Templeton – Page 4

Weasels

As I mentioned in my previous post, this year I’ve seen three long-tailed weasels (Mustela frenata) after never having seen them before. However they weren’t my first introduction to the weasel family itself, the mustelids. I had a similar experience last year with mink (Mustela vison), I saw three after never having seen them before — unfortunately I haven’t seen them since, I hope I have better luck with the weasels.

And of course I once had daily contact with the gray-tailed weasel (Mustela templeton), the sort of weasel who would act like he wanted to play, then when you got up to follow him, double back and steal your chair. And still look up at you with the purest innocence. That is a weasel.

While the gray-tailed weasel has sadly gone extinct, scientists are studying a mammal that some believe is a new species, the orange-tailed weasel (Mustela sam). The scientific community wants to wait for more data before final classification as a weasel, but two young scientists note that he will push you aside and steal your food, and with manners like that there’s really no reason to wait.

However, another scientist argues that the gray-tailed and orange-tailed weasels are likely one species, the little weasel (Mustela minimus). Or, since the orange creature seems to eat anything that even remotely resembles food if you leave it unguarded for a few seconds, that perhaps it is not a weasel at all but an unusually cute species of goat (Oreamnos terribulus).

Homage

When I saw Sam sleeping in the heated bed with his ears sticking up over the top, it reminded me of a picture of Templeton in a similar pose and I couldn’t resist paying tribute.

I Don’t Think He’s Right But …

Sometimes I think I take just a few too many pictures of my cats, but this glyph in the Rinconada Canyon at Petroglyph National Monument makes me think a kindred spirit once roamed these hills. Templeton thought it might be an image made of him, but I thought no since he was far too young. He said in human years yes but in cat years no. I don’t think that’s how it works, but on the other hand …

How Did They Know?

I’ve been thinking a lot about Templeton lately and missing the way he would curl up on my lap and purr himself to sleep.

After I got home two nights ago, Scout climbed up on me when I sat down and curled up for a nap. Last night Sam climbed up first and then Scout came up, they were purring and rubbing all over each other before settling down.

And then tonight, Sam’s curled up in my lap as I type this.

God bless my kittens.

A Familiar Sight

Sam and Emma have been with us long enough that their personalities are really starting to come out. It’s been fun to get to know them and see them blossom as they truly understand that they have found a home for the rest of their lives. All three cats are getting along well and in the mornings they’re usually all snuggled into bed with us. And even though I’ve been glad to see them develop their own distinct personalities, I have been amused that they each share a trait or two with our dear departed Templeton.

Emma has mellowed out a bit, she used to follow us underfoot every time we went up and down the stairs, which was good exercise for her, but I’m glad she’s comfortable enough now that she can see us leave the room and be OK with that. She won’t let me go to the bathroom without opening the door and coming in, but Templeton used to do that too. He didn’t push the door quite so wide open though, he at least left with me a shred of dignity.

Emma’s not the best groomer, something we suspected when we first brought her home. She does OK with the parts of her body she can lick directly, but the top of her head and back of her neck don’t get quite so clean. Scout is a fastidious groomer (almost too much so), but she won’t groom anyone else. Little Sam, though, appears to share another one of Templeton’s traits, in that not only is he a good groomer, but he’ll help you out too. He loves to lick your hand if he thinks it needs a cleaning, and I’ve seen him give Emma a little help too.

Today though he wasn’t bashful about it, he grabbed her head with both front paws and went to work. It all went well until he got a little rambunctious with the sleepy Emma. Emma had been sleeping in an Amazon box, one of Templeton’s favorite places to sleep. She’s been sleeping there a lot lately and doesn’t seem to mind the gray fur that lines the edges of the box from Templeton’s many hours in there, I just can’t bring myself to clean it out.

As far as greeting me at the door the way Templeton did, Emma comes the closest as she often sleeps near the door around the time I come home. I don’t know if she’s doing it on purpose or if she just likes sleeping there, but she’s usually at the door by the time I get it open. Sam follows Scout’s approach and usually comes running in from wherever he’s been sleeping.

It’s at those moments, though, that I wished God had blessed me with three arms to pet the three cats who come running up to welcome me home.

A Drinking Problem

Templeton had a drinking problem. Not that he’d get loaded up on hooch while scatting about town, more that he didn’t drink as much water as he should.

He didn’t like wet food, so encouraging him to drink more water was the only way to keep him properly hydrated. We tried several approaches, starting with a drinking fountain that kept the water circulated and aerated, but he wasn’t too impressed. We started keeping a water bowl on each floor and that certainly helped.

There were two approaches that worked really well once I realized that Templeton liked to drink water from just about anywhere but where he thought he was supposed to, and that he liked really fresh water. One was to fill his water bowl and hold it out for him near the sink, he’d hop up away from Scout’s affections and drink heartily. Sometimes instead of a bowl, I’d cup my hands in the sink and he’d drink quickly before the water seeped through my fingers.

My master stroke, however, was getting him to drink during his supervised outdoor visits. I brought out a bowl of water with me but he’d drink the water I left out for the birds in an old flower pot base. After fruitless efforts to get him to drink out of his water bowl, I cleaned out a flower pot base and started filling it with fresh water. He was aware of the ruse but willing to live with it.

The Last Temptation of Templeton

I have a Virginia Tech hoodie that I bought as a freshman and had for all the years Templeton was with us. Templeton loved that sweatshirt — specifically he loved chewing on the drawstring that tightens the hood. Every single time I wore the sweatshirt and picked him up, he’d start lunging for the string. A few years ago after a washing, the string fell out and was lost. Even so, every single time I picked up Templeton wearing that sweatshirt he’d start lunging after the string that wasn’t there.

My wife recently found the beloved maroon string, and since it was Sam’s first day out in the house, I wanted to see if he’d enjoy playing with it. It was an immediate favorite of both Sam and Emma, and somewhere up in heaven, I’m sure Templeton is looking down and smiling, and lunging for that string.

Dreams

I had the nicest dream last night, which is certainly not the norm.

It was a sunny afternoon, and Templeton and Scout and I were all playing in the backyard, just like we did every summer afternoon. It was one of those dreams that just goes on and on, nothing but the three of us playing. When it was time to go in, I went to the door and called the cats. They came running to me, and as Templeton ran up to me he vanished before my eyes.

Gone but not forgotten.

Today’s picture comes from this summer, I had taken them outside after work like always. It was getting late in the evening but still plenty of light so not time to go inside. Scout was sitting in front of one of the rose bushes when a scrub jay landed on the roof, causing her to look up.

One Week

It was a week ago that we first realized something was wrong with Templeton and rushed him to the vet. We picked up his ashes this morning. On the way out the door, I was reminded of the Monty Python skit in which the undertaker tells a young man that they can cremate his dead mother and “then you get a box of ashes, which you can pretend are hers.”

The little tin we picked up (which was surprisingly heavy) has a sticker on the bottom that says the ashes are from a certified private cremation for Templeton, but I have my doubts. As we drove home, no ethereal howls emanated from the tin.

None.

Templeton hated riding in the car. Sometimes before we were married, I’d bring Templeton up to my apartment to visit for a week. When we left my wife’s apartment, he’d already be meowing at full strength. He’d keep it up during the half hour drive, somehow getting louder on the way, so that by the time we pulled into my parking lot the car windows were rattling and passers by were giving me dirty looks.

So you’ll forgive me for thinking that even death couldn’t silence Templeton during a car ride.

On the plus side, Scout has been doing as well as I could hope. She’s clearly bothered by his absence and staying closer to us than normal, but towards the end of the week she’s increasingly been sleeping in her old places. She’s eating and playing and sleeping with us at night. Today’s picture was taken Thursday night while she was curled up in the cat bed beside my desk.

We’ve been talking about the right time to add another cat or two to the household. I’m ready but it’s hard to say about Scout — I think she’ll be happiest with other cats, based on how much she loved having Templeton around, but I don’t want her to think we’re trying to replace him. She has her yearly exam on Monday so we’ll see what the vet thinks.

The upcoming holidays would be a good time since we’d be home as they got used to each other, but we’ll see.

A Gentle Soul

If you were one of the vets who looked after Templeton during his life, “gentle” is not the first word that would come to mind when describing him. Or the second word. Or the third. Or the tenth. Or the … well, you get the idea. He hated going to the vet. It was nothing personal, we had some great ones here in Portland and in Salem, but his personality changed completely and he got very stressed and hostile.

Legends were written. Tales were told.

“My name is Templeton, cat of cats:
Look on my paws, ye mighty, and despair!”

Even at home, he wasn’t too crazy about strangers, particularly young ones. He could run away to a safe spot at home, though, and he certainly mellowed out later in life and would even come up and greet some of our visitors. But with my wife and I, Templeton was gentle and loving, he loved to curl up on our laps and purr like mad. Even so, we weren’t quite sure what he’d make of Scout when we first brought her home in May of 2001, as he had been the only cat for much of his life.

We needn’t have worried.

He didn’t like to cuddle up with Scout, but he did play with her at times, he groomed her, and he just flat out put up with her when she had lots of kitten energy but not lots of kitten sense.

This isn’t the greatest picture, it was taken with a little compact camera, but it illustrates how good he was with her. She had been with us less than two months at this point, and would sometimes spring onto his back like she was a rodeo rider, and then start biting on his head. At this stage, he’d let her get away with it and let her work out her energy. Eventually he started giving her a gentle little wap to the head when she played too rough, training her on how to get along with others, and she came around and stopped the head biting and learned to play nice.

He never lost his love for play, even right up to the end. He lost some muscle mass in his last year or so and certainly couldn’t jump as high as he used to, but he and Scout would still chase each other around the back yard during their supervised outdoor time, and even at fifteen years old he was so fast that he could easily keep up with Scout.

We should all age so well. We should all live so well.