Two big pieces of cat news. One – Czester and Scrapper have been fixed. Two – a new cat has entered the house.
Let's start with the boys.
One Friday in late-March, Céleste did not return home in the evening. She did not appear on Saturday, nor on Sunday. By Monday I was starting to get worried. She'd never been away this long before. Mid-morning, I went into the forest next door, trailed by five felines. Together, we reached our fallen log, I sat down, surrounded by cats. Within a few minutes, I noticed Céleste's presence among us. She came up to me, I stroked her, she was very affectionate. We all went home to eat – but Céleste left soon after and didn't spend the night inside. I woke up at about 2am for a wee, and before going back to sleep I pondered whether something was going on within the feline family that had caused her to withdraw. It occurred to me that Czester and Scrapper had been showing signs of getting, uh, over-familiar with their sister... And so I called the vet on Tuesday morning to arrange for their castration, scheduled for the Friday morning. No sooner had I finished my call than I opened the front door to find Céleste on the threshold waiting for breakfast. She continued spending nights outside, but she started to come back during the day to sleep in the kitchen while I was around.
The big day came. I had already brought down two cat carry-boxes from the attic, ready for the morning. The vet had asked me not to feed the boys before the procedure. Neither Czester and Scrapper protested as they were lowered into the boxes vertically, the lids fastened. The remaining cats were then fed. Czester and Scrapper were loaded into the car and driven – a three-minute journey – to the vets and their appointment with enforced impotence. I was told they'd be ready to collect in the afternoon.
And so it was. A procedure so, so different to a female sterilisation! Whereas Wenusia had to stay indoors for an entire week, the boys were merely kept in overnight, and by the next morning, they could already eat as much as they wanted and were allowed to go out! Wow! Had I know it was going to be this easy, I'd have done it earlier! (There was the issue of the car's immobilisation due to many weeks of snow cover.)
Below: here they are, i due castrati. Scrapper flashes me an accusing glance: "Why d'ya do it, human?" Czester, the former sister molester, just lies there, resigned.
Céleste still elected to spend Friday night outside, and her first encounters with her castrated brothers suggested there was a little vestigial testosterone coursing around their bodies as evinced by their over-eager greetings. But by Saturday, they had become more polite. And Céleste has subsequently returned to choosing to stay indoors overnight, every night. Which given the light frost that accompanied the change from astronomical winter to early spring, must have been a relief to her. She's obviously not being bothered by Arcturus or Pacyfik – yet.
Two days after the operation, Czester jumps up onto the kitchen table, looks me in the eyes and asks to be let out. I reach up to open the window. He steps onto the window sill. No longer am I confronted by a pair of big bright orange furry balls proudly displayed between his hind legs. I am looking at a small round cauterised wound where his maleness had once been. With Scrapper, the loss is less evident, as he was possessed of a smaller scrotum which somehow blended in better with the rest of his rear quarters.
Other than behaving more courteously towards their sister, there has been no major change in Czester's behaviour, although post-snip, Scrapper has become vastly more interested in food. In any case, the seasonal shift from winter to spring has led to a general increase in appetite among all the cats. I am finding the need to open an extra sachet or tin to keep them all satisfied, and have increased their three feeds a day to four.
Around 19 March, I started noticing a new cat on my działka. An elderly white neutered tom with black patches on his head and haunches. His behaviour indicated a longing for company and (despite his bulk), hunger. I felt sorry for the guy; he kept turning up outside my house a couple of times a day. I left some food out for him which he ate with gratitude. He then started to jump up onto the parapet. I'd open the window, he'd gingerly probe the inside of my house, but in the end caution got the better of him. Not wanting electrically-warmed air to escape, I'd shut him out. Until one day he decided to come in.
Below: "You were outside. I was inside."
Wenusia does not like this outsider at all. She'd hiss and swipe at him with her paw. This old cat was not family. She didn't want him hanging round her kids. He might spread disease. But he never retaliated, just gently withdrew. Pacyfik also showed a dislike towards the newcomer. Everyone else, however, was entirely cool with his presence. Czester, Scrapper, even the unneutered Arcturus, would come up to him and they'd sniff each another's faces. No problems, no aggression. Too old to be their dad. I never saw this white cat around Wenusia around the time she got pregnant.
I photographed the white-and-black cat and shared the photos on the local community Facebook page. There were many comments and shares, but no one called to claim a missing cat. The next day I took a long walk around Nowe Grobice, Grobice and Jakubowizna, seeking posters, I found none. No one seems to be missing this old guy, although one helpful comment online said that it was common practice to snip the tip of the left ear of feral cats that have been captured and neutered, as a visible sign that it's been spayed. I checked this assertion with AI:
Me: "In the countryside, it's said that a cat with a clipped ear is neutered. Is this true?"
Gemini: "Yes, it’s true. A distinctive notch or clip on the tip of the ear (usually the left one) is a universally recognised sign that a community cat has been neutered or spayed. The main goal is identification from a distance. Free-roaming cats are often wary of humans. A tipped ear tells humans that the cat has already been 'processed'. It avoids the stress of trapping the cat a second time, and prevents veterinarians from performing unnecessary surgery (especially important for females, where the lack of an obvious scar can be confusing). Ear-tipping is permanent. Once the fragment of cartilage and skin is removed, it does not grow back. The cat carries this 'badge' for life. This practice is standard in 'Trap-Neuter-Return' (TNR) programmes. It is unlikely to be replaced soon because microchips or tattoos require catching the cat to read them."
So there we are. He's a placid and gentle senior cat, looking for acceptance somewhere. After a couple of weeks of daily visits, when it became clear from chats with my neighbours that no one's missing such a cat, I gave him a name: Hipek (short for Hipolit). Weighing 5.3kg, he's much bigger than any of my cat family. Bit by bit, I have won his confidence; he will come by twice a day for food in the kitchen, and last night he actually stayed in the house. As I write, he's asleep in the cat basket on the left of the window sill (Arcturus's in the one on the right, as is his wont). I just hope that Wenusia and Pacyfik will come to accept him in the same way that Scrapper, Czester, Céleste and Arcturus have.
Thanks for the memory: morning flashback
This time ten years ago:
In which I learn to speak
This time 11 years ago:
Sunshine and snow, Łazienki Park
This time 12 years ago:
Shopping habits in the wake of Lidl's opening
This time 13 years ago:
In vino veritas
This time 14 years ago:
Are we getting more intelligent?
This time 15 years ago:
Lenten recipe No. 6
This time 16 years ago:
Coal trains, Konstancin-Jeziorna
This time 17 years ago:
Jeziorki from the air
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