Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Sleepy Cat (again...)
Sultan just got another scratch pad and another bed - along with all his new Christmas toys - to provide him with some variety, which he loves. This is him relaxing at the end of the day, where he starts curled up on my lap and ends up like this:
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
FAKE SULTANS!
I was on the internet a while back looking up "Sultan", and while there are many Tuxedo Cats that may at first glance look like Sultan, consider THESE two....
A fat lazy copycat using Sultan's name...
... and ANOTHER MUSEUM CAT ! An extra-tough "Fat Sultan" who controls the environs of the Bodie (Ghost Town) State Park Museum in the Northern Sierras!
A fat lazy copycat using Sultan's name...
... and ANOTHER MUSEUM CAT ! An extra-tough "Fat Sultan" who controls the environs of the Bodie (Ghost Town) State Park Museum in the Northern Sierras!
Sultan Update...
Sultan is busy trying to fatten up for the
winter (we've had to "restrict his rations") while remaining a cat who
can leap completely over furniture and bounce a catnip mouse all over
the room. I've opened all the window curtains to him... he simply
looks out, gets bored, and goes back to play in his Mouse City or enjoy
the sun for a nap.
He also returned to my lap - the number one place he enjoyed at the museum - for the first time since he moved here.
I
took him out last week for the first time since he moved in... he saw
some wind, felt the colder air, and recognized that he didn't know this
driveway and ran back in the house!
A
radically different cat, but I do get deeply sad for him (as I
mentioned in a previous Blog) that he cannot really have the totally free life
that he enjoyed before without consequences. He seems so happy... but
I still wonder if he thinks of the past and the museum much.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Sultan at Play...
Sultan loves his Mouse City, which on any given day usually consists of the Mouse House (a large cardboard box with holes where the "mice" live); a smaller mouse condo, and at least two paper grocery bags that he loves to tear to pieces while he hunts the mice and then sleeps on.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Sultan's Leather Jacket...
Some pics of Sultan enjoying "his" leather jacket in "his" own bedroom, next to my computer.
Monday, October 8, 2012
For Hermione and Sammie...
Sultan's freedom versus his survival...
On Saturday morning, September 29, 2012, my friends' cat Hermione apparently jumped the fence in their yard at 9:00 am and has not been seen since. At almost the exact same time, a little cat named Sammie who lived very close by and loved people as much as Sultan was found dead in his yard. They were both sweet little cats who loved life and their opportunity to be outdoors.
____________________
Even while he now lies next to me upside down on top of my expensive leather jacket with a big smile on his puss, it has been a struggle for me to see Sultan become a house cat after having lived in a way in which he got to enjoy a truly free life despite his four previous "caretakers". Before I ever even suspected there might someday be an opportunity for me to actually care for Sultan, I imagined - and stated outright - that if I ever had the opportunity to care for my buddy, I would literally be willing to drive him to "work" each day so that he could continue to enjoy the place that he relished so well, and then pick him up to take him home. Pasadena's first commuting cat.
But as I mentioned in the last post, Sultan has survived odds that astound me... and most others who really think about his life. He lived just off the coyote-filled Arroyo, often had the freedom to go out any time of day and sometimes overnight, and he crossed a busy street at least twice per day for almost eleven years, a street known for full-throttle test drives of 500 horsepower Porsches and Audis from the Rusnak dealerships on Colorado. In addition, the cancer rates for animals kept outdoors in Los Angeles are higher than almost any place in the United States. Add in the use of poisons to control the increasing populations of rats. Not a recipe for the long life of a pet.
Over the past seven months I also had watched a change in Sultan. He stopped taking those walks at the Museum, during which he would show off and run far up every other tree. He also played less and at times seemed much more nervous, of cars, kids, and noises in the night. I remembered my neighbors' semi-abandoned cat, and how he had clearly acted as if something was out there that might get him those last few days before he disappeared at fourteen.
So here Sultan sits, retired from his Mascot / Gate Guard / Pilates Coach positions, and I try to keep him happy and fulfilled.
Today, at his scratching post play station, I built him a mouse-hole castle out of a big box, really a kind of puppet theater for a cat. Various catnip mice pop in and out, while he stares wide-eyed and in shock of the infestation, and then rams himself into the front of the box, reaching far in to grab a mouse or two, then jumps into the air in excitement at having an actual catnip mouse at his feet.
Soon I hope to construct a window shelf upstairs by this computer, so that he can watch the squirrels play and the neighbor work in his elaborate garden, which I hope doesn't make him pine too much for his old days of abandon, but instead will keep him entertained and provide a warm sunny spot through the winter.
Because, after all, he is STILL quite a cat!
On Saturday morning, September 29, 2012, my friends' cat Hermione apparently jumped the fence in their yard at 9:00 am and has not been seen since. At almost the exact same time, a little cat named Sammie who lived very close by and loved people as much as Sultan was found dead in his yard. They were both sweet little cats who loved life and their opportunity to be outdoors.
____________________
Even while he now lies next to me upside down on top of my expensive leather jacket with a big smile on his puss, it has been a struggle for me to see Sultan become a house cat after having lived in a way in which he got to enjoy a truly free life despite his four previous "caretakers". Before I ever even suspected there might someday be an opportunity for me to actually care for Sultan, I imagined - and stated outright - that if I ever had the opportunity to care for my buddy, I would literally be willing to drive him to "work" each day so that he could continue to enjoy the place that he relished so well, and then pick him up to take him home. Pasadena's first commuting cat.
But as I mentioned in the last post, Sultan has survived odds that astound me... and most others who really think about his life. He lived just off the coyote-filled Arroyo, often had the freedom to go out any time of day and sometimes overnight, and he crossed a busy street at least twice per day for almost eleven years, a street known for full-throttle test drives of 500 horsepower Porsches and Audis from the Rusnak dealerships on Colorado. In addition, the cancer rates for animals kept outdoors in Los Angeles are higher than almost any place in the United States. Add in the use of poisons to control the increasing populations of rats. Not a recipe for the long life of a pet.
Over the past seven months I also had watched a change in Sultan. He stopped taking those walks at the Museum, during which he would show off and run far up every other tree. He also played less and at times seemed much more nervous, of cars, kids, and noises in the night. I remembered my neighbors' semi-abandoned cat, and how he had clearly acted as if something was out there that might get him those last few days before he disappeared at fourteen.
So here Sultan sits, retired from his Mascot / Gate Guard / Pilates Coach positions, and I try to keep him happy and fulfilled.
Today, at his scratching post play station, I built him a mouse-hole castle out of a big box, really a kind of puppet theater for a cat. Various catnip mice pop in and out, while he stares wide-eyed and in shock of the infestation, and then rams himself into the front of the box, reaching far in to grab a mouse or two, then jumps into the air in excitement at having an actual catnip mouse at his feet.
Soon I hope to construct a window shelf upstairs by this computer, so that he can watch the squirrels play and the neighbor work in his elaborate garden, which I hope doesn't make him pine too much for his old days of abandon, but instead will keep him entertained and provide a warm sunny spot through the winter.
Because, after all, he is STILL quite a cat!
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Sultan and Me
... or is it Sultan and I?
I first met Sultan in the way most visitors to the Pasadena Museum of History meet him: finding this sweet little cat spread across the stairs at the Museum's entrance to get cool. Since the little guy would also stretch body and tail long enough to practically block most of ten-foot width of the concrete steps, we know, Sultan, that it was just as much to get you noticed and a pat on the head.
My wife calls me the Pied Piper of Cats, so it's perhaps a bit surprising even to me that I settled to see him and pat him just every once in a while like most patrons did, rather than to have sat down and got to know him right away.
But still, I thought of him regularly and soon I, and then both my wife and I, started stopping by to see him.
There was something about his dedication, his passion for the place, and his love of people that got me right away. But then I noticed something else, which I later witnessed as I stayed longer --- as much as he was loved, he was spending an inordinate amount of time totally alone, sitting in the parking lot sometimes for hours, if not almost the entire day on occasion, with a lot less contact than people assumed.
Still, he loved the place.
One of my proudest and happiest photos with him is the one posted above, taken when I set up my MP-4 digital motion camera to shoot a video of the way he would rub me when I arrived. Why that one? Well it was taken before I started bringing him treats, therefore the attention was pure love of seeing a friend.
I began visiting him more and more, intending to spend forty-five minutes, but then staying for two hours. The visits became regular and much the same: I would pull in, Sultan would recognize the car by sound or shape, he would run at me meowing, and I would get out and grab my towel, some treats, and a good book to read. We'd then head over towards the garden, always stopping for him to stretch and scratch the trunk of the big Redwood tree before the path, and then we would walk over to the table and chairs, where Sultan would jump up, I would use a napkin or plate to pore a few morsels, he would gobble them down, and the I would throw the towel over my lap and he would start to step into my lap, stopping to first kneed the material and soften it (and often my skin - ouch!).
We would sit and listen and look. The breeze, the birds, the squirrels, the people, the bugs, even the occasional dog or cat.
We saw everything that many others missed due to their work loads. The odd people who might stop by after hours; the sweet people who had a story or agenda to relate; the Police helicopter and sirens that annoyed him even more than it did me; and the change of light and seasons in that wonderful if small oasis in the city.
There was the possum who climbed over the wall one night, causing both of us to freeze as still as could be; the small cat whom caused Sultan to leave the earth in flight when he chased him out of HIS territory; and the Mallard duck pair who flew low under the trees arriving in a setting-sun-lit spray across the tiny pond as they landed and began their mating ritual (Sultan and I both turned our backs).
I learned there was never a small creature he would not love to stalk, I learned there were plenty of big creatures he would rather pretend were not there, and I learned that when he saw a dog, he would watch carefully and just as soon raise up on his haunches in preparation for a charge of attack as he would slink down and hide, no matter what the mutt's size.
I also saw his love of people, in particular women, with who he would assert an instant affection. His eyes would blink, he would act shy, and then he would be showered in "what a handsome kitty!" and lots of pats.
I even saw him once pose - yes, pose -- when a European tourist came up to him and raised a camera in his direction. I couldn't believe it - he actually stiffened into a handsome formal sit, blinked his eyes in the most gracious of ways, and sat still for five full shots. What a HAM!
Often he would sleep, as cats do, on my lap, in the lot, or in the bushes, but usually with at least one eye ready to open at a moments notice. Soon, he trusted me enough to sleep deeply in my lap, to the point of twitching and shaking his little legs as he chased mice in his sleep.
Once, he was so exhausted in the hot sun that when I found him in the front corner, dead asleep under a truck tire against the curb, I thought he was indeed dead and felt my heart sink as I called and called him from just a few feet away without a single movement of his eyes, head or chest. Finally, in shock I yelled "Sultan" and his head shot up, half-asleep but happy to see me. "What if that truck had backed up? What if a coyote had walked up behind you?" I asked, in deep relief to see my friend okay.
And that's what we were, Friends. Buddies, I called us. I knew he trusted me as a friend and I found myself at a crossroads ---- did I spend more time with him to help this cat survive another few years of crossing that street, spending all hours, even overnight, in that lot... or did I start to wean myself out of his life so that he could continue whatever had somehow kept him alive all of those ten years?
He was - at that place - quite a cat....
I first met Sultan in the way most visitors to the Pasadena Museum of History meet him: finding this sweet little cat spread across the stairs at the Museum's entrance to get cool. Since the little guy would also stretch body and tail long enough to practically block most of ten-foot width of the concrete steps, we know, Sultan, that it was just as much to get you noticed and a pat on the head.
My wife calls me the Pied Piper of Cats, so it's perhaps a bit surprising even to me that I settled to see him and pat him just every once in a while like most patrons did, rather than to have sat down and got to know him right away.
But still, I thought of him regularly and soon I, and then both my wife and I, started stopping by to see him.
There was something about his dedication, his passion for the place, and his love of people that got me right away. But then I noticed something else, which I later witnessed as I stayed longer --- as much as he was loved, he was spending an inordinate amount of time totally alone, sitting in the parking lot sometimes for hours, if not almost the entire day on occasion, with a lot less contact than people assumed.
Still, he loved the place.
One of my proudest and happiest photos with him is the one posted above, taken when I set up my MP-4 digital motion camera to shoot a video of the way he would rub me when I arrived. Why that one? Well it was taken before I started bringing him treats, therefore the attention was pure love of seeing a friend.
I began visiting him more and more, intending to spend forty-five minutes, but then staying for two hours. The visits became regular and much the same: I would pull in, Sultan would recognize the car by sound or shape, he would run at me meowing, and I would get out and grab my towel, some treats, and a good book to read. We'd then head over towards the garden, always stopping for him to stretch and scratch the trunk of the big Redwood tree before the path, and then we would walk over to the table and chairs, where Sultan would jump up, I would use a napkin or plate to pore a few morsels, he would gobble them down, and the I would throw the towel over my lap and he would start to step into my lap, stopping to first kneed the material and soften it (and often my skin - ouch!).
We would sit and listen and look. The breeze, the birds, the squirrels, the people, the bugs, even the occasional dog or cat.
We saw everything that many others missed due to their work loads. The odd people who might stop by after hours; the sweet people who had a story or agenda to relate; the Police helicopter and sirens that annoyed him even more than it did me; and the change of light and seasons in that wonderful if small oasis in the city.
There was the possum who climbed over the wall one night, causing both of us to freeze as still as could be; the small cat whom caused Sultan to leave the earth in flight when he chased him out of HIS territory; and the Mallard duck pair who flew low under the trees arriving in a setting-sun-lit spray across the tiny pond as they landed and began their mating ritual (Sultan and I both turned our backs).
I learned there was never a small creature he would not love to stalk, I learned there were plenty of big creatures he would rather pretend were not there, and I learned that when he saw a dog, he would watch carefully and just as soon raise up on his haunches in preparation for a charge of attack as he would slink down and hide, no matter what the mutt's size.
I also saw his love of people, in particular women, with who he would assert an instant affection. His eyes would blink, he would act shy, and then he would be showered in "what a handsome kitty!" and lots of pats.
I even saw him once pose - yes, pose -- when a European tourist came up to him and raised a camera in his direction. I couldn't believe it - he actually stiffened into a handsome formal sit, blinked his eyes in the most gracious of ways, and sat still for five full shots. What a HAM!
Often he would sleep, as cats do, on my lap, in the lot, or in the bushes, but usually with at least one eye ready to open at a moments notice. Soon, he trusted me enough to sleep deeply in my lap, to the point of twitching and shaking his little legs as he chased mice in his sleep.
Once, he was so exhausted in the hot sun that when I found him in the front corner, dead asleep under a truck tire against the curb, I thought he was indeed dead and felt my heart sink as I called and called him from just a few feet away without a single movement of his eyes, head or chest. Finally, in shock I yelled "Sultan" and his head shot up, half-asleep but happy to see me. "What if that truck had backed up? What if a coyote had walked up behind you?" I asked, in deep relief to see my friend okay.
And that's what we were, Friends. Buddies, I called us. I knew he trusted me as a friend and I found myself at a crossroads ---- did I spend more time with him to help this cat survive another few years of crossing that street, spending all hours, even overnight, in that lot... or did I start to wean myself out of his life so that he could continue whatever had somehow kept him alive all of those ten years?
He was - at that place - quite a cat....
Monday, August 6, 2012
Sultan's Many, Many Sleeping Spots...
Sultan is still working his way around his new home, testing spots to sit and sleep. As I write this, he is in fact lying in yet another new spot, on my old leather jacket next to the computer. Here are (1) my spot on the couch that he has co-opted, and (2) a spot under a plant stand where he can relax in a "garden" setting that may remind him of the Museum.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Sultan well-healed...
Sultan is well-healed and received his new scratching post last night. He loved it. Thing is, we had NO IDEA of his catnip addiction! He went into the kitchen and hunted down --- using his sniffer -- the location in the upper pantry closet of the cat nip, and then proceeded to cry until we gave him more... and then did the same thing all over twenty minutes later... and twenty minutes after that.
Okay, Sultan -- we get it. We've created a monster by pampering you like a king and giving you everything you want, even before you want it. So now we have to learn the word "No"!
But you're so cute....
Okay, Sultan -- we get it. We've created a monster by pampering you like a king and giving you everything you want, even before you want it. So now we have to learn the word "No"!
But you're so cute....
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