to participate.  I left a stick in the little blue house where he was hiding, hoping he would go for it after I left.

Freya is very fond of Strudel and likes his manic energy.  I tend to be more drawn to the quiet little one, although I hate to think of him or her afraid.  I will be happier when both respond to me equally.  Meanwhile, though, it is highly amusing to see little Strudel exploring every inch of the cage, nibbling on the bars, on the wood, on the water bottle spout and everything else in sight.


This post was supposed to be about Kiffle and not the new Chinchillas.  It is difficult not to cry when I think of little Kiffle.  He was such a good boy, apart from the depredations he made on some of the furnishings.  He was very clever.  He would jiggle his cage until boxes moved close enough to allow him to chew on them.  Quite often a box I had placed out of reach would end up in his grasp!

He knew his name and responded to my voice.  When I asked if he wanted a Stick, he actually would become excited, knowing very well what I meant.  He was very clumsy sometimes, though, dropping his sticks half-eaten through the bars to the lower section where only debris was supposed to fall for removal.  When I cleaned the bottom section of the cage, I found dozens of wasted sticks.

I hope there is an afterlife for our beloved pets.  Dear Kiffle, we loved you and miss you.

Pumpkin has been FOUND!

I should have known better.  Whenever I gave one of my babies to some one in the past, the cat or kitten often would hide from his/her new owner, sometimes for a few days.  When Pumpkin did not show a whisker for two days after my return, though, I went into a panic, with awful visions of him lying dead beneath a box on the porch...

Yesterday afternoon, I realised that, whatever the cost, I had to move everything in that room to find my last recalcitrant Puttikins.  I found him ultimately in the darkest, most inaccessible corner with Jasper sleeping on top of him!  No air or light for those two.  They missed their windowless room, evidently, so I picked them up by the scruff of their necks and returned them to the little interior bathroom where they had resided previously.  They appear to be much more at ease now.  They actually eat and drink.  Silly little boys!

In any event, I was so happy to see that little heart-shaped face that I almost wept for joy.  I was annoyed that Pumpkin simply stared as though he could not understand what the problem was.  Did he not realise how much anxiety I had suffered???

A Missing Pumpkin

I did not wish to leave my Puttikins for an entire month and, upon my return on Saturday, I discovered how much it had disrupted their psyches.  Despite the fact that both Bobbie and Jackie love animals and especially cats, the disappearance of their Mummy for a month as well as their move to a new, larger room, albeit one filled with boxes and other storage stuff, made them even more fearful and paranoid than ever.

Remember that most of these cats never saw any one but me....  Two days after my return,  I still have not seen Pumpkin nor even any evdience that he is alive.  When I first greeted my Putti, they ALL hid from me.  Soon, though, Beauty and Ash came out and Cupid followed shortly after that.  I could see most of the others in their hiding places.  The ones whom I could not see were Temujin and Pumpkin.

I went repreatedly into the room and sat quietly on a chair.  It was not until I returned in the middle of the night (and no electricity there!) that I felt the presence of many of my Putti brushing up against my legs.  Scruffy Leo finally began to purr, a sound I had missed terribly.

I kept vigil in the night, but no Pumpkin.  I sat on the chair from 4.00 a.m. until an hour after dawn and was rewarded by greetings from every one BUT Pumpkin.

Dear little Pumpkin... I worried terribly about him and still do.  I pray he is alive and well somewhere in that room.  Despite the fact that I did my best to move all the boxes, finding horrid little desposits of offerings of resentment and terror in and beside them, (many of them archaeological evidence from the beginning of May I daresay), no hint of Pumpkin.