Tortie Tuesday: Raindrops on Roses, Whiskers on Kittens

So I have to be online and I have to tweet about glyphosate because we only get one Saturday, one Sunday, and each Monday to a week, but before I dive into Glyphosate Awareness I should at least get time to post about what a delightful weekend it was (except for one horrible little detail). Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Clover and privet and iris and honeysuckle and daisies in bloom. Strawberries ready to eat, lots and lots of little hard green future raspberries. Swallowtail butterflies. A dapper little Desmia funeralis got into the office, as did a few of the mostly small and drab North American Geometrid moths (the ones inchworms grow up to be). In between showers of rain, enough sunshine that I finally stopped putting it off and snapped kitten pictures.

This was the only snapshot for which Serena posed. Here she and Traveller and two of the kittens are checking out some rose prunings.

As so many times before, although cats don't show color prejudice, social cats often do seem to sort themselves by color. Serena has two gray-and-white kittens and two black-and-white kittens. More than half the time, if the four of them aren't all together, that's how they're playing or napping. I suspect they color-match themselves because a pair (or larger group) of color-matched kittens may look more like a single larger animal to predators--or even to prey?

Silverheels, shown above, is the most likely to go off on its own. None of these kittens' gender seems really obvious, but I tend to think of him as the big brother to Swimmer, the little sister. (Actually size means nothing; kittens grow in spurts. The biggest kitten in the litter this week may be the smallest cat when they grow up.) Size and "hairline" are the easiest ways to tell them apart.

Swimmer's white streak extends all the way through the patch of gray on top of its head, if you look closely, forming a narrow "parting." I don't know how much swimming this kitten intends to do as an adult, but it's already done a few laps round the washtub at a brisk rate.

From above, Swimmer's back shows just a little more white than Silverheels'. When they were younger Swimmer was the friendliest, cuddliest kitten. (For a litter of frisky kittens they're all remarkably cooperative. Serena has trained them well.) Now that they spend more time with their elders, the kittens are old enough to notice that Traveller wants to be the cuddliest feline. He likes for each kitten to let itself be stroked or picked up for just a few minutes, then scamper off to play.

The black-and-white kittens' faces are almost identical. Nearly all the cats in the Patchnose Family have had patches of different colors on their noses, but these two, I think, overdo it. I can tell that this one is Felix by the black patches on its little shoulders. Felix's back is mostly black, as shown:

Though Black Stache has accepted a name that commemorates Dave Barry's vision of the young Captain Hook, it's a rather docile, slow-moving kitten, usually the last in line as they scamper out onto the porch for breakfast in the morning.

When they're not color-matching, these kittens are likely to sort themselves by preferred pace for playing. Currently, Felix and Silverheels seem just slightly faster and more aggressive than Stache and Swimmer.

First of a Disney-commissioned series that's more fun to read than the original Peter Pan and Wendy. In this series we learn that before he became Captain Hook, when he had to have a name that sounded more sinister than "James" or even "Jas," the wicked pirate answered to "Black Stache."

They don't really show a lot of individual purrsonality, yet, to me. Although they eat solid food, bury their own bodywastes, and respond to names, and although all of them are gentle, friendly, mostly obliging and very lovable kittens, they seem more like "Serena's kittens" than like individual cats--either permanent pets or temporary sojourners. Serena and Traveller seem to have been rearing them with the intention that they'll find homes of their own. They are remarkable mostly for being well disciplined. When they were sick they lined up for treatment. Now that they're old enough to have overflowed the snug little nest where they were born, yet still small enough that other animals might eat them, after dinner they cuddle up in a heap outside the door and wait to be taken in to a nice safe cage for the night. In the morning, when I open the cage door, they run out in a nice orderly line...

Serena, who is still a playful kitten herself, has taken to running in through any door that's opened, just to get attention. "Back off! Stay out!" I say. "No, I want to run in and let you take me out; that's more fun," Serena nonverbally says, sitting just inside the door. "Once is enough! Stay out," I insist, barring the doorway with a foot. "Tag! You're It!" Serena nonverbally says, slapping my foot and bouncing away. "Botheration," she nonverbally adds, "how hard do I have to slap to get you to play?"

But the kittens don't even tease me that way. That is what good kittens they are. They can tell that I don't actually enjoy that little game.

So they're available for adoption to good homes. The Cat Sanctuary never charges a fee, although the cats gratefully accept donations (cash, cat food, or gift certificates for rabies shots are welcome). Nor do we process information about cat adopters online. The catch is that we get to know adopters personally. Social cats usually remember and recognize each other for years, although happily adopted social cats nonverbally tell us they want to stay where they are.

As the kittens mature and Serena has less milk to offer them, Samantha seems to be practicing birth control by induced lactation. She didn't seem interested in this social cat custom while the kittens were little, but from the kittens' point of view, that means all the more milk is available to them now! Cool, Gran! Like those other members of the Patchnose Family from whom Samantha is not a direct descendant, she's invited the kittens to nurse while she snuggles up with me, so the whole family can snuggle and be stroked at once.

Where did she get the idea? Young kittens, of course, always check out every new friend for any possible alternative source of milk. Samantha's closest friend, Burr, grew up in a blended family of three separate litters (he was the oldest male kitten, by five and ten days). Although I literally do talk to the cats about things they can learn to understand, in some way--"Come on" and "Back off" and "Time for breakfast"--I cannot, of course, ask them whether Burr remembered or told Samantha about nursing another cat's kittens being a fairly reliable way to extend a cat's non-ovulating winter phase into summertime. Burr is more intelligent than he looks. And Samantha's continuing to prowl and cavort with him, without being slowed down by pregnancy or nursing, is obviously a clear gain from his point of view. And also Samantha, herself, is social enough to enjoy being a grandmother.

Samantha is not available for adoption. Though much calmer and easier to live with than she was as a half-grown kitten, she's still a Scaredycat who snuggles only briefly, only with a few trusted humans, and she's never seemed completely sure even about me.

Samantha grew up fast. Bigger than most spring kittens during her first winter, she's grown bigger steadily since, but now that she's two years old and has reached her full size, she's smaller than Serena.

And here's their human, literally a little old lady in blue canvas shoes. They're not tennis shoes. During the fad, about twenty years ago, this style was called "monk shoes."

It might be more in the spirit of Tortie Tuesday if I'd written this post as a cat interview, but (ahem) a certain local lurker has yet to pay for that.