I have been such a horrible blogger of late, and I have an exam on Friday to study for, so that's not apt to change before then, that I thought I'd share one of the few videos of Zapp that I actually have.
I don't know about the rest of you, but my personal favourite part of the video (the part that I feel truly portrays the essence of his Zapp-ness) is the bit when he attacks the part of the floor...where the laser ISN'T. Especially since he seems convinced it IS there. It's a good thing he's absolutely adorable while doing it, don't you think?
Monday, March 21, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Zapp Moves In (Updated!)
This entry has now been updated with lovely graphics drawn by my good friend M (mentioned in the first entry). Many thanks to her and her awesome skills. :)
The first day that Zapp moved in we decided to give him as easy a transition as possible. His old owner brought him over and hung out for a while, giving him a chance to suss out his new surroundings while still having the safety net of his old mommy hanging around.
At first everything went really well. He sniffed around the living room, exploring under chairs, eying the cords by the television as if contemplating how to be able to chew on them later without getting yelled at, and climbing up onto the back of the couch to look out our large picture window. He then got even braver and left the room with me and his old mommy to explore the kitchen and the back bedrooms with a confident little swagger in his step.
His old mommy sat and chatted with me, giving me last minute information about vets and shots he's gotten, etc... and then gave him a treat of his favourite sushi (because she knew he wouldn't be getting that from me anytime soon). Zapp was extremely interested in the sushi when my friend was eating hers, putting his front paws in her lap and sniffing curiously, eying it with a longing gaze. As soon as his sushi was placed in his bowl and put on the floor for him, however, he immediately lost interest. Apparently his sushi tasted much better when it was being fed to him straight from his old mommy's fingertips and he thought he was being sneaky and/or special.
After the special treat that he didn't end up eating much of, his old mommy said goodbye to him, attempting to wrangle him into snuggling even though he was much more interested in exploring and squirmed to get out of her arms. He clearly did not grasp the idea that his old mommy was not going to be around to snuggle him whenever was convenient for him anymore.
Anyway, his old mommy left and I decided it would be best to give him more space and time to explore, let him get accustomed to his surroundings. I didn't want to crowd him or make him paranoid. I wanted to be a good new mommy.
At first, I felt quite good about myself. I had clearly made the right choice. He continued to explore the house, sniffing at things he'd already sniffed at, but that were apparently so interesting and new that they needed to be sniffed again. He even rubbed past my legs a little bit as I attempted to watch him stealthily, not wanting him to know how excited I was to finally have a cat.
My hubby was at work, but was due home soon when I realised that Zapp had not returned from one of his explorations of the apartment.
I started to worry.
Within another half an hour, hubby was home and there was still no sign of Zapp.
I got up from my place on the couch and began to wander around as nonchalantly and quietly as I could, not wanting to scare him if he was merely wandering around one of the back rooms. A quick glance around showed no Zapp. I started to worry. Not too hard, you understand, because he definitely hadn't slipped past hubby when he came home, so I knew he was somewhere in the house, but I had that sinking "uh-oh" feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Zapp?" I called out hesitantly. There was no response. No "meow" met my ears. No glimpse of orange fur was caught out of the corner of my eye. No four legged friend popped his head out to say hi to me. "Zapp?" I called a little louder. Still nothing.
Hubby and I began to look around a little harder. We checked 'his' bedroom first (which is also the office/guest bedroom) where we had set up his litter box, his food and water, and the toys that we'd excitedly gone out and bought for him the week before. He wasn't under the guest bed. He wasn't behind the guest bed. He wasn't in the closet. He wasn't under hubby's desk. In fact, after a thorough search, we decided that he was nowhere in the room.
We checked the bathroom (behind the toilet, though we were hoping he wasn't there) and the kitchen (under the table and in the cabinet carelessly left open), calling his name all the while, sounding more frantic by the second (which probably wasn't helping our cause). No Zapp.
We checked our bedroom under the bed.
No Zapp.
We looked in the closet.
No Zapp.
Finally hubby had the idea to check under the dresser which is behind the boxes we have yet to unpack from when we moved in. Due to its location, it is the dustiest, dirtiest place in the house. I don't have access to clean it. I was hoping that a cat would have enough sense and dignity not to hide there. Under the bed would have been bad enough with the occasional lurking dust bunny. Cat's are supposed to be clean animals, right?
Hubby pulled out his flashlight and shone it under the dresser, and sure enough two glowing cat eyes were staring back at us.
I tried to be positive that our cat was now in the dirtiest place in the house and probably going to develop a sneezing disorder from all the dust under there. At least he'd found somewhere that he could be safe. We attempted to lure him out with treats, but to no avail, so we decided that if we just left him be for an hour or so he'd realise he was safe and emerge to join us in the living room.
No such luck.
We opened his can of food hoping that it would entice him out.
He merely changed from hiding under the dresser to hiding under the bed.
We set the food in the office instead of the living room, hoping that under the guise of more privacy he'd feel secure enough to eat and not starve to death.
He stayed under the bed.
I felt for sure that when we finally went to sleep and climbed into bed above his head that the idea of his new giant "tormentors" being just above him combined with the groaning and squeaking of the bed whenever we rolled over would drive him out from under us so that he could at least explore the house at night without worrying about us and hopefully he'd eat some of his food.
I awoke the next morning to find him still cowering under the bed.
As day two progressed and he only poked his head out from under our bed once or twice, I began to grow increasingly concerned about his prolonged mental and physical health. Maybe he'd never get over his fear of us. Maybe he'd never feel comfortable walking around our house. Maybe he'd simply cower under our bed or our dresser endlessly while he wasted away to nothing, too scared to come out to eat.
Waking up day three to find some nervous cat puke on my rug (rather than the copious amounts of ugly, scratched, grey linoleum tiles that are easy to clean, because we couldn't have had that happen, obviously) only confirmed my worries. He'd also only eaten about a fourth of the fresh food we'd put out for him the night before (throwing away the untouched, but by then dry to the point of being inedible food he hadn't eaten the first night).
I thought about calling his old mommy who hadn't left the country yet, but I didn't want her to think that we were horrible people who were torturing her cat and that he wouldn't be in good hands when she had to leave in a day or two.
Hubby and I started to attempt to bribe him into liking us. We got more toys. We got him a wider variety of food. We'd dangle toys under the bed in the hopes that he'd want to play. We started offering him treats more often than we should have.
I don't know if it was the bribery or that Zapp simply decided that we weren't horrifying giants who wanted to eat him, but around the afternoon of day four, Zapp emerged to rub against my leg as I sat on the couch and attempted to restrain myself from shouting excitedly and scooping him up into a hug, thereby startling him back into hiding.
I ignored him as best I could, peering over my computer at him when he wasn't looking as he once again began to explore his new surroundings. I felt relief start to flood through me as he hopped up into the new cushy cat bed we'd bought him. Apparently he'd decided that I, at least, was okay.
He did return to hiding when hubby came home, but by the end of week one he'd decided he was okay too.
Now, of course, he's sometimes so demanding for attention that I have to close the door to the bedroom so that he doesn't decide he wants to jump up onto my back every five minutes during the night and come see what fun is being had without him (none unless you count hubby snoring and me grumbling about being woken up enough to push Zapp off the bed), which of course results in him scratching and meowing to be let into the parties he's apparently convinced we're having at four in the morning without him.
I was clearly silly to have worried, as he now occasionally stalks both of us to such extreme extents that he trips us up and we end up accidentally kicking him as he tries to walk under our feet.
He also is in no danger of starving to death, and after a few more puke sessions (all of them on the rug rather than the easy to clean linoleum except for the one where I caught him mid regurgitation and moved him in the nick of time) he settled in to being excited about meal times and even choosing what he wants for dinner...but that's a story for another day.
'Til then, rest assured that Zapp clearly believes that he rules the apartment now. Long live King Zapp, King of the Idiot Cats.
The first day that Zapp moved in we decided to give him as easy a transition as possible. His old owner brought him over and hung out for a while, giving him a chance to suss out his new surroundings while still having the safety net of his old mommy hanging around.
At first everything went really well. He sniffed around the living room, exploring under chairs, eying the cords by the television as if contemplating how to be able to chew on them later without getting yelled at, and climbing up onto the back of the couch to look out our large picture window. He then got even braver and left the room with me and his old mommy to explore the kitchen and the back bedrooms with a confident little swagger in his step.
His old mommy sat and chatted with me, giving me last minute information about vets and shots he's gotten, etc... and then gave him a treat of his favourite sushi (because she knew he wouldn't be getting that from me anytime soon). Zapp was extremely interested in the sushi when my friend was eating hers, putting his front paws in her lap and sniffing curiously, eying it with a longing gaze. As soon as his sushi was placed in his bowl and put on the floor for him, however, he immediately lost interest. Apparently his sushi tasted much better when it was being fed to him straight from his old mommy's fingertips and he thought he was being sneaky and/or special.
After the special treat that he didn't end up eating much of, his old mommy said goodbye to him, attempting to wrangle him into snuggling even though he was much more interested in exploring and squirmed to get out of her arms. He clearly did not grasp the idea that his old mommy was not going to be around to snuggle him whenever was convenient for him anymore.
Anyway, his old mommy left and I decided it would be best to give him more space and time to explore, let him get accustomed to his surroundings. I didn't want to crowd him or make him paranoid. I wanted to be a good new mommy.
At first, I felt quite good about myself. I had clearly made the right choice. He continued to explore the house, sniffing at things he'd already sniffed at, but that were apparently so interesting and new that they needed to be sniffed again. He even rubbed past my legs a little bit as I attempted to watch him stealthily, not wanting him to know how excited I was to finally have a cat.
My hubby was at work, but was due home soon when I realised that Zapp had not returned from one of his explorations of the apartment.
I started to worry.
Within another half an hour, hubby was home and there was still no sign of Zapp.
I got up from my place on the couch and began to wander around as nonchalantly and quietly as I could, not wanting to scare him if he was merely wandering around one of the back rooms. A quick glance around showed no Zapp. I started to worry. Not too hard, you understand, because he definitely hadn't slipped past hubby when he came home, so I knew he was somewhere in the house, but I had that sinking "uh-oh" feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Zapp?" I called out hesitantly. There was no response. No "meow" met my ears. No glimpse of orange fur was caught out of the corner of my eye. No four legged friend popped his head out to say hi to me. "Zapp?" I called a little louder. Still nothing.
Hubby and I began to look around a little harder. We checked 'his' bedroom first (which is also the office/guest bedroom) where we had set up his litter box, his food and water, and the toys that we'd excitedly gone out and bought for him the week before. He wasn't under the guest bed. He wasn't behind the guest bed. He wasn't in the closet. He wasn't under hubby's desk. In fact, after a thorough search, we decided that he was nowhere in the room.
We checked the bathroom (behind the toilet, though we were hoping he wasn't there) and the kitchen (under the table and in the cabinet carelessly left open), calling his name all the while, sounding more frantic by the second (which probably wasn't helping our cause). No Zapp.
We checked our bedroom under the bed.
No Zapp.
We looked in the closet.
No Zapp.
Finally hubby had the idea to check under the dresser which is behind the boxes we have yet to unpack from when we moved in. Due to its location, it is the dustiest, dirtiest place in the house. I don't have access to clean it. I was hoping that a cat would have enough sense and dignity not to hide there. Under the bed would have been bad enough with the occasional lurking dust bunny. Cat's are supposed to be clean animals, right?
Hubby pulled out his flashlight and shone it under the dresser, and sure enough two glowing cat eyes were staring back at us.
I tried to be positive that our cat was now in the dirtiest place in the house and probably going to develop a sneezing disorder from all the dust under there. At least he'd found somewhere that he could be safe. We attempted to lure him out with treats, but to no avail, so we decided that if we just left him be for an hour or so he'd realise he was safe and emerge to join us in the living room.
No such luck.
We opened his can of food hoping that it would entice him out.
He merely changed from hiding under the dresser to hiding under the bed.
We set the food in the office instead of the living room, hoping that under the guise of more privacy he'd feel secure enough to eat and not starve to death.
He stayed under the bed.
I felt for sure that when we finally went to sleep and climbed into bed above his head that the idea of his new giant "tormentors" being just above him combined with the groaning and squeaking of the bed whenever we rolled over would drive him out from under us so that he could at least explore the house at night without worrying about us and hopefully he'd eat some of his food.
I awoke the next morning to find him still cowering under the bed.
As day two progressed and he only poked his head out from under our bed once or twice, I began to grow increasingly concerned about his prolonged mental and physical health. Maybe he'd never get over his fear of us. Maybe he'd never feel comfortable walking around our house. Maybe he'd simply cower under our bed or our dresser endlessly while he wasted away to nothing, too scared to come out to eat.
Waking up day three to find some nervous cat puke on my rug (rather than the copious amounts of ugly, scratched, grey linoleum tiles that are easy to clean, because we couldn't have had that happen, obviously) only confirmed my worries. He'd also only eaten about a fourth of the fresh food we'd put out for him the night before (throwing away the untouched, but by then dry to the point of being inedible food he hadn't eaten the first night).
(Poor, sad, uneaten, rejected cat food)
I thought about calling his old mommy who hadn't left the country yet, but I didn't want her to think that we were horrible people who were torturing her cat and that he wouldn't be in good hands when she had to leave in a day or two.
Hubby and I started to attempt to bribe him into liking us. We got more toys. We got him a wider variety of food. We'd dangle toys under the bed in the hopes that he'd want to play. We started offering him treats more often than we should have.
I don't know if it was the bribery or that Zapp simply decided that we weren't horrifying giants who wanted to eat him, but around the afternoon of day four, Zapp emerged to rub against my leg as I sat on the couch and attempted to restrain myself from shouting excitedly and scooping him up into a hug, thereby startling him back into hiding.
I ignored him as best I could, peering over my computer at him when he wasn't looking as he once again began to explore his new surroundings. I felt relief start to flood through me as he hopped up into the new cushy cat bed we'd bought him. Apparently he'd decided that I, at least, was okay.
He did return to hiding when hubby came home, but by the end of week one he'd decided he was okay too.
Now, of course, he's sometimes so demanding for attention that I have to close the door to the bedroom so that he doesn't decide he wants to jump up onto my back every five minutes during the night and come see what fun is being had without him (none unless you count hubby snoring and me grumbling about being woken up enough to push Zapp off the bed), which of course results in him scratching and meowing to be let into the parties he's apparently convinced we're having at four in the morning without him.
I was clearly silly to have worried, as he now occasionally stalks both of us to such extreme extents that he trips us up and we end up accidentally kicking him as he tries to walk under our feet.
He also is in no danger of starving to death, and after a few more puke sessions (all of them on the rug rather than the easy to clean linoleum except for the one where I caught him mid regurgitation and moved him in the nick of time) he settled in to being excited about meal times and even choosing what he wants for dinner...but that's a story for another day.
'Til then, rest assured that Zapp clearly believes that he rules the apartment now. Long live King Zapp, King of the Idiot Cats.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)