Happy Birthday Ivan!
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Ivan at 2 days; 3 weeks; and almost 3 years
Three years ago today, Ivan was born and abandoned, for some reason(s) we will never know. Of all my critters, his birthday is the only one I truly know. I never suspected (and would have laughed had you told me) that three years later, he and four additional naughty-boy cats would be the official heads of our household, and I would be the hopelessly crazy cat lady. Crazy bird lady, yes. Crazy animal lady, even, yes. But cats!! No way! What an interesting journey it has been. I went from knowing next to nothing about cats to caring round the clock for a newborn kitten. The syringe feeding of KMR wasn't a stretch, as I have nursed/dropper fed many types of animals. Beyond that, though, it was all foreign territory. I remember his frequent crying for food, "reeeaaar, reeeaar". I still don't know if most young kittens say, "reear" instead of "meow", or if that was just Ivan. By the time he was old enough to be weaned (8 weeks, but he continued his bedtime feedings for a few months), and I still hadn't found a home for him, our fate was sealed. That is probably the only way in the universe that I would have allowed a predatorial animal to live in my haven for prey animals. Once I cracked open that door, four other boys soon followed. Notice how I am placing the blame on the sneaky cats, rather than my pushover self;)
Ivan is now a big, strong 11 pound boy and has few remnants of the tiny newborn, who looked more like a rodent than a cat. He still has the precious multi-colored nose, and the white spot on his back that seems to embarass him (no, really--but I don't feel like explaining it). He runs the house like a crotchety dictator, with the other cats "pussy footing" (ha ha ha) around him--literally--except for... wait for it... Petey. Petey does not show Ivan the proper respect, and Ivan hates him for it. They scuffle over it now and then, but nobody comes away with worse than a little nose scratch--usually with nothing though. As much as we love Ivan, we realize that he is an ass to everyone but the four human members of our family. He's ferocious with strangers and feels it's his job to guard us and our house. He enjoys playing with his brothers, but only when he feels like it, how he feels like it, and when he initiates it.
He seems to still think of himself as more one of us (human) than one of them (cats). He says "bye bye" to me sometimes when I leave the house. Both girls have heard him, but he NEVER does it in front of Mark. So of course Mark likes to say that I imagine it. He also has this weird behavior whenever I do the dishes. He parades back and forth around my feet, while making this stranging, talking like sound whenever I look at him. I swear it's like he's really trying to tell me something, but I just can't understand it. It's very frustrating. As long as I pull up a stool right next to me while I'm washing dishes, he will hop up, sit on the stool, and be quiet and happy. I'm not sure if that's what he wants or if he's just accepting it as the best the 'stupid lady' can do. He loves table food. Almost anything that I eat, he must eat, too. He is very pushy about taking what he wants. He especially loves any kind of bread and goes nuts over donuts. He comes running for "nums" (people food that he likes) but is the only one of the cats who refuses his "treats" (cat food treats). He wants nothing to do with those, while the other boys will come running from anywhere if they hear the "treat" word. One of his cutest Ivanisms is cuddling Luciana's My Little Ponies. If she leaves them out on the floor, he will gather up several of them and cuddle up and go to sleep. He's very comfortable in his manhood.
So, 40 or 50 years from now, when I'm found dead in my house amongst the countless cats, people will say, "How? How did this happen?" You will all know the answer. It was Ivan. Ivan the Terrible. He started the whole thing! It's strange how a tiny orphaned cat can so deeply and profoundly affect one's life. Take it from someone who was cat indifferent up until three years ago, if you don't share your life with cats, you are missing something more wonderful than words could ever begin to describe. I have had just about every kind of domestic (and non-domestic) animal through the years, and there is something so special and uniquely wonderful about cats. Just trust me on this one.
Ivan is now a big, strong 11 pound boy and has few remnants of the tiny newborn, who looked more like a rodent than a cat. He still has the precious multi-colored nose, and the white spot on his back that seems to embarass him (no, really--but I don't feel like explaining it). He runs the house like a crotchety dictator, with the other cats "pussy footing" (ha ha ha) around him--literally--except for... wait for it... Petey. Petey does not show Ivan the proper respect, and Ivan hates him for it. They scuffle over it now and then, but nobody comes away with worse than a little nose scratch--usually with nothing though. As much as we love Ivan, we realize that he is an ass to everyone but the four human members of our family. He's ferocious with strangers and feels it's his job to guard us and our house. He enjoys playing with his brothers, but only when he feels like it, how he feels like it, and when he initiates it.
He seems to still think of himself as more one of us (human) than one of them (cats). He says "bye bye" to me sometimes when I leave the house. Both girls have heard him, but he NEVER does it in front of Mark. So of course Mark likes to say that I imagine it. He also has this weird behavior whenever I do the dishes. He parades back and forth around my feet, while making this stranging, talking like sound whenever I look at him. I swear it's like he's really trying to tell me something, but I just can't understand it. It's very frustrating. As long as I pull up a stool right next to me while I'm washing dishes, he will hop up, sit on the stool, and be quiet and happy. I'm not sure if that's what he wants or if he's just accepting it as the best the 'stupid lady' can do. He loves table food. Almost anything that I eat, he must eat, too. He is very pushy about taking what he wants. He especially loves any kind of bread and goes nuts over donuts. He comes running for "nums" (people food that he likes) but is the only one of the cats who refuses his "treats" (cat food treats). He wants nothing to do with those, while the other boys will come running from anywhere if they hear the "treat" word. One of his cutest Ivanisms is cuddling Luciana's My Little Ponies. If she leaves them out on the floor, he will gather up several of them and cuddle up and go to sleep. He's very comfortable in his manhood.
So, 40 or 50 years from now, when I'm found dead in my house amongst the countless cats, people will say, "How? How did this happen?" You will all know the answer. It was Ivan. Ivan the Terrible. He started the whole thing! It's strange how a tiny orphaned cat can so deeply and profoundly affect one's life. Take it from someone who was cat indifferent up until three years ago, if you don't share your life with cats, you are missing something more wonderful than words could ever begin to describe. I have had just about every kind of domestic (and non-domestic) animal through the years, and there is something so special and uniquely wonderful about cats. Just trust me on this one.
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