With a quick turn of a knob, water gushes from the faucet and a streak of orange emerges from the other side of the house. At first, the orange tabby peers inside - two paws kept firmly on dry ground. His head darts from side to side, watching the tub fill with warm water and white fluffs of bubbles. It takes awhile, but eventually he realizes exactly what is happening, and revels in the curiosity he has with this weekly ritual.
Jito (pronounced heat-o) is somewhat of an anomaly of a cat. His best friend is a Chesapeake Bay Retriever who shares her dog food dish with the entitled feline. He goes crazy trying to get the cranberry muffins I eat, but leaves the steak defrosting on the counter. He knows where I hide his treats, but lacks the hunting skills to find them after they’re tossed underneath his nose. And then there is this ritual that he is always too excited to take part in: bath time.
It began when he was only a month or two old, sometime the summer before last. Although I prefer faster showers in the summer, after a stressful day at work, I decided to relax with a bath. At his young age, Jito was still following me around from the time I got home from work to the time I left the next morning. And so it happened that I had a small orange shadow as I collected my book, towel and robe and headed to the bathroom. He followed me in, and I decided to accept this crazy concept without shooing him to the other side of the door.
Trying to defend my cat’s quirky sense of adventure, I googled “cats AND water.” At first, I discovered several reasons for keeping your cat well hydrated (renal failure, urinary tract infections, etc.). After getting past the advertisements for kitty water fountains (which is now on my list for the next trip to the pet store), I realized that there is a silent web-based movement stirring. To those dog owners out there - and anybody else who fails to idolize the feline fur-balls - you probably care more not to know. For those of us with nothing better to do than discuss, debate and educate ourselves on our stubborn, arrogant and exceptional clean friends, this is amazing. Apparently, cats hating water is a myth!
The aversion is easily explained with their origin. Evidence of domesticating the creatures we know now as housecats goes back as early as 9,500 years ago. The ancestors of the smaller Felis catus domesticus existed in a desert world, where there was little to no water. They were able to stay hydrated with the liquid they found in their prey. Eventually, ancient farmers realized their value as predators to the vermin in their grain bins, and the small felines became domesticated. With their genetic disposition to life in the desert, the domestic cat was not attracted to water in ways that other domesticated animals (such as dogs) were, and are. This lack of attraction, combined with their ability to groom themselves with their saliva rather than water has created an image in our minds of a species that not only does not care for water, but hates it. Their wild cousins, however, are not only known to be avid swimmers, but keen fishers too. Genetic disposition, therefore, is not justification for their hatred of the wetter life.
During the first bath, Jito was overly curious. He peered into the tub, watching the bubbles form and the water rise. Trying to get a better look, he jumped onto the edge of the ceramic tub and sniffed the water cautiously. He treaded softly along the edge, inspecting the new terrain as he paced. I extended a handful of bubbles towards him; he sniffed. One bubble went inside his nostril and he sneezed, losing his balance. His front left foot slipped down the slanted inner edge of the tub and was suddenly in the water. In an instant, Jito became the Roadrunner, his feet circling in a frenzy, trying to get away from this newest sensation: wet!
One of the bloggers I came across chastises those who use spray bottles for discipline. These people, in the website’s slant, further the myth of cats hating water. “Why do cats hate water?” asks The Why? Files. “Because we teach them to,” is the first and only response to the question. It makes a good point. Spraying a cat with water is a good form of deterring him or her from performing bad deeds, such as jumping on the counter, or climbing the Christmas tree. The latter was the only behaviour I tried to deter Jito from with the use of a water bottle. That was five months after the first bath. So why did he run terrified, away from the new sensation?
After several more baths with the proud orange tabby, I’ve decided that he is not too keen on the water aspect of my bath. The first bath was, to be expected, a new and unusual experience for the young kitten. He had had no need for water other than the water dish before. So I understand why he was more confused than anything else over my need to soak in this large watering dish. A few months later - after stumbling over the tap on his way to inspect the other edge of the tub - he was even more perplexed.
“Why don’t you,” his glares at me said, “like myself, use this substance for hydration and your saliva to clean the hair only found on top of your large head?”
Of course, there are always the minutes of fun to be had with the pink little fish, found beneath the water’s surface at the opposite end of the tub from my face; but he quickly tires of trying to catch them. Then he will jump from his ledge and find a warm spot on the bath mat, only two feet away. There he will curl into a large ball - slightly sprawled out, in case I care to drag a wet hand across his back - simply enjoying our time together. It may only last thirty minutes, but for him that’s quality bonding time. Uninterrupted, we relax together: me with my book, him with his human. Who would dare to call that strange?
Monday, 8 November 2010
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
Jito's Arrival
“Diva, no!” The brown paws reached out to the mass of orange fur, as the Chesapeake Bay Retriever whined with excitement. “Diva, careful!” She extended her nose to the ground, her nostrils working out the scent. She continued to whine as she met the newest member of her extended family – cousin Jito.
He arrived the week we were rebuilding the fence. It was quite the ordeal in our household of three sisters. My oldest sister, the homeowner, had a nine-year-old cat who did not like sharing his home with anybody but cat lovers (my other sister was not adored by him and vice versa). My other older sister had an eighteen-month old Chesapeake Bay Retriever – the Diva in question.
My cousin and her husband, home renovators themselves, came into the city that weekend to help, bringing the new addition of a kitten with them. My cousin and I had been messaging each other for the last three weeks about a batch of kittens their farm cat had just delivered. I told her my preference was for a lively kitten. She recommended the orange tabby since it was the only one attacking the mother while the other two tried to nurse. This trait haunts me now that Jito is an adult cat who likes to fight, but it came in handy when he lived with Diva. Their early stages of friendship required Jito to defend himself quite a lot.
I’ve always been an animal lover. Growing up, there was always a cat in the barn and a dog under foot. During university, though, I was unable to afford both an animal and an apartment that would allow pets. So, moving into my sister’s house, I embraced my new-found freedom to have a pet once again. The only hurdle was choosing what to have.
There was a time last winter when I looked at getting a pot-bellied pig. Sadly, there is a by-law in Edmonton against living with feral livestock. Who knew?!? Also, there was the issue of the pig being a prey to the existing predators in the house. According to my research, grown pigs will squeal when chased by a predator, such as a cat or dog. I was pretty sure that if claws would not stop Diva from chasing a cat, scared squeals would only annoy the two-legged creatures of the house.
So, next I thought about a ferret. As long as my other sister was a roommate, though, I was pretty sure her prejudice against their stench would drive a wrench in our relationship that would never be repaired.
After years of dog training in high school, I contemplated a dog right away, but knew that I could not yet afford to have a large pet to support just yet. But, I knew that one day, I would have a dog under foot. That’s the life I look to lead.
My kitten came free from my cousin, which was the best option I could ever hope for. Most cats from farms are free to a good home, and I have nothing against farm cats. Especially when they are free. The current living conditions were also fantastic because I knew that one day I would want a dog as well. So, living with Diva, who only wanted to be the cat’s friend, I hoped my cat would grow up to be a dog’s best friend.
We were never concerned about Diva’s aggression in regards to Jito. The other four-legged creature in the house prior to Jito’s arrival was a white furball of stress: Cosmo. Cosmo's adjustment to living with a dog had involved many bloody puppy noses. And then, of course, there were the occasional pile of surprise that Cosmo left to remind us that he did not appreciate sharing his house with a dog, thank you very much!
Diva’s first home was an even larger zoo than our present one. At two months old, she moved into a household of three cats, three ferrets and another dog. Diva became used to cats that were used to dogs, and being her playmates. I hoped this sense of play would come in handy with the introduction of Jito into the house. As a younger cat, we were hoping he might be able to entertain Diva enough to avoid the cat-dog fights that were currently taking place.
The fence came with perfect timing, especially as we all knew that the 18-month-old Retriever currently living in the house would be too excited to stay in the house when the new kitten was on the loose. For the three to four months, I would let her outside to enjoy the warmer weather of summer before I went to my bedroom to let out the small kitten that needed to adjust to the house under human supervision.
As Jito grew bigger, he resembled less and less of a fluffy ball, and Diva no longer wanted him thrown across the room in a game of fetch. In fact, their early play involved much more of Jito's investigating Diva than the other way around. When he became brave enough (although bravery was rarely a problem in Jito's kittendom), Jito would venture onto the arm of the couch, right above Diva's head in order to smell her. Diva's eyes would cross and her chest would begin to shake in anticipation. She listened to our warnings, though, and wouldn't dare to offend the little orange fluffball. Even as Jito stepped out onto her forehead, Diva stayed calm and let the kitten get to know her.
Sometimes I think this made Diva meeker, but overall I think it helped both of them out. Sadly, my plan of introducing Jito into my life when there was already a dog in an attempt to make him compatible with dogs has failed. The next dog he met made his hair stand on end more than anything had ever done before. He hasn't met more animals since then, so who knows what will happen when I get my next pet! All I know is that it will be a dog.
It's been almost a year and a half since Jito entered my life, and he's still friends with Diva. Many things have changed in our lives since his arrival, but one thing still remains - he still tolerates Diva! Currently, Diva is visitting us in our new home - an apartment in central Edmonton - so I thought it only fitting for the beginning of their friendship to be the first post. After her visit I'll expand on the life Jito and I live without her, but i may continue with their adventure for the next few posts...
He arrived the week we were rebuilding the fence. It was quite the ordeal in our household of three sisters. My oldest sister, the homeowner, had a nine-year-old cat who did not like sharing his home with anybody but cat lovers (my other sister was not adored by him and vice versa). My other older sister had an eighteen-month old Chesapeake Bay Retriever – the Diva in question.
My cousin and her husband, home renovators themselves, came into the city that weekend to help, bringing the new addition of a kitten with them. My cousin and I had been messaging each other for the last three weeks about a batch of kittens their farm cat had just delivered. I told her my preference was for a lively kitten. She recommended the orange tabby since it was the only one attacking the mother while the other two tried to nurse. This trait haunts me now that Jito is an adult cat who likes to fight, but it came in handy when he lived with Diva. Their early stages of friendship required Jito to defend himself quite a lot.
I’ve always been an animal lover. Growing up, there was always a cat in the barn and a dog under foot. During university, though, I was unable to afford both an animal and an apartment that would allow pets. So, moving into my sister’s house, I embraced my new-found freedom to have a pet once again. The only hurdle was choosing what to have.
There was a time last winter when I looked at getting a pot-bellied pig. Sadly, there is a by-law in Edmonton against living with feral livestock. Who knew?!? Also, there was the issue of the pig being a prey to the existing predators in the house. According to my research, grown pigs will squeal when chased by a predator, such as a cat or dog. I was pretty sure that if claws would not stop Diva from chasing a cat, scared squeals would only annoy the two-legged creatures of the house.
So, next I thought about a ferret. As long as my other sister was a roommate, though, I was pretty sure her prejudice against their stench would drive a wrench in our relationship that would never be repaired.
After years of dog training in high school, I contemplated a dog right away, but knew that I could not yet afford to have a large pet to support just yet. But, I knew that one day, I would have a dog under foot. That’s the life I look to lead.
My kitten came free from my cousin, which was the best option I could ever hope for. Most cats from farms are free to a good home, and I have nothing against farm cats. Especially when they are free. The current living conditions were also fantastic because I knew that one day I would want a dog as well. So, living with Diva, who only wanted to be the cat’s friend, I hoped my cat would grow up to be a dog’s best friend.
We were never concerned about Diva’s aggression in regards to Jito. The other four-legged creature in the house prior to Jito’s arrival was a white furball of stress: Cosmo. Cosmo's adjustment to living with a dog had involved many bloody puppy noses. And then, of course, there were the occasional pile of surprise that Cosmo left to remind us that he did not appreciate sharing his house with a dog, thank you very much!
Diva’s first home was an even larger zoo than our present one. At two months old, she moved into a household of three cats, three ferrets and another dog. Diva became used to cats that were used to dogs, and being her playmates. I hoped this sense of play would come in handy with the introduction of Jito into the house. As a younger cat, we were hoping he might be able to entertain Diva enough to avoid the cat-dog fights that were currently taking place.
The fence came with perfect timing, especially as we all knew that the 18-month-old Retriever currently living in the house would be too excited to stay in the house when the new kitten was on the loose. For the three to four months, I would let her outside to enjoy the warmer weather of summer before I went to my bedroom to let out the small kitten that needed to adjust to the house under human supervision.
As Jito grew bigger, he resembled less and less of a fluffy ball, and Diva no longer wanted him thrown across the room in a game of fetch. In fact, their early play involved much more of Jito's investigating Diva than the other way around. When he became brave enough (although bravery was rarely a problem in Jito's kittendom), Jito would venture onto the arm of the couch, right above Diva's head in order to smell her. Diva's eyes would cross and her chest would begin to shake in anticipation. She listened to our warnings, though, and wouldn't dare to offend the little orange fluffball. Even as Jito stepped out onto her forehead, Diva stayed calm and let the kitten get to know her.
Sometimes I think this made Diva meeker, but overall I think it helped both of them out. Sadly, my plan of introducing Jito into my life when there was already a dog in an attempt to make him compatible with dogs has failed. The next dog he met made his hair stand on end more than anything had ever done before. He hasn't met more animals since then, so who knows what will happen when I get my next pet! All I know is that it will be a dog.
It's been almost a year and a half since Jito entered my life, and he's still friends with Diva. Many things have changed in our lives since his arrival, but one thing still remains - he still tolerates Diva! Currently, Diva is visitting us in our new home - an apartment in central Edmonton - so I thought it only fitting for the beginning of their friendship to be the first post. After her visit I'll expand on the life Jito and I live without her, but i may continue with their adventure for the next few posts...
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