New Adventures

He's been in the wars again.

Last weekend saw him with a dodgy eye. One evening late on, he appeared with his left eye partially shut. It seemed not to bother him much but over the next day or so it wept slightly. It was back to normal by Monday. That same day some clue to how it mught have happened occurred; he races everywhere and shot into the computer room (glorified junk room), across the entire flor and ran straight into the leg of the chair I was sitting on. I could feel the reverberations - cats must have hard skulls (or more likely, great shock absorbers). I guess his eye was the result of a similar collision or jabbing himself with one of the unravelled strands from the twine he plays with.

He still hasn't been outside. We were going to abbreviate the 'in for three weeks' diktat but last weekend was miserable during daylight hours so we delayed our intentions. This weekend will be adventure time when we go to the country. There's a two hour car journey to look forward to, no doubt with constant comment from the basket. I'll feel happier about letting him wander (though observed for the time being) away from the London traffic. He's still obstinate and won't come to his name though he clearly recognises the call and he very occasionally takes fright of his surroundings and panics.

It figures to be an interesting weekend

Flying Cat

I'm glad to say Mr. Binks is very much back to rights.

In fact he's moved into overdrive and is running around the house about four feet off the ground. He's been pretty quick to learn - though not always observe - the house rule of no cats on the kitchen worksurfaces. He eats all the time and has developed a plaintive cry as if he can't believe you haven't fot up, moved to the door etc. just to feed him. I hope his voice breaks - it's still very kittenish, he won't want to sound like that allhis life.

He has run of the house now at night as well as during the day. We took pity on him last Sunday when he was poorly and let him sleep on the bed. He seems to get up about 4am and go downstairs, returning at the first vestiges of light which is currently around 7am - the time I should get up. Not much fun on the weekends though - we'll see if we can tire him out but it looks a tall order.

Snuffles

The weekend was not without worry.

On Friday Mr. Binks developed a cough. At first this seemed mechanical; he rushes around the kitchen, ever eagre to find out what's going on even while he's eating. That he had inhaled a bit of food during this didn't seem surprising. He sort of dry coughed a bit but it didn't slow him down and next morning it more or less gone, certainly by midday. But on Sunday he started to sneeze.

All the indications seemed to be that he had cat flu. This is something he had been inculated against on the previous Sunday - the day we took him home - with dead vaccine. There had been conversation about this; it's supposedly safer than the live vaccines but no comment was made on its effectiveness. He kept his spirits until late on Sunday when he started to sleep a lot more though a far cry from retiring completely. He was sneezing less yesterday and I'm glad to say, less again today.

Does he have something? The sites on the subject (Feline Advisory Bureau one of the best all round) don't give any indication of incubation times. So the unlikely case of him getting it from the rescue (he hasn't been outside yet) is matched by the unlikely possibility of it being trigured by the vaccine. There's always the vets - he has insurance after all - but as things are moving in the right direction and nursing care for viral infections is very much keep hydrated, fed and warm, we'll wait a while.

Introducing…

Thanks to a colleague's lend of a digital camera the least bad of my attempts is here.

Binks' confidence grows. He's fascinated by everything with particular favourites being the fish and us and must be where anyathing is going on or might happen. He managed to get between the dishwasher and the cabinet last night - a gap that seemed only about three inches wide. We didn't panic and after a minute or two he re-appeared covered in fluff.

White cats, well… He was pristine in his pen at the rescue but since scurrying around our house his paws have gone greyer and greyer. Some of that must be cat-litter but despite an outing for the vacuum cleaner before his arrival (so not to scare him subsequently) I guess our house isn't as dust-free as we think.

Wasps

Mr. Binks continues to explore.

We are to keep him indoors for three weeks or so. Initial instructions were to allow him to calm down in a single room, 'not the kitchen or a communal room'. That leaves a bathroom? A bedroom? All equipped with trays and water? So that didn't last long. For safety reasons he is currently confined to the kitchen overnight and when we're out. Monday was the first day we all went into (nearly) every room together for a sniff. Now he's getting the hang of counting the floors and working out where is. There have been the occasionally scary moments when he's looked out a long way over the four flight drop or jumped up on the banister (which must only be two to two and a half inches wide) at the 'top of the house'. He can perch on very narrow ledges but isn't completely footsure, falling off th every narrowest sills.

He's ever conscious of missing out on something and keeps very much to where we are. I was delighted when arriving home near midnight yesterday, he came down stairs to greet me. Or possible to have a chance at getting outside. Jean says he heard me jangle keys before they got into the lock. Indeed his hearing seems prodigous; he perks up to the fish in the aquarium moving small stones or rustles of feet in socks. he seems visually acute as well (one endearing moment at the rescue was when inspecting the cat-who-wouldn't-come-out, we turned round to see, through two panes of glass and about ten feet, our actions being keenly observed by Binks).

And he's found more dead wasps than I thought there were in the house. Two to date; he was playing with them. The best toys are always the ones you make yourself.

Power restored during the day

Candles

Last night had its own theatre. Just as dinner went into the oven the lights went out and we've had no power since 9:00pm. That meant candles and despite our attentiveness Binks has a few scorched whiskers and a valuable lesson for minimum cost. He's learning fast; not to be on the work surfaces and table (though that is hard to resist as it supplies a great vantage point for the aquarium) and to leave the furniture in favour of the new scratch post.

That arraived yesterday evening and was a great purchase. None of our cats every had one before but we noted it as 'No. 1' in the Christmas presents for pets. Binks took to it immediately and means that the designers have got it to a tee or he had one before rescue. That casts some doubt on the put-out-on-the-street disgnosis - perhaps the charities like to talk up the horrors of their charge's previous lives to prick the consciences of those who might adopt. But then again, perhaps the see and hear of too many real horrors.

The top platform seems to be the only area Binks protects as his own, adminstering the warning bite without pressure to reprimand too much liberty being taken when he's there - attentions he allows anywhere else.

The power cut derailed my attempt to get pictures. I've taken some and they're terrible; blurred and badly exposed but I'll post when I've got electricity.

What's in a Name?

Somewhat belatedly I've been checking 'Mister Binks' on the Internet for unfortunate connotations. There was a close shave with 'Mr. Bigglesworth', Dr. Evil's (hairless) cat in 'Austin Powers'. Fortunately there are no hideously embarrassing associations with the name - well none discovered to date. 'Mr. Binks' throws up a slew of references for an award winning German Shepherd who seems to have sired half the dog population of Australia. And a budgie fancier which, judging from early actions at the kitchen window, our Binks may have more in common.

So why Binks? I don't know, it came to me and it stuck. I guess the 'Mister' will get dropped apart from on the vet's records. At the sanctuary he was 'Fata'. The best guide to where that came from must be our observation of a stray young German Shepherd (coincidentally) being admitted. The finder was asked for a name, "Foxy we call him" only to be told they already had a Foxy, so facing blank looks all round he was taken under the finder's name. Binks was a stray too and his form said he had been owned (as opposed to feral) and was found in the street brought in by a 'driver'; most likely one of the charities (RSPCA etc.) I guess rather than a cabbie though no-one seemed to know. Anyway, if that's the case, Fata we thank you.

Binks is in the process of tearing the place apart. Which seems to be par for the course for a 7-month old. He was attentive in his pen but still. He was clearly saving his energy for when he got a run up. Quite the fastest thing on four paws I've seen for a long time, he skids around the smooth floors in alarming fashion and has a straight line apporach to all journeys. It's quite amazing how he can run over a sofa without breaking stride. Our decision to go back the day after we saw him meant that we are without scratching posts - that may cost our furniture dear.

Other than the pocket whirlwind effect, all other aspects of settling in are going well; eating, drinking and litter tray managent with no problems.

One observation about the re-homing process. We considered pedigree cats and informally contacted several breeders. More than half of them (especially Abyssinians) would not sell us kittens because we intended to let them out. Quite the opposite at the Mayhew - they virtually would not release animals (special circumstances such as FIV and elderly cats) to homes with no access to the outside. No catflap = home visit it seemed.

Mr. Binks came home today.

The New Year's resolution not to remain catless reached critical mass very quickly. On Saturday we went to the animal welfare (Mayhew in North-West London) to 'take a look at them and have them take a look at us'. We found them a charity doing a good job in the circumstances (volunteers, short staffed, scant organisation) and they found us a good risk, despite our house's proximity to a main road.

We wandered around the pens. There were quite a few cats but fewer kittens. The post Christmas returns (allergies, unwanted and too much trouble) hadn't really started but the pre-Christmas out-on-the-streets had made up the numbers. Most charities won't release for rehoming before Christmas for obvious reasons. We saw several cats to which we could give a home but left without one as we expected a home visit (not required as it turned out) and wanted more time to make what could be a two decade decision.

Overnight we settled on two. Convinced we would either get cold feet or someone would make off with them we returned today.

They were both still there but one refused to come out to us. When we got back to the officers it transpired that one was 'semi-feral' and the other hated other cats. That meant that they wouldn't let us take both away. We deliberated - that meant one or neither. In our situation (more later) maybe just the one was sensible so we made the choice for the 'shy quiet one' on his own.

So Mr. Binks came home with us.