Truman was mostly chilled out at the vet today. It was his annual checkup and shots and he did just fine. He’s gained some weight and we have to watch the kitty calories (don’t we all!) but otherwise he’s in good shape and a healthy three year old.
He’s asked me not discuss the numbers from the scale. Just keep the kibble coming. And treats.
Truman is adjusting to the relocation of his cat tree to accommodate one of three Christmas trees in our home this year. He has batted at the bottom row of branches and has climbed up as far as the second from the bottom row of branches. So far he has not bothered any of the ornaments. The styrofoam and other less fragile ornaments are along the bottom of the tree.
Since this is Truman’s first holiday season living with us we’re not sure how he’s going to be around all the extra merriment. We have a couple of long weekends away coming up, so the big Christmas tree won’t go up for another two weeks. The smaller trees will help us gauge how he’s going to react.
It’s good to ease him into the change. Actually, it’s good to ease us into the change. We all know he runs the roost.
Truman isn’t a particularly cuddly cat. He has his own way of ritualizing his expressions of appreciation: every morning when I come out of the bedroom to great him he stands on his back paws and leans his front paws against my waist, without claws, but as if I was a scratching post. When I walk from my home office to the kitchen he jumps out from behind something and plants both paws against my leg and then runs, as if to say, “c’mon Dad, let’s play!”
Once in a while he’ll have his moments where he’ll give me a boop or a nudge to let me know he cares.
But pick him up? Nah, that’ll be four treats for five seconds, please.
I think Truman is starting to get used to the concept of the weekend. During the work week he’s usually stationed outside the bedroom door, ready to stretch against my waist and then demanding a couple of treats before I go for a walk. On the weekend he makes a bit of a ruckus for a few moments around the same time and then settles down; he starts to complain about the schedule change around 8:00 a.m. As long as he gets his treats, he’s fine.
I know most of my feline friends over the years have enjoyed a predictable schedule, but Truman is the closest adherent to the clock I’ve met thus far.
His automatic feeder gives him a light midnight snack at 10:00 p.m. He stations himself next to the feeder at 9:30 p.m. every night. On the dot.
I wonder what he would have been like with the audible sounds of the old school clock system we had in the old house. Earl says he’s just tuned like Pavlov’s dog, but I’m thinking he’s just a wise cat.
Truman has settled in nicely over the past 6 1/2 months. He has a routine and he’s gotten used to the fact that weekends are not the same as weekdays. He’s not a super cuddler, he prefers to be near you rather than on you. He’s also the first cat I’ve known to show a complete disregard for the human between point A and point Z; for example, while traversing from a spot on the floor to the spot on the couch, he’ll use me or Earl as a stepping stone just as if we were a cat tree, a coffee table, or a chair. He doesn’t care if we’re napping on the couch. I’ve been startled more than once by him jumping from the floor directly onto my stomach while making his way to a his favorite spot on the couch. This is startling. I’ve learned not to drop a string of curse words at him. He doesn’t care about curse words anyway.
I am slightly concerned about his weight and we do our best to keep the treats and feedings under control. His feeder measures his food in “paddles” and we reduced his feedings by one paddle per meal. He has gained 1 1/2 pounds since moving in with us. We have a lot of playtime to keep him active.
Truman strikes a post at nap time. Notice the side-eye toward the human that was taking his photo.
Actually, I’m concerned that Truman is bored living with us here in the Condo of Happiness. He has plenty of treats, scratching furniture, water, cleaning litter, and toys scattered about, but he occasionally races around and makes non-Earthly like noises sounding like he’s being strangled, and then he high tails it across any non-floor surface before running up the curtains.
He wasn’t fixed until a few days before we adopted him, so I sometimes wonder if he has some left over juice here six months later. Maybe he’s just super feisty.