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Isn't it great, that you can change a kitten's name, so that it fits its bearer?
Gjumbir was yesterday. Today I've upgraded him to Rambo, and Rambo he shall remain, Amen.
So, yesterday after Pilates, I changed the litter in his toilet, which I'd power-cleaned before, and scrubbed the floor and sent a prayer to the Deity for Feline Affairs. Then I took a deep breath and opened the door of the ex-guest-bedroom, now kitten nursery.
All three Critters were waiting outside -- Cornelius and Lola at both sides of the door, Lucius the Big Wuss a bit further away, conveniently close to the scratching post. Kitteh was in full yaayyyy!playyyy! mode, and so I kept playing with him, while furtively watching the Trio.
Cornelius, looming in the doorway, was observing with Asian impassivity; Lola was watching with big, rounded eyes, head on folded fore paws. In the heat of chasing the toy mouse kitteh came rather close to Cornelius and did what all cats do when confronted with something big and scary: hackles raised and tail bristling (OMG so sweet like a bottle brush!!), he hissed. Cornelius glared. Kitteh crab-walked, stiff-legged and fluffily bristling, a little further towards big scary Cornelius. Cornelius retreated slightly and hissed.
Never, ever in the ten-plus years I've had him, have I heard Cornelius hiss. Never.
Those who know about cats do, of course, know that hissing isn't an aggressive but a defensive reaction.
Lola simply ran, Lucius followed suit.
This morning, same scenario; only today, Cornelius was a bit bolder and actually entered the room. Kitty did the usual hackles-raised-tail-bristling-legs-stiff act, and Cornelius bolted. The huge, 6,5kg, alpha boy actually ran!
This is how Rambo became Rambo.
Funny as it was, it's also a little unsatisfactory -- the last thing I need is a big red cat boy who thinks he's Alexander the Great and Boadicea's love child. So I called my vet in Vienna (again). She gave me good advice, which I'm going to put into practice tonight and during the weekend: take a soft piece of cloth and rub the kitten's cheeks with it. Then rub all three cats' cheeks with it. Do the same the other way round, with a different piece of cloth for each member of the Trio. So they'll become better acquainted with one another's scent, without having to make close, hiss-and-run contact.
Rambo continues to be in excellent health and eats a lot. He also likes the goat milk, which is good. Kitten bottle will arrive with today's diplomatic mail (bless you, Janine!).
Having this baby in the house is a lot of work -- not only do I have to dedicate sufficient amounts of time to Rambo, I also have to make sure the Trio don't get jealous. My morning routine has been thoroughly destroyed. This notwithstanding, I'm enjoying myself hugely. It's amazing how fast such a tiny kitten thingy develops: on Tuesday, when he'd climbed onto the guest bed, he was whining loudly because he couldn't get down. Today, he jumps up almost all the way up (the last two inches he has to climb up the bedspread) and jumps back down as if it was nothing. Also, cuddly-time is... well, the heart melts. Will melt even more once I can bottle-feed him, I guess...
Gjumbir was yesterday. Today I've upgraded him to Rambo, and Rambo he shall remain, Amen.
So, yesterday after Pilates, I changed the litter in his toilet, which I'd power-cleaned before, and scrubbed the floor and sent a prayer to the Deity for Feline Affairs. Then I took a deep breath and opened the door of the ex-guest-bedroom, now kitten nursery.
All three Critters were waiting outside -- Cornelius and Lola at both sides of the door, Lucius the Big Wuss a bit further away, conveniently close to the scratching post. Kitteh was in full yaayyyy!playyyy! mode, and so I kept playing with him, while furtively watching the Trio.
Cornelius, looming in the doorway, was observing with Asian impassivity; Lola was watching with big, rounded eyes, head on folded fore paws. In the heat of chasing the toy mouse kitteh came rather close to Cornelius and did what all cats do when confronted with something big and scary: hackles raised and tail bristling (OMG so sweet like a bottle brush!!), he hissed. Cornelius glared. Kitteh crab-walked, stiff-legged and fluffily bristling, a little further towards big scary Cornelius. Cornelius retreated slightly and hissed.
Never, ever in the ten-plus years I've had him, have I heard Cornelius hiss. Never.
Those who know about cats do, of course, know that hissing isn't an aggressive but a defensive reaction.
Lola simply ran, Lucius followed suit.
This morning, same scenario; only today, Cornelius was a bit bolder and actually entered the room. Kitty did the usual hackles-raised-tail-bristling-legs-stiff act, and Cornelius bolted. The huge, 6,5kg, alpha boy actually ran!
This is how Rambo became Rambo.
Funny as it was, it's also a little unsatisfactory -- the last thing I need is a big red cat boy who thinks he's Alexander the Great and Boadicea's love child. So I called my vet in Vienna (again). She gave me good advice, which I'm going to put into practice tonight and during the weekend: take a soft piece of cloth and rub the kitten's cheeks with it. Then rub all three cats' cheeks with it. Do the same the other way round, with a different piece of cloth for each member of the Trio. So they'll become better acquainted with one another's scent, without having to make close, hiss-and-run contact.
Rambo continues to be in excellent health and eats a lot. He also likes the goat milk, which is good. Kitten bottle will arrive with today's diplomatic mail (bless you, Janine!).
Having this baby in the house is a lot of work -- not only do I have to dedicate sufficient amounts of time to Rambo, I also have to make sure the Trio don't get jealous. My morning routine has been thoroughly destroyed. This notwithstanding, I'm enjoying myself hugely. It's amazing how fast such a tiny kitten thingy develops: on Tuesday, when he'd climbed onto the guest bed, he was whining loudly because he couldn't get down. Today, he jumps up almost all the way up (the last two inches he has to climb up the bedspread) and jumps back down as if it was nothing. Also, cuddly-time is... well, the heart melts. Will melt even more once I can bottle-feed him, I guess...
