Last time we met Venus she was settling in to domesticated life as a member of the Spring Rock menagerie. She continues to enjoy the life of a domesticated cat, but the domestication is just a thin veneer I’m afraid. I imagine there will always be a feral puss, lurking beneath the surface.
Venus is happy to while away some of her time in the house with us and chooses most nights to come inside late at night and sleep with Tristan, Ambrosia and Nefertiti in the bathroom; this is despite the fact that Nefertiti constantly puts Venus in her place by snagging whichever of the two beds she thinks Venus will prefer that night. When Venus first moved into the house, The Gang of Three (Tristan, Ambrosia and Nefertiti) wouldn’t allow her to sleep on their very spacious, faux fur covered bed in the bathroom. I made Venus a bed out of a purple furry throw and a pet mat so she had somewhere to sleep. It’s much more Spartan than the plush bed The Gang of Three share because our bathroom just isn’t large enough for another fully padded bed, but it wasn’t long before Nefertiti had decided that if Venus was happy with the purple bed it must be better than her fur bed. She soon moved in and wouldn’t let Venus on. Nefertiti will allow Ambrosia to share the purple bed if she’s in a good mood, and divides her time between the large bed and the purple bed. Tristan has risen above all this musical bed business, somewhat literally, and slept on the windowsill during the warmer weather – now that the nights are cooler he’s moved back to the fur bed and ignores anyone who tries to turf him off. Venus, ever the pragmatist, sleeps on whichever bed is vacant or shares with Ambrosia if Nefertiti and Ambrosia decide to spend the night one on each bed. Ambrosia isn’t exactly welcoming but she doesn’t actually hurl insults at Venus – Nefertiti, who looks like a sweet, gentle cat never loses an opportunity to use the worst cat language I’ve ever heard when face to face with poor Venus.
On the nights Venus decides not to come inside, no matter how many times I call her, she ends up sleeping in the laundry with the puppies. Cleo and Aslan are much more welcoming, if somewhat embarrassed about being good friends with a cat. Venus particularly loves Cleo. How this came about I’m not sure. The first time Cleo and Venus met, Venus was still mostly feral and coming into season. She lived on the front porch at this stage in a seething mass of annoyed hormones. I was out there patting her and telling her of my long-term goals to have her friendly enough to become a domesticated cat and Venus was listening quietly and soaking up the pats. Cleo came bounding around the side of the house, saw a new cat she hadn’t introduced herself to yet, and proceeded to do so. Venus took one look at the huge nose approaching her and hauled back with her right paw, claws fully extended, and told Cleo she did not like dogs and she particularly didn’t like very large, drooly dogs as she took a swipe at Cleo’s nose. Cleo backed down the steps as quickly as she could, backed down the path and around the side of the house, never taking her eyes off the new cat with the sharp paws.
I thought that would be that as far as Venus and the dogs
finding an amicable living arrangement, but after her visit to the vets’ Venus
became a much more peace-loving cat. We
soon set off on our two-week trip to Central Australia, leaving Venus living on
the front porch (complete with comfy bed and sufficient food to last a couple
of months). When we returned, Venus came
to greet us and then headed off to rub herself along Cleo’s legs. Cleo had a look of panic on her face and was
definitely trying to tell us to please, please save her! I got the idea that this wasn’t Venus’ first
efforts to befriend Cleo so left her to make amends for her previous bad
behaviour.
We struggled with Venus’ weight for months. When I say we, I of course mean I have struggled – Venus is quite happy to be a very rotund cat. Venus found free food too tempting to pass up, wherever it was and to whomever it belongs. She’d sit at the bowl of cat food and just keep eating until I removed her and closed the door to stop her returning to the bowl. She ate the dog food when she was outside, along with a variety of wildlife, despite the bell on her collar. By the end of winter, Venus’ weight had ballooned up to alarming proportions.
I can’t keep Venus inside as I do the other cats because
Venus simply refuses to use the litter tray.
She’ll go to the toilet behind a chair or some other very private spot
if I don’t let her out in time. Her
preference is the garden, but if she’s desperate, Venus will make her own
arrangements inside. Needless to say,
this makes Graeme and me super aware of when Venus asks to go outside.
Thankfully, when summer arrived, Venus put herself on a
weight reduction diet. I really wish I
knew her secret! She has gone from a
grossly overweight feline to a very svelte young lady in the matter of a few
months. When one of our cats lost weight
when I was a child, my Nana always said that the cat was eating lizards. I don’t know if this is true or not, but I do
hope Venus isn’t catching poor defenceless lizards in her quest for a better
figure. I have noticed as we move into
autumn, that Venus is now beginning to put on a bit of weight again. I have a dreadful feeling we’ll have a very
fat winter cat and a trim and terrific summer cat as the years go on.
As I wrote earlier, Venus’ domestication is just a thin
veneer. When there is just Graeme and me
at home, Venus’ behaviour is very much like the other three cats’
behaviour. She’s a bit more standoffish
than Tristan, Ambrosia and Nefertiti, but she’s happy to lie on her back with
maximum tummy exposed to the air cooler or heater depending on the
weather. She occasionally honours me by
settling in on my lap and going to sleep, but mostly she prefers to have her
personal space respected. Venus is
always happy to receive a pat or scratch behind the ear from me though, and she
adores Graeme – choosing to sit on his chair as soon as he vacates it and
looking very offended when he puts her on the floor on his return. Her feral nature comes to the fore whenever
we have visitors. If she is inside when
they arrive, she shoots out the back door as soon as she can, looking
terrified. She then doesn’t reappear
until she thinks the strangers are gone.
If she has miscalculated, and the visitors are still present Venus will
keep a very low profile under the dining table or demand to be put outside
again. I’ve tried to explain that no-one
will hurt her, but Venus just isn’t comfortable with anyone but Graeme and me.
On the one occasion she visited the vet, to be spayed, I had to stress and restress that, although Venus looked the picture of a gentle, calm cat, she was still basically a feral cat for anyone she doesn’t know. Venus sat in her carrier looking very chilled out and insisting it was all a lie. When I picked her up after her surgery, the vet nurse told me that Venus had remained a quiet, calm cat until they did something she didn’t like, like getting her out of the carrier or anything else they needed to do. Then Venus showed her feral side with a vengeance and she soon lost all the friends she’d made by looking calm and beautiful in her carrier. Thankfully, no mortal injuries were dealt, but Venus left everyone who came in contact with her in no doubt that she didn’t like them, didn’t like their surgery, and didn’t like humanity in general.
Venus continues to refuse to use the litter box, despite
being a house cat for eighteen months now.
Because she has to be put outside when she indicates she wants out, she
now blackmails us. Her favourite way of
telling us is to jump up amongst my very delicate ceramic owl collection and
wander back and forth causing the owls to make little clinking sounds. She is promptly told to, “Get down!” and does
so begrudgingly, but is confident that either Graeme or I will now open the
back door for her. With her tail in the
air, and a triumphant look on her face, Venus regally escorts us to the back
door and leaves the house.
One problem we have is that Venus is one of those cats
that firmly believe that the other side of the door is the best place to
be. She no sooner goes out than she’s
back at the door asking to come inside.
Once in it’s not long before she wants out again. Her personal record was the day she came
inside, did a U turn and went outside again before I’d even had a chance to
close the door. I feel that I spend my
days as an unpaid doorman, opening and closing it multiple times a day just to
allow one rather spoiled, ex-feral cat to come and go as she chooses. Venus is happy to believe that this is just
how it should be.
Now that the days are getting cooler, Venus is taking
full advantage of her domestication and spending more time inside. She is happy to nab Tristan’s heated bed
before our elderly gentleman can get there first. Venus settles down with her back to the room
and does her best it ignore Tristan’s affronted look. While Tristan is usually happy to share his
bed with Ambrosia or Nefertiti, Venus is built on a much larger scale and takes
up the entire bed. The fact that she
stretches out to her full length to expose as much of her as she can to the warmth,
doesn’t help at all. I intervene and put
Venus on a quilt or the furry bed at the top of their scratching post and with
a resigned sigh, Venus settles down to the second best spot in the lounge room. Tristan makes a show of hurt feelings and not
wanting to sleep on the bed now, but the warmth soon calls to his old bones and
he settles happily on the bed to sleep the day away.
The cool nights are also working on the bond between the Gang of Three and Venus. Snuggling up to the larger cat at night is much more comfortable than letting Venus have the whole fur bed to herself. Venus is more than happy to mend fences and welcome any of the Gang of Three who wants to snuggle and conserve warmth.
