Karnak Street Kats

Irene, my gray and white female, has decided that being a house cat might not be such a bad thing. I think the breakthrough came when I provided several rooms where she could stay and where her nemesis, Wellington, was not allowed. Before that, she she usually stayed outside from early morning until dark. Now, she goes out in the morning, but returns in a couple of hours and does not go out again.

She does not like to be held, but she does like to have her head rubbed. For several years, I have made a point of petting her head any chance I get. At night now, she climbs onto my bed, then my chest and waits for her head rub. I try always to oblige. Irene becomes quite irate when I need to move or roll over. She considers it a personal affront.

Irene has also managed to convince me to provide her her own private drinking glass. There is a large bowl of water on the floor that is always available, but she prefers her water untouched by other cats. I do not remember the first time I filled a large plastic medicine bottle for her to drink from, but now it is a habit. When she jumps up onto the vanity around the bathroom sink, I fill her container to the brim. She drinks happily. Since she has had kidney problems in the past, I am glad to indulge her.

Irene still carries on a running commentary on the evils of human hands whenever I pick her up, but she seldom struggles or bites. Once in a while, she obviously thinks I am taking liberties and will still give me a nip. Sometimes, I think it is a test to see if I am as resolute as ever in keeping my hold. (I am.)

My goal is to convince her that a life as an indoor only cat would be quite acceptable.