FUREIGN CORRESPONDENT - "DRINKING PROBLEM"

FOR MONTANA, PRINCE OF PUSSYCATS.

 

Good night sweet paw prints

And flights of sparrows

Sing thee to thy sleep

 

Wait.

Why are the sparrows flying a 'missing bird' formation?

And puss, is that a feather on your nose?

 

Montaannnnaaa!!

 

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We lost Montana to kidney cancer early in 2010 and like most much photographed cats there were a lot of newly precious pictures to sort through. I picked this one out 'cos it illustrated one of the many personality traits that helped make him special to us...

 

'Tana had a kind of drinking problem, which is to say, he always dipped his paw in the water to have a drink. We were never sure if it was a depth perception thing or if perhaps he was just being well mannered! Of course he'd leave damp footprints and splash water about when he flicked his paw to dry it. You could always tell when he'd been drinking 'cos when he jumped up on you his paw would be damp...

 

He and his pal, Sirroco, were the first pets Gail and I chose together. At the animal shelter our first sight of Sirroco was him clinging by all fours to the cage door while his friend, Montana, hung out casually on on the window ledge at the back of the cell and looked us over. They had been the pets of an older woman who had to give them up for some reason and were only being sold as a pair. We weren't looking for two cats but ended up taking both home since they were mateys and were only being sold as a pair. (In Australia we used the term 'mate' to mean 'good friend'.) We're glad we did, as they've been great companions for many years. The animal shelter said their names were "Sam" and "Sylvester" but they weren't names we were happy calling out into the night...

 

Monty had a lot of other particular habits...

 

-We named him Montana since he was really good at climbing and jumping, and it often seemed like he was levitating. This was a cat who loved 'the high ground'.

 

-He did not generally like to be picked up and it would only be a matter of seconds usually, unless he was sleepy and caught off-guard, before he would start to squirm.

 

-Montana always pretended to be fooled by my impression of a whistling canary. If I did this behind a door or from under the bedsheets he'd soon be poking around trying to find the birdy.

 

-He loved sleeping with his head resting in my hand. At night, when I was in bed, you'd feel a soft 'thump' as he landed on the doona, I'd open my hand, palm up, and click my fingers. He'd drop his head down into my hand and then sort of collapse/roll the rest of his body. He revelled in this so much that sometimes he'd get up just so he could do it again! What a hedonist...typical cat.

 

-People taking showers seriously disturbed him so he'd push open the bathroom door and then you'd see his little shadow against the cubicle door while he cried. ("Ahhhh! You're getting WET ALL OVER!!")

 

-A dawn riser (hoping to catch those worm eating early birds) , he was better than any alarm clock and would wake me at sunrise, which would have been handy if I ever actually needed to get up then, which mostly I didn't. (This is one thing I emphatically DO NOT miss!)

 

-Playing under the bed sheets as the bed was being made was another favourite game.

 

-He'd chase ping pong balls and play soccer with them until they inevitably hid under furniture, which was fine, unless they were out of stretched paw reach and then they became boring.

 

-In his younger, more limber, days he'd leap up on top of the washing hanging on its drying rack and go to sleep. The other cat was much heavier and would copy him, leaving the rack bent and wobbling...

 

-We slowly, carefully introduced the cats to our dog, allowing them to sniff each others' noses under a door for a couple of weeks before letting them mix in the same room together. They got on well but there were incidents now and then, particularly one time when Montana was sitting on the couch and Kane decided he wanted to as well. The dog hopped up on the couch, flopped down next to Montana, crowding him with his big bottom; what a liberty! Monty's eyes were big as saucers as he looked to us to arbitrate the property dispute.

 

-Like all cats he was heat seeking. Whenever we've lived in houses with ducted heating he would lie directly on top of the vents when they were on. It was always amusing to see him stroll across a room on a sunny arvo until a wayward sunbeam would catch and stun him with its warmth.

 

-Favourite toy, pretty much like all our cats, was a dress-maker's plastic tape measure, dragged around the floor and whipped under doors. Hours of entertainment. When he got exceptionally excited he got the maddest eyed look and would gallop insanely around the house at high speed.

 

-He and Sirroco would spar every now and then in mock fights that would often go too far and end in tears and yowls. Although people often thought Montana was a large cat Sirroco was twice as big and with a much longer reach. Rocky would sit up and wave a long Oriental paw at Montana to fend him off. The best strategy 'Tana had was to just barrel in fast and low and knock Rocky off balance. (Wham! "Acck!") Other times they were best mates of course, particularly on a cold day when they'd curl up together and indulge in mutual grooming, which Rocky usually benefited more from.

 

-Getting under houses was his idea of heaven. Montana once emerged with a thick bag of cobwebs wrapped right around his head and I could hardly help him 'cos I was doubled over laughing. Another time, Gail pulled a bird pecked tomato out of the garden and casually shied it out onto the lawn. Montana was meandering along and sure enough it nailed him squarely on the head. Should've seen him jump!

 

-Montana was completely fearless and adventurous. His party trick was to get himself locked in other people's garages...and I once saw him beat up another cat until it fled, and as it was escaping over a fence he chased it, pulled it off the fence, and was finishing mugging it when I intervened.

 

-He could delicately pick his way along a shelf of standing action figures without knocking one over. Naturally enough he was always ambling into shot when I was doing a photoshoot with toys. "Wotcha doin'?" (Moggy nose prints on camera lens.)

 

-Montana also really enjoyed playing in a canvas cat-tunnel. You didn't dare touch the side of it with your bare hand when he was lying in ambush inside it. As the many

tiny holes in the sides bore witness to, his claws were always ready to strike. The safest way to play was to tap the sides with a chopstick and watch the tunnel walls comically bulge as he went silly.

 

-When pestered by Purrparazzi he never once said 'No Photos!" though he did have the most devastating grumpy cat glare which he'd use whenever he didn't care for his food, which was frequently! (He was a real fusspot.)

 

-Thunder, noisy powerline outages, fireworks, car backfires...loud, odd noises had him busily patrolling the house and growling like a teddy bear. Yet, he wasn't fussed by lawnmowers, vacuum cleaners or other types of power tools.

 

-Montana was a serious hunter in his prime, belled collar and restricting daylight only roaming hours notwithstanding. We nicknamed him and Sirroco "The Ghost & The Darkness", Monty being the latter. I'm sure his tabby coat, which was perfect camouflage against a weathered fenceline, came in handy when he was stalking. Sometimes we'd find feathers and 'gifts' under the bed, a 'boxed' mouse on the door mat and once, a bird drowned in the toilet...we never did figure out that one exactly. Doubtless something complicated involving amphibious ninja bird assassins and ever vigilant samurai cats.

 

Inevitably, we've become experienced at supporting various pets through their last days and with much appreciated advice from one of our good friends, who is in the Vetinary field, try to ensure that they don't suffer unduly. Montana's final week was exceptionally pampered with lots of gentle grooming, special treats and closely monitored outdoor time as he sunned his old, weary bones and enjoyed warm breezes, cuddling up to hot water bottles, and the odd visit from cheeky doves who wandered excitingly close to his sickbed. We kept him comfortably hydrated with injections of fluids until his kidneys shut down and just before he grew too wobbly to walk we took him to the vet to do the deed. As he grew sicker his personality changed, with food based and sleeping behaviour retained until the end and the last memories I have of him are being fussy about food, sitting on the table bumming treats off Gail, and having a nap in the warm sunshine, with his head in my hand.

 

The lethal injection went as well as could be expected (well, y'know, the patient doesn't live!) with Montana feeling too poorly to fuss over the usual liberties taken by the very supportive vets. Gail held him on the table while I crouched down, cradled his head, mussed his ears and looked him in the eyes until he died.

 

When we brought his body home we put him on his bed and allowed the other cat to go up to him. Rocky sniffed his friend, gave him a lick on the head, and walked away. ......simple as that really, and it seemed to keep him from wondering what had happened to his mate, though he clearly did miss him for the next few days at least, and has become a lot more vocal in his absence. We counted ourselves lucky, of course, that we were not in a total feline vaccuum, which helped a lot.

 

Sirroco lived until 2015.

 

Of course, the thing is that you find out that lots of other peoples' felines have the same habits...which doesn't make your own moggy's personality less endearing or exasperating. (The two emotions never being far apart when it comes to cats!)

 

 

Done