It is hard to get a good picture of Plum, because he really prefers to spend most of his days lying on a hassock in a dark-ish corner of our living room, or lying like roadkill right in the middle of where one walks from the dining room to the kitchen. But this weekend he was up and about and I got a few good shots of him with eyes open!
Sean likes to take him out on the deck for a bit of fresh air. Plum seems to like this very much too—he will talk the entire time he is out there, and if you hold him up to a nearby tree, he will nibble a leaf or a twig.
He is still on clomicalm for his spraying issues. He is just on a quarter of a pill, instead of the prescribed half, but it seems to work for him. While on the meds, he doesn’t seem too out of it, yet it takes the edge off his more annoying behaviors. On Saturday I ran out of pill pockets so skipped a dose, and he then tormented Posy all Sunday. Plus Sean thought he might have been spraying upstairs, although we haven’t found any proof other than odors. So on Sunday evening he went back on the meds, after Sean personally bought him two bags of pill pockets so we wouldn’t run out in the near future.
I still don’t get why he bothers Posy, since she never bothers him back, and doesn’t try to stand up to his authority. Perhaps he is just a bully? Or perhaps his neutering wasn’t quite completely successful?
A good thing about Plum is that he is still great with Owen. Owen is quite gentle with the pets on the whole, but whereas Posy will run away, and Dorothy will sigh and mope, Plum will stand his ground and even on occasion seek Owen out. He will rub against him, and talk to him, and not be bothered by Owen’s pats. So there’s that!
I was feeling pleased with myself yesterday because I was able to cut 17 of Plum’s 18 nails. The last one is too close to his footpad and he didn’t like me touching it. We shall try again tonight though. He also has a few clumps that need to be cut off. The indignities of old(ish) age!
Plum thinking I am alpha cat, hear me roar.
1 comment:
Our dear, departed Boots was a champ when it was time to clip her nails. Although she did bite viciously if you pet her too much -- one time putting me on antibiotics for ten days plus a tetanus shot....
Karina, however, is a gentle soul but you'd think we were killing her when we trim her nails.
There is something about male cats, I think, that is rather special. Ben's first word was "Woody" but Woody was a bit rough with him and was given to a single woman friend who adored him.
Funny how your pet and Owen stories send me down memory lane.
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