Requiem for the Floofy Ninja

We have been remiss posting on this blog, with most of our recent Penwiper updates going to FB. There was not much had going on really, except that Penwiper developed hyperthyroidism and got his thyroid zapped last fall; there were no after effects. Now, it's the end of an era. Penwiper never really recovered from dental work performed this August. Follow up visits found probable lung and potential intestinal cancer. Steroids seemed to make him feel better, but only for about a week. He never resumed eating normally, not for than a day or two. He mostly hid. But in true Penwiper fashion, he showed his sociability every day with evening tuck-ins and morning wake-up snuggles. That cat loved his humans to the end. But it was time. Thus with great sadness we announce that Penwiper, age 15, was put to sleep today (19 September) shortly after 9:30 AM at Kenmore Veterinary Hospital. After this morning, we have no cats for the first time in twenty-one years. Probably there will be more soon, but not just yet.

Kitten Penwiper, the week he arrived

Penwiper in a sunbeam this past July

Knee Reocovery

 As I recover from my March 17th left knee replacement, Nurse Penwiper is looking after me.

Someone is Feeling Appreciated and Cuddled.

The March of Kitty Treats

"Dragons live forever, but not so little kittens …"

At 13 1/2 years old, Penwiper is still a reasonably limber jumper & climber. But he's no longer quite in the prime of life.

Last week I heard a scrambling noise that sounded like he had missed a jump onto the upstairs hall railing.  This is something that he had consistently made for years.

In the past few weeks, I also noticed that he gets onto the kitchen counter for kitty treats differently. Rather than him doing a direct jump from the floor to the counter, he takes the scenic route via the wastebasket at the end of counter as an intermediate step. This is not a terrible thing, but it does say that he's not feeling like two-year-old catten anymore.

A Healthy Start to the Feline New Year

At his last routine exam in early December, we were told Penwiper needed his teeth cleaned and gingivitis taken care of.

This was delayed because the vet had heard an odd heartbeat and wanted him to be checked by specialist before he was sedated. We did that the following week, and he came out with a clean bill of health. (Excellent news!)

Yesterday was dental day. Penwiper had to skip breakfast, and Katherine delivered him to the veterinarian for the dental work at 11 AM. They were short handed, and so he didn't even get sedated until ~ 2:30 PM. He was home, awake but wobbly, by 6 PM. He's been getting back to his normal purring self since.

The good news is that he required no extractions, just the cleaning and the treatment of his gingivitis.

More good news is that after coming home, by bedtime he nommed not one but two cans of wet food, and then he wiped out the kibble left for him overnight.

(And the vet said he would not be hungry. Hah!)

A Kitten in His Natural Habitat

Since the early days of the Summerhill Kitten Farm, the Brothers Catzilla loved diving into luggage, including each one stretching out in half of Katherine's Tumi suit bag (AKA the big Tumi). The boys are gone but not forgotten. Meanwhile the big Tumi lives on, but it's mostly in retirement; these days Katherine mostly uses a small Tumi which can be carried on.

Alas, because the small Tumi has gotten used more (and sometimes been checked on the way home), after one too many encounters with evil baggage handlers it has died. Katherine replaced it this week; as the current Senior Prince, Penwiper knew his ancient duty and checked it out the first time she opened it:

Penwiper Checking Out the New Tumi Carry-on

All is right with the world.

Mellow Mealtime

It has been seven weeks since Oscar went over the Rainbow Bridge, leaving Penwiper as the sole Feline Overlord in residence at the Kitten Farm PNW. One could think we now have no cats; we just have Katherine, myself, and Penwiper, nine pounds of a tuxedo-clad, self confident, happy, sociable person with four paws.

For example, things are more relaxed at mealtime. Penwiper appears for breakfast & dinner, but (unlike Oscar) he doesn't make a production of it; he knows the people-with-thumbs will look after him reasonably promptly. At dawn, he'll quietly appear, make his presence known by a quiet snuggle of a valet, and move on. Oscar used to loudly meow indignantly at the perceived slow service, which resulted in him regularly being booted out of the bedroom and the door shut behind him. Penwiper will occasionally quietly meow in the morning, but the door hasn't been shut on him yet.

It doesn't hurt that with only one Feline Overlord, we still measure his kibble, but we now leave his dish down; when he doesn't finish promptly he can graze at will.

And he is his sociable self, gently expanding his love mongering to fill the void of his departed housemates. 

Life is quietly good.

And Then There Were Two ...

 From my sister Catherine, Bootsie has been helped over the Rainbow Bridge:

Bootsies, 2006-2022. We are so sad to let her go, but she had a large tumor in her hind leg and had lost half her body weight. It was time.

Now Penwiper and Max (at my sister Margaret's in Syracuse) are only two remaining remaining family Tuxedo Kittens.

The March of Time for the Next Generation

With the fading and passing of the Brothers Catzilla in 2020, we are very aware of the limited lifespan of our feline overlords. We saw it coming of course. As the years passed, Billy no longer rushed up the stairs every time or conquered the cat tower as many times during one exercise period. Both cats didn't jump up onto counters and cabinets like they once did.

And now, Oscar & Penwiper, our younger set, are 12 1/2 and 11 1/2 years old. Simply put, they aren't really that young anymore either. 

Today, for the first time I saw Penwiper miss his usual jump from kitchen floor to the counter for treats. I thought he would make it; I think he just didn't get the back legs up far quite enough, and of course a formica counter doesn't offer four claw drive traction like wood does. His fall to the floor was harmless, thank goodness.

I guided Penwiper to the tower we bought Billy in 2022 for an easier climb to his reward. This may become policy for PW & Oscar.

This morning, Penwiper is still good for a happy cuddle and ear cleaning

Smooth Operators

The cat weigh-in was smooth as silk again last night. Doing it weekly helps, as it gets them into a routine.

I realized the scale wasn't out while we were eating, so I popped up and grabbed it before Oscar showed up. This smooths things later, since equipment is not banging around.

When Oscar did show up, I popped up again and got the treats out, which promptly got his attention. 

As I headed around the kitchen island, Oscar, thinking I was headed for the stairs to deliver them to him, raced ahead. 

I was actually headed to Penwiper's room to let him in. When PW recognized this, he picked up his pace to a sprint, and dove off the counter for the door as I opened it for him. Then I headed back to the counter.

Oscar immediately got a clue (he knows PW let into his room means food), and came back into the kitchen. He hopped on the counter before I could get treats on the scale. Treats were offered to Oscar to get him off the scale (to reset it), then on the scale (to weigh him) and then off to the scale (to make room for Penwiper).

Lather, rinse, repeat with a released Penwiper.

Life was good.

Penwiper, the Fluffy Cuddler

For the record, Penwiper is our only cat ever who trusted humans enough to be cradled on his back like a human baby and be petted there.

PW even can have his white tummy rubbed a bit, unlike say the Detweiler's now long departed Radar, who invited you to rub his tummy in order to set up his Venus Flytrap-like feline pounce. (He was FAST, too!)

Chief Snuggler

On day like this, with somber hearings on Capitol Hill that will lift no one's spirits, Penwiper earns his kibbles as the Chief Snuggler of the Kitten Farm West.

While Billy and even Whitey like human attention at times, and Oscar will make daily appearances demanding worship, PW is the chief snuggler because he's available 24x7.

Penwiper walks up to humans and starts purring, without being touched or kitty treats being involved.

He's the only one who thinks being picked up is always a Good Thing, and why yes, a cuddle is then in order.

Unlike most cats, Penwiper comes when called (well, sometimes), especially in response to when he meows from boredom/loneliness. ("A human to drive my blues away? Cool!"). The others? Rattle a cat treat bottle.

And of course, Penwiper lightly follows insomniacs down the hall at 3 AM and curls up with them wherever they land. This doesn't help one's sleep, but it makes the darkness gentler.

(Just while writing this, and we have done the Meow, Call, &  Cuddle sequence twice. Now he's settled in the office tower, ready in case the valet feels the need for a calming stroke of his floofiness.)

Battle Royale

Penwiper is living proof that, like humans, cats roll for intelligence and wisdom separately.  He'll get into a confrontation with a housemate, start meowing when he feels trapped, and when a human valet breaks it up so can he can escape, he steps back ... and then stalks the housemate he was scared of 30 seconds before.

For example, tonight.

Billy and Penwiper started making noises at each other at the top of the stairs, right outside my office.  I grabbed the ever handy Mist of Doom, and mist first Penwiper, who takes the moist hint and backs off into the upstairs hall, and then zap Billy, who wisely decides down the stairs is a prudent (and dryer) place to go.

Only Penwiper decides Billy's orderly withdraw should be exploited.  So he reverses direction and charges down the stairs after our Senior Prince.

Allow me to digress here and point out that Billy and Penwiper don't normally fight simply because Billy is not easily agitated. It's not he can't fight -- in his younger days he would regularly have typical littermate wrestling matches with his brother ... and win.  He is also visibly larger than either Penwiper or Oscar.

So we had Penwiper the Doofus of Darkness versus Billy the Mighty Hunter on the landing of the stairs.  The noise was impressive, it scared me sufficiently that I charged downstairs as fast I could to break it up after 20 seconds or so.

The result? A picture is worth a thousand words:

Center Stage,
after 30 seconds of Billy explaining to PW
that attacking him is a really bad idea.

Note the lack of ticked short-haired tiger fur. That's all from a medium-haired tuxedo with white highlights.  It wasn't a knockout (or a vet visit), but all the judges awarded the bout to Billy.

The good news is that PW only seems to have one or two minor scratches.  His +2 Armor of Fluffiness saves his sorry self again.

Dinner for Two

Penwiper may be the creature in the Kitten Farm PNW with the strongest drives and habits.

When Whitey climbs a tower to reach the top of the adjoining bookshelf, Penwiper will be there right after him to take on station on the top of the tower (trapping Whitey) until we mist the Fluffy Ninja.

When I rise in the dead of night and head for the library due to insomnia, Penwiper will rouse himself, hop down from the bed, and join me at the futon with a purr before I can sit down. Once seated, I invite him up and give him a cuddle, because who doesn't need little extra support in the dark of night?

At meal time, his aggression can get best of him while dinner is being served; to avoid raised paws and growls, he has to go in the downstairs lavatory. However, his drives show here as well -- he understands the directive, "Penwiper, it's time!" and he presents himself at the door to be let in. If we come home late enough for him think it's dinnertime, he'll head for the door without orders. I swear, if he had thumbs, he would let himself in.

Once he's in, we put down Oscar's bowl as soon as it's ready (to shut him up), and then prep Penwiper's and the Catzillas' bowls. Only when all bowls are down, we let Penwiper out to charge across the kitchen, slalom around the breakfast nook counter & dining room table, and attack his bowl.

(If the bowl isn't there yet, he looks sad and confused until the valet with the goods shows up. True heartbreak, expressed in ~3 seconds wall time.)

He may eat directly, or sometimes he'll wander away from the bowl and ask that he may join me for company at the table. This results in my picking up his bowl to set it on the pulled out chair next to mine -- he hops up and after a ruffle behind the ears he settles in.

As he's wanted company every time I've been around lately, this evening I decide to save myself work and to set his bowl on his chair immediately. Katherine opens his door, and starts to explain to me how when he gets to his station and the bowl's not there, he'll do his heartbroken routine. I'm thinking no, he'll get to his station, take one look around, and head for his chair.

We are both wrong. He comes around the corner of the breakfast nook, spies that I have his chair ready for him, cuts under the table and leaps onto his chair without breaking stride. The happy ninja got his ruffle behind the ears and dug into his dinner.

He may be a creature of habit, but he's a smart creature of habit.

Inmates' Demands: Send Cuddles! (Or, What Happens in the Litter Box Stays in the Litter Box ... Usually.)

Day three of the inmates running of the asylum.

This morning I didn't have to get out of bed to see what the boys had done overnight. Something which looked it belonged in the litterbox sat four feet from the bed. No doubt Penwiper meant to leave it in the litterbox, but his furry butt occasionally collects a souvenir which then gets left elsewhere.  Fortunately, this morning's souvenir was dry and self-contained.

Short haired cats do have their advantages.

Speaking of dry and self-contained, three hairballs which were not dry and self-contained had to be cleaned up. Of course, in and of themselves, hairballs in the Kitten Farm are not newsworthy. (We feed the boys, rake their box, clean up their  hairballs, cuddle them, fill their fountains, and repeat). But they do add to the inmates running the asylum ambience.

Penwiper, love monger that he is, has noticed the chief valet is, in his book, AWOL. Immediately after breakfast, he reared back and gently put his velvet paws up on me at the dining room table -- his classic "cuddle me" request. So I padded over to the couch, called him, and gave our lovable inmate a few minutes of petting.

Meanwhile, others are also taking also advantage of the short staffing.  For example Billy thinks the food prep counter, including its sink window, is now in bounds:

Billy Conquering the Kitchen Window

Billy, you're as handsome as ever, but I have a Mist of Doom and I'm not afraid to use it.

Two kitten meals left before the rescue party arrives.

By a Nose

The inmates running the asylum would be so much easier if they didn't rumble with each other. And they have been, or Whitey has been walking into edges of inanimate objects:

Whitey and His Abused Nose

I have my usual suspicions about the other party involved.

Also ...

Note to Penwiper: performing your death-defying leap to the top of the headboard (AKA Death From Above) when it's time to flush the humans out of bed does not work nearly as well if there's no human on that side of the bed.

Two hairballs (one two-part hairball?) cleaned up.

Boys fed, box raked.

Four kitten meals until the chief valet returns.  (I miscounted yesterday).

Family Portrait

Wednesday  morning, something happened which I'm not sure has occurred since Penwiper arrived years ago -- all the cats more or less in the same place for more than ten seconds.  And war didn't even break out.

I was even able to get a picture.

The Four Feline Overlords, Together at Last.
(click for a larger view)

Better Purring Through Technology

While the original Summerhill Kitten Farm (built in 1890) was transformed into an electronic cottage before we had cats, these days many of the technological advances at the Kitten Farm West are actually driven by the Feline Overlords.

For example:

• The main reason we own a an HP CP2025dn LaserJet is not because it's a fast networked duplexing color printer, and that it uses powdered toner which doesn't dry out. No, we bought it because by combining the function of a color inkjet and a B&W Laserjet, we have a single taller printer that leaves more space in my office for cats and makes a better launch pad for Whitey or Penwiper to do a spider-cat worthy jump to the top of the library bookshelf.
• Recently, we adjusted the shelving in the living room entertainment center so that the receiver, a smarter brother of the Big Black Kitty Warmer in my office, now has the shelf clearance to be used by a feline for its true purpose of keeping a cat toasty. They haven't discovered it yet, but they will.
• Back at Christmas, we replaced +Katherine Derbyshire's aged iPad 2 with a iPad Mini 4, which is faster and smaller. With the recent addition of a Zagg keyboard and an iOS beta of her favorite writing tool, that means more futon time in place of sitting at her desktop, with more room for a feline in her lap.

Alas, our work is never done.

Yesterday, Katherine pinged me from her office to ask me to print a document that she'd put on the cloud. I found this odd, but complied. While I printed it and fetched the result, she explained that she was on her futon with her iPad -- and the cat on her lap had decreed she didn't need to get up just then. She had already searched for how to print directly from her iPad and found something called AirPrint, but our monster of a printer, released in 2009, has never heard of it. Fortunately, Google search has.

After I chatted with our local server, the Chief Kitten Valet can now print from her iPad. I don't know how she'll retrieve the result, though.

p.s. We interrupted writing this post after the word "complied" to worship the just-arrived-on-my-desk Penwiper. He was petted, and settled on a desk pillow to groom himself. 

We then returned to our previously scheduled blog post ...

Spider-cat: The Next Generation

Those who have followed our cats for any length of time knows that Whitey is the Spider-cat: he loves heights, and generally never falls off his chosen perch once ascended.  (We've chosen to ignore a certain unfortunate incident in 2014 -- at least he did execute a good landing that day.)

However, the younger generation does have its own spider-cat talents, doing something even Whitey has never tried:

Coach Penwiper ready to ride the exercise bike with me

My coach checks me on almost everyday I ride.  A few times when he's seemed interested I've boosted him up there, but usually only to where his hind paws are on the reading ledge of the front side of the console.  But I didn't help him today -- I wasn't even near the bike when he hoisted himself.

If that looks hard, it's because it is; that console is about an inch wide, and curved.  Without the paw on the handle bar, even he would tip over.

The Cafe Matou Food Ballet

What we do for our cats ...

This video shows part of the morning food ballet, from after putting PW away to as I dish up Billy:

 Penwiper Wanting to Eat on the Terrace Video

Penwiper, who of course is always dressed formally for breakfast, seems to like to break his fast on the terrace lately.

The normal sequence:

• Escort PW to his waiting room
• Collect bowls for Oscar and PW
• Dish up Oscar and PW (and save two kibbles for Billy & Whitey)
• Put down Oscar's bowl under phone
• Put down PW's bowl by back door
• Shoo Billy away from PW's bowl, point him towards the private dining area
• Open door to the waiting room, allowing Penwiper to scoot to his bowl ...
• ... as Billy scoots into the waiting room ...
• ... because Billy knows I'm going to throw a kibble into it!
• Also throw a kibble to Whitey (keeps him out of PW's bowl until PW can get to it)
• Get bowls for Whitey and Billy
• Dish up Whitey, put bowl down
• Dish up Billy, put bowl in his private dining room (so he doesn't raid other bowls)
• After everyone finishes, let Billy out.

This went awry this morning at the "PW scoots to his bowl while I take of Whitey" sequence. He checked his bowl and immediately wandered away, swatting at Whitey to boot. (The swatting before he eats is why he waits in isolation for food).

Putting Penwiper's food on the terrace caused him to hop up and become a happy focused diner. We don't know why.   (He's also the only one allowed to join us for dinner, since he's the only one with the interest to visit and enough manners to mostly stay off the table.)

p.s. Boy do I look stiff in this video.   I need to put thought into moving with more energy.

Up, Up, and Away ...

Penwiper, at the tender young age of 10 and one-half years, decided the top of the dining room hutch needed inspecting yesterday. This of course was not a new journey for PW, he first made the top of the hutch when he was three years old. Seeing him up there again was wonderful, as it shows PW still has his inner spider-cat. He beats Whitey's record, who as I recall last did it when he was 9 or so.