Kanoko, as you’ve often seen, likes to stick his curious self into otherwise-still lifes. These are some of the treats I’ll be having to ring in the New Year, with egg and pine cone added for symbolism (the New Year being associated with rebirth). Pine cones are also neat for their math: their scales are arranged in Fibonacci number sequences, as are shell spirals and many other things. As for Kanoko, I’m pretty sure his mathematical basis is most closely related to chaos theory.

When not nerding out over snail shells and pine cones while drinking French wine, I’ve been playing my new digital piano (it’s as nice as I’d hoped) and writing a paper for one of my Masters courses. Once it and a second paper are finished, the first three-fourths of 2011 will be spent focused on my thesis. (As a reminder, I’m working on a Masters in comparative literature.) My initial research has been going well, in spite of, and even thanks to, a few setbacks, because they piqued my curiosity and incited me to look places I wouldn’t have otherwise. My advisor is great as well, and has recommended works I was unfamiliar with, that are a huge boon. It’s a good foundation, and working on these two smaller papers has helped develop ideas I’ll use in my thesis too, so I’m looking forward to the challenge. Yes, I am speaking in generalities on purpose — the topics involved are things that people often feel strongly about, whether they’ve analyzed them or not, so I prioritize my own peace of mind over attracting readers to my site with something more piquant.

That said, Kanoko is quite piquant. (In French, piquant can mean “pointy; sharp” in addition to “spicy; provocative; stimulating”.)

Happy New Year to everyone, all the best for 2011!

With 2010 nearing its end, it’s safe for me to say it’s been a very long and rough year. Two weeks ago, Patches fell badly ill, and rejoined her original owners. Now it’s just Kanoko and I, but it’s going to stay that way — I don’t think I’ll take another second cat for a while.

Shown above, Kanoko playing with a catnip-filled toy gifted by a friend. It’s not the best photo, technically speaking, but his expression is priceless; I love his gleaming eyes and clawéd paw. He also has a carrot that he delicately places in front of his food bowl when not playing with it.

Apart from rough times, the year is ending very well, which is a relief! I’m happy to say I met someone, three weeks ago now. I don’t want to say more than that on my site, currently (just for privacy’s sake). I know it must seem odd to announce it and then say so little, but saying nothing would also be a bit rude. In short, I’m happy, he seems happy too, and I hope that things continue to go well.

The weather seems set to give us snow in Nice this Christmas, with temperatures hovering just below and just above zero lately. We’ll see! The snow we had in February was impressive.

Yesterday, after I’d fi-nal-ly finished painting my big living room wall, was preparing to go to school twelve hours later, and wanted to mention how well Patches is doing with us now, I wondered how to bring it all together in a post.

Today I went to school, sat in a Bauhaus building classroom with gorgeous views of the hills of Nice, and in my second course, which is titled “Imagologie et ethnologie”, was greeted by Mister Smarty-Furry-Pants, as you can see above. So there you have it. Style, classes, and a cat.

Another cat post! This one mainly for Patches’ owners, so they know how she’s doing. A few days after Grey passed away, Patches became very talkative and cuddly. I was surprised at the quick change, but she went back to hiding and growling only a week later: one evening, she suddenly stopped purring and meowing in her tracks, crouched down, looked around everywhere, and then snuck off to her favorite hiding spot for another week, until this Friday. Were I to anthropomorphize, I’d say it seemed as if she realized, “wait a second, I don’t know this woman or this other big furry cat… where am I, again??” She would only come out to nap on the towel her owners had left — I kept it in a nice spot on purpose, figuring she’d want their familiar scent. She still sleeps on it every night.

Compared to her still-nervous extroversion two weeks ago, this week she now behaves as if she were “at home”, having adopted some spots on the patio and by the big living room window. I took the photo above today — she closed her eyes just when I snapped it! She hadn’t dared go on the patio two weeks ago, but she sauntered on out as if it were perfectly natural this Saturday.

Kanoko and Patches have an entente cordiale, occasionally pouncing on one another. Kanoko’s very careful around her, since she’s so much smaller he seems to recognize that she’s no real threat to him. Patches is quite comfortable asserting herself with Kanoko; it’s good that there’s a balance.

An hour before I returned to the vet for the last time on Thursday, Nice was hit with a hail and rain storm; our first rainfall since the end of May. It lasted up until a few minutes after Grey’s passing, and hasn’t rained since. Kanoko was puzzled when I came home without Grey, pawing at the empty cat carrier and looking at it from every angle, then meowing at me. The next day, Kanoko was much worse; when I got home from work, he had strewn placemats and napkins around the apartment, and had rubbed his face raw on one side during the day. He’d never done any of that before. While I was home, he obsessively searched the apartment for hours, especially re-checking Grey’s favorite spots on the cat tree and kitchen bar. When he’d exhausted himself from all the walking, Kanoko sat and licked his fur for another hour, occasionally stopping to meow-wail — it was not a meow I’d ever heard before.

Saturday (yesterday) went better, although Kanoko still took time to search the apartment occasionally. He snuggled with me much more than usual, and finally, in the evening, relaxed enough to sprawl out as shown above. Today he’s mainly been sadly peeking into Grey’s spots, again; the most heart-breaking was when he even checked under the living room chairs, then sat listlessly, head drooped for several minutes, just staring at the floor.

I want to thank everyone who’s written — I’ve read all your comments and been touched by them. Like Kanoko, I too keep looking at Grey’s spots out of habit, since he always had his head toward me, the only exception being when he was watching birds outside. But when there were no pigeons at which to gaze, he’d sit on his white chair and meow or sigh happily when he saw me go by. I’d usually go out and give him an ear scritch.

I most miss his “discoveries”, which he’d always share. Slugs were the funniest. This winter was very wet, and my patio would often get the slimy visitors in evenings. One evening, I heard Grey give a long, insistent meow. I wondered if something were wrong, so checked on the cats from the patio door. Grey was sitting on his hind legs in the middle of the patio, Kanoko was napping on the composter, nothing looked amiss. “Meeeeeoooowww!!!!” Grey repeated. “What, dear?” I asked. “Maw!” Grey replied, keeping still in his spot. “What? What is it?” I asked him. He looked down, did a cute little dance on his front paws, and happily said “Meow, meowmeowmeow!” then looked up at me expectantly. I went out to look at what was fascinating him. “Moww!!!” he danced again on his front paws, looked down, said “meeeeeow!” and looked up to say a soft “maw”. I burst out laughing: the object of his curiosity was a little brown slug. “Yes dear, that’s called a slug,” I told him. It moved, ever so slightly. “Maaaaawwww!!!” he said to it, cocking his head to one side. “Yes dear, they’re very slow,” I chuckled, and patted his head. He purred and gave another soft “maw”.

His gentle spirit is very missed. I am, however, experiencing a different sort of grief than for Malo’s more traumatic passing (just after I’d moved in to my then-new apartment, he had escaped through a window that wouldn’t close properly and been hit by a car). Although Kanoko and I miss him very much, and wish that Grey had had more time in good health, remembering his trust and purring happiness while in my arms at the end makes it much, much easier to bear.

In a very sad turn of events, I chose to have Grey put to sleep today. On Tuesday evening, by chance, I took an earlier bus home than usual. This turned out to be a fateful coincidence: as soon as I got home and washed my face, Grey used the litterbox near the sink. I glanced at it, then panicked — there was a lot of blood in and around his stool. I rushed him to a nearby vet — had I come home at the usual time, the vet would have been closed.

Grey was hospitalized, given blood transfusions and several tests. I took the next afternoon off to return to the vet and check on him. More tests were needed, since Grey had tested negative for the first ones done. I agreed to the extra tests, keeping in mind that if he had something transmissible, Kanoko and Patches would also be at risk for it. Results still came back negative for them all: it wasn’t poisoning, FeLV, FIV, or anything else that could be tested. Bloodwork showed he was very anemic and having liver problems, but it wasn’t fatty liver syndrome. (He had been eating and drinking fine; I’d been watching closely since I had been worried about how thin he’d become recently.) Very low red blood cell counts; very high white blood cell counts; low albumin, high bilirubin. Kidneys and heart were fine. The vets — two work at the clinic I went to — both agreed it was an autoimmune disease, very probably Feline Infectious Peritonitis. Quote from that article: “One of the most difficult aspects of FIP is that there is no simple diagnostic test. The ELISA, IFA, and virus-neutralization tests detect the presence of coronavirus antibodies in a cat, but these tests cannot differentiate between the various strains of feline coronavirus. A positive result means only that the cat has had a prior exposure to coronavirus, but not necessarily one that causes FIP.” The “good” thing is, that it’s mainly transmitted in unclean environments; I’ve always been good about litterbox and general cleanliness, plus Kanoko is at a healthy age and Patches, constantly hiding, hasn’t been in contact with Grey or anything that could transfer from him.

As for treatment, it could have been possible to keep Grey alive for another week, few weeks, perhaps a month or two. However, for that to work, he needed to eat… and yet he refused. I took him home yesterday evening and tried to give him some of the delicious-smelling prescription food the vet had given me. He turned his nose away from it. This is a cat who would gallop to the kitchen, meowing up a storm, as soon as he heard his metal food dish come out. (I give a bit of wet food to Kanoko and Grey from time to time, in addition to their usual carnivore-specific dry food.) I tried using the feeding syringe the vet had given me, putting food onto Grey’s tongue through his teeth. He swallowed it dutifully, but ran away and hid on a dining chair under the table when I tried a second syringe.

I woke this morning to Grey on the floor by the bedside, waiting for me. He meowed when he saw my eyes open. I snuggled him, then picked him up and took him out on the patio. He didn’t want to sit in his favorite pigeon-watching spot. Instead he hopped onto his favorite chair and meowed for me again. I offered him some food. He turned away, huffing. I tried the syringe again. He swallowed, but refused some, leaving bits of wet food on his mouth that he didn’t lick off. I ended up having to sponge the food off his fur. I brushed him, which made him purr with happiness, then he set to cleaning his front paws, even the one bandaged to protect the needle kept in his arm for further transfusions.

I took him back to the vet just afterwards, as we’d agreed the night before. Grey had another transfusion. The vet told me to come back at three this afternoon, after she’d observed him some more and had a firmer idea of his prognosis. When I returned at three, the vet had him in her arms, and Grey nearly lept out for joy on seeing me, meowing and pawing excitedly. I took him in my arms. He purred his motorboat purr and kneaded my shoulder and arm. The vet told me he was still refusing to eat, even with a syringe. His prognosis was very bad; to survive he would need daily transfusions. I brought up euthanasia and the vet agreed. Grey stayed in my arms the whole time, purring and head-butting me up until the end.

Monsieur-qui-parle was a pet name I gave him, since he was always keeping up a conversation with me. The vets remarked on it too, noticing his different tones of voice and how purposeful he was with his meows; for him it was clearly communication, he never meowed just for meowing’s sake. And he was always so gentle; an exceptionally sweet, kind cat. I miss him very much. However, I’m also glad I was able to let him go while he still had the heart and energy to purr. I couldn’t stand to see him suffer and not even find joy in eating.

Those of you who visit my photostream may have noticed a new arrival yesterday evening: her name is Patches and she’s a 9-year-old domestic shorthair calico cat. Her owners had come to Nice with her from the US last year, planning to return this year. Unfortunately, as for so many other people, the economy isn’t providing enough opportunities to ensure that they and Patches would have a home back in the US. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t find any shelters here to take in Patches, and veterinarians charge a daily holding rate for animals left in their keeping. They asked me if I knew of any other associations or shelters, who were either full or didn’t answer the phone… It’s very hard at the end of July and beginning of August, because it’s French vacation season, and unfortunately that means a spike in pet abandonments, which translates into shelters filled to capacity. So I offered to take in Patches. (I want to be very clear, knowing how often judgement can be passed on people who are forced by circumstances to rehome their beloved pets: it was obvious from her owners’ emails and from meeting them in real life, that they love their cat very much and that they did everything they could for her. The economy hasn’t been kind to anyone. Well, except perhaps to dishonest financiers.)

Patches arrived Tuesday evening, with her owners, whom it was a real pleasure to meet, and has been hiding ever since. First in the kitchen, then under the bedroom chest of drawers, and now under the bed. This is pretty typical of cats who’ve changed homes! I’ve only taken this one photo of her, since it’s best for her to feel as safe and comfortable as possible. Kanoko and Grey have been very good, giving her space and being gently curious, but when I noticed that Patches still wouldn’t budge from under the bed this evening, I shut them out of the bedroom and let her have it (with a bowl of food and her litterbox) all to herself for a few hours. I plan to do the same while I’m at work tomorrow, hoping that she’ll feel more at ease that way.

Hopefully things will work out for the best for Patches’ owners, and who knows, in a few months we may be able to get Patches back to them. I have an idea what it’s like, having gone through my previous cat Malo being given away without my knowledge to someone I didn’t know. I made peace with him having a new home eventually, but was nonetheless overjoyed when several months later, his new owner decided she couldn’t care for him any more and demanded that I take him back. She didn’t have any experience with cats before Malo, however — I’ve had cats all my life, am very happy to bring in a third furball, and whatever happens, Patches will be cuddled and pampered along with my two boys Kanoko and Grey, for as long she stays with us.

Two weeks ago, I removed the glass shower door in my bathroom. The surrounding floor and walls were starting to rot, and I knew the door blocked much of the airflow needed to dry out the rest of the shower properly, so I decided to just take it out myself and put in a shower curtain and rod. While taking out the door, I discovered that the previous owners hadn’t waterproofed any of the seams… which is mainly why things had been rotting. However, it did make it much easier to remove the door, since all I had to do was unscrew it from one wall and pull it out of the other (it hadn’t been bolted in on both sides). As a reminder, they hadn’t waterproofed the floor beneath the tile shower they installed either. Every time I discover something like this, I’m glad I bargained down the price on my place — I had been very hard-nosed about it since some of the electrical work they’d done was borderline dangerous, which I suspected meant the rest of their “improvements” might be similar. Score one for intuition.

Putting in a curtain really improved the airflow, along with letting in a good deal more light… and a certain water-loving Maine Coon mutt! The video above shows Kanoko playing with the falling water this morning. I could keep him out by shutting the bathroom door, but his never-ending delight brings a lot of joy into my day, and so some old hand towels have now become Kanoko’s shower towels, and he’s happy as pie with the arrangement. When we finish showering, he saunters out alongside me, purrs while being towelled, then contentedly preens while I get ready for the day.

I mentioned some surprise seeds all sprouting in the last post — my pumpkin patch is growing well. All four are still healthy, those two are the largest. And they’re still just young’uns!

Today I gave Grey a shower! Being the sweet cat he is, he complained merely by wailing pitifully and trying to get away from the shower head, but he would still purr when I lathered him and petted him. He never tried to scratch me.

I’ve noticed a real difference in temperament in these two cats that I’ve raised on my own. With unbroken consistency — having a cat with someone who doesn’t understand the importance of consistency can ruin that — and only positive reinforcement (though I do occasionally yell when they do something dangerous), they’ve both become very happy, well-behaved and trusting cats. They’ve never reacted in fear to me. Kanoko has the bad habit of dashing around underfoot, but even when I accidentally step on or kick him (oh, the guilt when that happens!), he won’t claw at my legs like other cats have. He just flips his ears back and puts himself out of harm’s way. Minus a bit of fur that’s stuck under my feet sometimes…

Grey’s coat had never quite recovered from his month or so on the streets; it was stringy, greasy and dandruffy. Although he’s eaten excellent food (Acana and Orijen) ever since arriving, and has regular brushings, his fur didn’t show much improvement. Thus his shower today. Grey’s fur looked much better even when it was damp, as in this photo, and now that it’s dry, it’s definitely nicer!