We know we’re full and that things are getting tricky when there are several nights in the week where we lay awake at 2am trying to work out how things can fit together …… and are still awake at 5am but without any clear solutions. Holding down a full time job, running a home, and organising 18 cats is tricky. It’s more tricky when currently 10 of those cats need sorting out with primary course of vaccinations, 2 of them need to be neutered (requiring a day of arriving late at work and leaving early), and 3 of them need microchipping. Thirteen of them need rehoming, requiring home checks, people coming to visit and ultimately cats need to be taken to their new homes. All the time new requests to take cats and kittens are coming in.

If things had gone to plan / expectations many of our cats wouldn’t be with us:

Take poor Domino for example: we were clear that we simply couldn’t take in any more adults and then we had a phone call from the vets to see if we could take in a pregnant cat. It was getting cold outside and we’re very fond of our vets, so we caved in and agreed. When the finders finally got her to the vets they discovered it wasn’t a pregnancy but a bloated tum from eating goodness knows what whilst she was a stray. At that stage we couldn’t say no and put her back on the street. So here she is:

And she’s gorgeous … but struggling in the cold conservatory as it was the only place to put her. Hence her huge fur hat. We’ve advertised her everywhere hoping someone will recognise her and claim her – but so far the only response we’ve had is from someone who told us that she’d been straying in the centre of town for a while, hanging our around the markets to beg for food. So she’s now getting herself sorted ready for finding a new home.

Then there’s Tilly and her kits. We responded to a plea to take an adult and a 12 week old kit into rescue. We said we’d take the kit but at the time didn’t have space for an adult. Someone else was going to take the adult but somehow we ended up with both, and then Tilly turned out to be pregnant again ….. and had 6 kittens! So that’s 7 more cats we didn’t plan for.

We’re glad now that we didn’t say “no” because they’re gorgeous ….. all of them.

Then last weekend, full to bursting and we had a desperate plea to take another couple of adults who were about to end up homeless. For a while it seemed like we had found them a space in another rescue – but somehow they’re here with us. Saying “no” days before bonfire night just didn’t seem an option though we know many poor souls will have been out there through it. So the Fs bunked up with the Ts and the adults have the Fs bedroom.

They’re sweet boys but quite confused about why their lives have suddenly changed.

It’s chaos of course but then we get photos back from kits in their new homes and it all seems worthwhile. Lovely Bosca is getting …. I was going to say “her feet under the table” in her new home – but it’s more like “over the table”

Our timid little Floyd has given us regular excited updates about settling into his new home and making friends with his new step brothers and sisters. His confidence has clearly come on in leaps and bounds:

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Next week’s challenge is to work out how to juggle them around so that our long-suffering joiner can lay laminate in both of the main rescue cat rooms without: a) mixing the separated groups of cats, b) allowing un neutered tom cats into our bedroom (as it upsets the residents), c) letting any of the non-residents outdoors d) losing anyone e) anyone getting stood on and f) allowing Jango anywhere near the joiner (as he squared up to him last time he came and cornered him in the bathroom).

It’s been an exciting and scary week for Floyd. He started off being full of himself that he’d bagged a home with the human that he liked … but as time has gone on, its begun to look a bit scary. Leaving his little cousins and starting out in his new home isn’t going to be easy for such a nervous young man. It’s such a good job that he’s got a kind and understanding new human to take care of him.

The hurdle of going to the vets for his second vaccination is over, he was calm and brave throughout, though we saw him holding Fern’s hand some of the time.

This evening has been his leaving do. Perhaps laying on a “Drugs and Dreamies” party wasn’t that well advised. He’s not normally been used to doing drugs … and the cat nip high blew him away a bit

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Inevitably it started to get a bit out of hand

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In the end Tilly had to step in ….

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As she explained, it wasn’t just that the older kits were drunk and disorderly, it was that they were encouraging her little ones to get high on it too …….. and at less than 8 weeks old she felt this just wasn’t acceptable

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Let’s start at the beginning of last week. We’d had lots of requests to take cats in, and sadly had had to say no to them. Just too full with all the little Fs and Ts, and of course Bosca. Monday afternoon I had a serious talk with myself, after yet another request to take in a young man who was desperate to get in out of the cold. The only thing that was going to make us let anyone else in was if it was a pregnant cat, and even then. only if she was local (trying to remember we were set up for S8 cats) or had some other connection to us. Twenty minutes later there was a phone call from our vets – someone had found a pregnant cat in Sheffield city centre, RSPCA and Cat Protection had said “no” … could we help? Gulp …. she fitted both the connection criteria (our vets are wonderful and we’d do anything to help) ….. and she was pregnant. So we set up our bedroom as a maternity unit, moved our bedding downstairs and prepared to sleep on the floor until the as yet unborn kits had had their vaccinations and were ready to go to their new homes.

Arrived at the vets to collect puss …. to the news that once she’d arrived with them the ‘pregnancy’ had been diagnosed as ‘wind’ … with a prognosis (as she gently deflated in the consulting room) of a severe bout of diarrhea later in the day. Um …. we’d only agreed to take her because she was supposedly pregnant, but somehow just couldn’t say “no” to the sad little face poking out the top of her cardboard box. It felt a little like she’d stuffed a cushion up her jumper to get to the top of the housing queue .. but seriously …. would you just put her back out on the street?

We’re not being mean – but giving up our bedroom to a pregnant lady is one thing …. giving it up to a cat forecast to have a serious gut explosion in the next 24 hours is something else. The maternity suite was collapsed and temporary quarters established in the conservatory. ‘Windy’ settled in gratefully …. ate plain fish for a few days and slowly decompressed. She’s a sweet purry cat, who doesn’t seem to like the residents very much when they’ve seen each other. Then again, the residents are a funny lot and a bit of an acquired taste. We’ve advertised her as “found” and searched the “lost” adverts … but nothing has come up. She can’t stay here much longer as “lost” … so later next week will start the process of health checks, vaccinations, contraception and chipping.

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The good news last weekend is that Bosca, who has been with us since May, went to her new home. We didn’t try too hard with rehoming her over the summer because everyone was happy being out in the garden in the sunshine. However once the lovely weather ended and the nights started to draw in, the cracks in the relationship between Bosca and the residents started to appear. We had a few enquiries about her, but then the perfect home came up for her, and Bossy is now settling down to enjoy the rest of her life.

And here”s our second surprise. A lovely young woman came this weekend to meet Fuzzie – from the adverts he looked like he was just the right young man to fit into her family. We had little concern – he’s a confident young man who could easily charm almost any visitor into adopting him. When she arrived Fuzzie was snuggled in a bed with Floyd. All seemed well. We started talking to them and playing, expecting Fuzz to run to join in, and Floyd to run away. The strangest thing happened. Fuzzie went and hid in a cardboard box, whilst Floyd (the timid lad whom we have to chase around the room to be able to stroke) was clearly transfixed. He ran up to her, licking her arm, enjoying her strokes, and even let her rub the Floydy tum. [We’ve never been allowed to touch the Floydy tum!] Freddie and Fern played around as normal but Fuzz took himself out of the picture.

Floyd excelled himself in charming her, and has won himself a home. He’s chuffed to bits and not only wants to announce it .. he wants to shout it from the rooftops

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Discussions afterwards with them suggested that Fuzz had also really liked the lady, but he was aware that his timid cousin would find it hard to find someone he felt comfortable with. So when Floyd said that he liked her, Fuzzie tactfully hid himself away so that Floyd had a chance to woo her. Good boy Fuzzie, such a sweet thing to do. And congratulations to Floyd!

The little Fs are growing nicely now. All vaccinated and micro chipped, and Flossie spayed. Flossie and Fudge took the big step of moving to their new home last weekend and are settling down nicely. Little Floyd whom we were worried about because he was so tiny when he arrived with us is growing into a size-able healthy young man. He was chuffed today when he went to be chipped because the lady said he looked like he was going to be a really big cat when he grew up. To be honest, we were pretty chuffed too – a few weeks ago it seemed impossible that he would be a big cat, and pretty unlikely he’d live to grow up. But now look at him – what a handsome young fellow too:

Floyd

Meanwhile Freddie has been experimenting with taking selfies:

The T tribe are 6 weeks old tomorrow, something which seems unbelievable to Tilly who feels like they’ve been around for at least 6 months ! Poor puss, two litters of kittens in such close succession, and 6 of them this time! She’s looking forward to chatting to the vet about her contraceptive options next week, and then starting to look to make a life of her own. She thinks, and I’m inclined to agree with her, that 6 is just too many. When they come to feed now, all put together they’re well bigger than her, and are obviously starting to be uncomfortable and a nuisance:

Difficult to say whether its better or worse when they’re not feeding. When they’re all off doing their own thing, you need more than just eyes in the back of your head. I was with her the other night when Tess was starting to learn to run up the curtains, Tug was meowing for attention on the litter tray, Toby was squealing under the door to the F team, another kitten was crying because he was ‘lost’ at the back of the desk and the remaining two were squabbling and trying to push each other into the water bowl. Neither of us could quite work out who to attend to first.

They’ve been a very mixed little group. A couple of kittens had their heads in the food dish when they were less than 4 weeks old, it was over a week before any of the others showed any interest, and only in the last day or two at nearly 6 weeks old has the last one started to take any notice of the food bowls. Table manners leave a lot to be desired. Have a look at these pics taken last weekend and see if you can identify the ones who have started on solids 🙂

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It was our official first anniversary last week. Rather like the queen we have two dates to celebrate – we kind of unofficially started in April 2013, gradually establishing ourselves as an independent rescue. However it was 23 September 2013 when we had our first official meeting, agreed our constitution and 8 Lives was formally born. So last weekend saw our AGM. It was a good meeting, with plenty of refreshments, the sound of kittens clattering in the bedroom overhead, and plenty to celebrate. Sooty grumbled bitterly about being asked to move off the table while we had the meeting … so of course he had his own way and stayed put:

Just in the year since September 2013 we’ve taken in 28 cats. The vision of focusing in our own postcode area hasn’t really worked out. We’ve had a few from S8, and tend to give priority to local cats, however, fate and other connections have intervened and we’ve taken in cats mainly from Sheffield and Chesterfield, a few from Rotherham and Doncaster, and (special cases for very special cats) Leo from Birmingham and Bosca from Leeds.

Bosca

Leo

Four of the cats we’ve taken in have been pregnant females – with two of them we knew they were pregnant before coming into rescue, the other two broke the news of their pregnancies a little while after they arrived. One of them arrived with what we think might have been the daddy cat in tow … they were certainly in love, and to some extent shared the parenting. Between them they’ve had 20 kittens born here. For three of them that’s been a complete delight … mums and kittens all fine. Tilly’s kittens are still only tiny, but the other little families have all gone off to their new homes: everyone vaccinated and chipped, adults neutered (and confirmation from adoptive parents that kittens now neutered if theyr’re old enough). Chi’s story is still painful to tell even thought it was back in February. It broke our hearts and our bank account and if ever there was a good case to get your female cat spayed this has to be it A beautiful sweet mummy died and so did 3 of her 5 kittens.

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We’ve taken 37 cats and kittens to their new homes, several of them in pairs, a few as single cats. It’s amazing and wonderful how many lovely people there are out there who are looking to share their homes with awkward bits of fur. It’s been a delight to get to know them as they visit to get to know their adoptive felines, and to stay in touch and hear how the little ones have settled and made themselves part of their new families. There are some seriously lucky kitties out there 🙂    Hard to choose our favourite photos but here are a few of them in their new homes:

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It’s tricky to add up, but we estimate that we’ve done about 48 vet runs in the year (excluding our permanent resident’s appointments) sometimes with just one cat, but often with two three four … and maximum 9 at one point for vaccinations. We’re fortunate that not only do Vets4Pets offer us ‘frequent flyer’ rates, they don’t charge us rent for use of their waiting room, despite it feeling like we live there a lot of the time.

So apart from Bosca who seems to be getting her paws well and truly under the table, the house was empty of rescue cats over the holiday. My lovely friend Kath had had taken care of Tilly while I was away, and been there for her when she had her little ones. She was there for me when I arrived back jet lagged and hysterical about Sooty’s disappearance, and hung on to Tilly and family for me until the following weekend when I was sorted out and ready to take them home. So they arrived back here a couple of weeks ago, aged just 7 days old.

freshly unpacked

one week old

The plan had been to take Tilly and family back but not take any others in for a while, so things would be a bit more relaxed for a few weeks. However a rescue friend posted asking for urgent home for mum and three kits and the following day we were off to collect them. When I first saw mum I thought she was one of the kittens, she’s little bigger than Pippin who went to her new home before the holiday. It’s a bit complicated so I’ll spare you the details, but we ended up coming home with mum, her three kittens and their older two cousins.

It didn’t take long to discover they were full of worms and fleas. Complete sweethearts none the less. The littlest ones were happy to lie on their backs on my lap whilst I bathed eyes and picked fleas off their tummies. They love to be on laps and climb up the minute I sit down. Mum was a little more wary but once settled is a complete love, so gentle, such a baby herself.

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The cousins were a little more timid, and more of a concern as one of them was half the size of the other.

Little Floyd, as we called him, sat quite listless in the carrier while the others charged around. Thankfully when they were tired they kept him company.

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We took him to the vets the next day. Only 500g at 12 weeks old, but nothing obvious we could find to be wrong with him. He came home with convalescent food full of good stuff and we set about handfeeding him 3 times a day. Yesterday (so 11 days after the first vet visit) we went back to the vet with him – still very quiet but 910g! An ongoing mystery and concern as to what is going on with him. Educated guesses range between just not feeding well when younger and then not coping with fleas and worms on top of it, to some congenital illness which would be difficult to treat. This evening we went in to feed them, and took Floyd off for his exclusive (pouches cost more than £1 each!) meal

He ate a little, not a huge amount. The usual pattern is that when taken back to their room he scuttles off to hide and sleep again. However this evening it was different. He got into a basket, but then when the other kittens were playing, started to get interested and eventually joined in. He didn’t take part in the mad game of tearing up and downstairs that the others were absorbed in, but look at this …. seen playing for the first time

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He got very excited – running around, tapping things, chattering to himself, like he was suddenly trying all the things he’d thought of trying, but didn’t feel quite up to it before. Go for it Floyd … be well little kitten ……. please …. x

Unfortunately its now Sooty’s turn to be “home and away”. After the relief of Moggy Maid finding him at the end of the holiday, it emerged that there is a more ongoing issue. He was missing again the following day, but was found again round on the next street … and carefully carried home. Lots of anxiety about whether old age was encroaching and he was becoming confused and easily lost. He was grounded for a few days.

The very next day that he was allowed out he was missing again, and found more or less in the same place. However this time, rather than being on the street he was in a front garden .. and this time the discovery was observed. A retired lady … lets call her “Dora” to save the embarrassment of identifying her … came out of the house and informed us that Sooty had been hanging out round her house for about two weeks, singing up to her at her bedroom window (poor woman … the voice of a deaf cat is tuneless to say the least) and she’d been concerned that he was a stray. However he had then disappeared for a few days (yeah … grounded!) and she’d hoped he’d found his way home. Whilst explaining that she didn’t have a cat of her own, the last one had sadly died some time ago, a group of felines assembled around her feet. It seems these are the latch key kits of our neighbouring street. Whilst their humans are out earning money for pouches, these guys gather and are seduced by tins of evaporated milk. She assured me though that she’d not fed Sooty, and we walked slowly home.

It was the weekend and Soots was missing again. I bumped into Dora on my way to find him … she confided that she’d given Mr Tabby some evap milk, she hadn’t fed Sooty, but thought he might be finishing off what Mr Tabs left. She was off out but I was welcome to go round to the back of her house if needs be to find Sooty. It’s not great being deaf. I walked round the side of the house, clocked an empty bowl with a rim of evaporated milk around it, and an elderly black and deaf cat sitting by it cleaning his whiskers. All very contented. His face when he turned and saw me was priceless .. but sadly not captured on camera.

This infidelity is manageable on a weekend. It’s easy to allow an hour or so, and then nip over to collect a besotted black cat. Not so easy in the week. Each day its been a dilemma of whether to lock the cat flap and confine everyone to barracks, or let everyone out. Majority vote has meant that mostly its been an open flap regime. So each evening this week we’ve collected Sooty from Dora’s front garden. Initially this was done by arriving home, realizing Soot was absent, and walking round to the next street to find him. It’s not far if you’re able to push through hedges, but if you have to walk round on the road its a bit of a trek, particularly if its raining or you’re late home from work. So, the last few nights we’ve dropped by in the car on the way home to collect him.

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It’s not the end of the world, we know where he is, and he’s fine. However, milk is not good for cats and tends to upset their tummies. Evaporated milk appears to be even worse. If we lock the cat flap, 6 cats who are used to being about to use the outside toilet have to start using the lit trays. If one those cats has a lactose intolerance and gets an upset tum, the other 5 complain strongly (and understandably) about hygiene and their concern about where they can safely put their feet if they go into the tray “for convenience”.

So frazzled from lack of sleep, jammed in the dreaded middle bank of seats with the person infront reclined, we finally landed in Manchester a week ago today. Switched on phone to grab the airport free wifi and was greeted with the news that Tilly had had just had her babies. The thought of giving birth to 6 babies kind of puts an uncomfortable flight into perspective.

It’s a little cliched I know, but despite all the beauty of China, the Snake Pass under blue sky and sunshine with heather in full bloom ……….. wow! However the focus was on getting home to my precious Sooty. I don’t have favourites amongst the residents, however my old deaf lad is the most clingy and present of them, so it seems natural that his presence is missed the most whilst I’m away. Pulled onto the drive to be greeted by Bosca (the usual lookout), and then Honey, Jango, and shy Amber. Rushed into the house to find Sooty but no sign of him. Dashed round the house again, and again, and then more slowly looking more carefully but still no Sooty. You know that awful heart sinking dread and anxiety? Yup, that’s the one.

It was 1pm. I unpacked, with half an eye hopefully on the cat flap. No sign. I made a drink, settled shattered in the chair, snuggled Honey and Jango. It was 2pm. Still no sign. I trawled round the garden, up the road, down the road, and back round the garden. Still no sign. Back round the garden and under the bushes and checked over the fences into neighbouring gardens. This is the cat who is never out more than 15 minutes at a time. Calling for him (ok I know he’s deaf, but I challenge you to search and not call) produced Flipper from the allotments but no Sooty. It was 3pm. Damn! … I’m shattered and desperate to sleep but no hope of it with missing cat. Get allotment key and trawl the allotments. No sign. It’s 4pm. Surely if I just try and chill and go and have a bath he’ll be back before I’m finished. It’s 5pm … I’m clean but utterly frantic. I text Moggy Maid : She’s taken brilliant care of them whilst I’ve been away – just as she did last year – I’m certain of this. She tells me that Sooty has been present for every meal whilst I’ve been away, but was absent this morning. However as she turned into the next road on her way home, Soots was there sunbathing in the middle of the road! I die a thousand deaths, despite her telling me she stopped the car and moved him to the the kerb. It’s 6pm, I’m using a stick and torch to search through overgrown verges in case he’s been hit by a car and knocked into the side of the road – in between sobbing hysterically and vowing never to go on holiday again. It’s getting on towards 7pm and Moggy Maid phones me, despite my assurances that I’m not holding her responsible for his disappearance, and my warning that I’m not fit to be seen, she tells me that she’s coming over to help me search for him. It’s going dark but I go off again with torch in search of him, armed with dish of sardines hoping the smell will be heard where my frantic cries won’t.

Moggy Maid and partner arrive, usher me into the house (hysterical menopausal cat woman), take up the torch and sardines and set off in search of him. I cling to poor Jango and sob some more. Five minutes later partner knocks on door “we think we’ve found him”. Frantic mind pictures him lying in a gutter somewhere, but scene reveals my hero Moggy Maid walking up the road with my Sootkin in her arms.

very slightly contrite & “found” Sooty

Hugely grateful to Moggy Maid ….. I paid her to look after them whilst I was away and she did a very good job of it. Her continuing care when I arrived home and was desperate that I’d lost my baby was unpaid, but so badly needed and sooooo very welcome.

So we left China and went back to my friend’s home in Singapore. Things got a bit more catty then because my friend has been without cats for a while but finally in a place where she could think about adopting. I was interested in what rescue was like in another country, so we went off to the SPCA together. The staff there were lovely and clearly cared about the animals though it was painful to see cats living in small cages, some of whom had been there for months or in a couple of cases over a year. The ones who got along well with others had a larger room to share, but new arrivals who needed to be kept separate and those who didn’t socialise well had very little space to move around in.

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Many of the issues are the same: animals not being neutered, left to stray, abandoned. In this respect Singapore could be Sheffield, but many degrees warmer.

It was interesting to be on the other side of the fence and be the ones choosing cats rather than hoping they would be chosen. And hard to not push my friend to adopt the long timers like Lucius who has been there too many months:

In the end Charm and Risen were chosen. A ‘typical’ young mum, about 18 months old who had come in with kittens and stayed on after her kits had been snapped up. And a 10 week old black kitten who had been found as a stray, on his own in the city.

Charm

Risen

They’d both quite obviously taken a shine to my friend, so it was heartbreaking to leave them, wondering if they knew they were “reserved” and we’d be back for them, or if they just felt they’d been rejected again. But we were off to go shopping for them. Perhaps its because Singapore is a very small island compared to the UK, but as with the rescue, space in the pet shop was at a premium. Forget the space in Pets at Home where you can comfortably pass others in the aisles with your trolleys. In this pet shop we had trouble just squeezing past each other! Nevertheless, a couple of hours later we emerged with a frightening number of carrier bags containing a reasonable set up package for two cats. Having lived for some years in a house who’s residents are predominantly feline and who have gradually filled the house with their stuff, so gradually that you hardly notice, it was a bit of a shock to be in the position of buying a whole set up in one go and see just how much stuff they actually need.

and this was just to get them through the weekend!

It was lovely to return to collect them the following day. I don’t think they knew what had hit them at first. Then it gradually dawned on them that they had several floors of house to chase up and down and a pair of humans who adored them already.

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Such lovely and lucky kitties.

Despite there being times in the run up to it when it felt like it could never possibly happen, we’ve been away for a couple of weeks. The odds certainly felt stacked against it with various health problems – human and feline, and then discovering Tilly was pregnant and due to give birth whilst we were away. A combination of good friends, lovely adoptive parents, and an excellent cat sitter made it possible to actually be at Manchester airport at the appointed time, more or less sane and prepared.

The bookends of the holiday: On arrival in Singapore airport a little video pinged onto my phone – Mog having a cuddle on the lap of one of new humans. Long suffering followers of the blog will know just how wonderful this was to see. On arrival back at Manchester an email to say that Tilly had had 5 kittens, all happy and healthy – though a couple of days later than we’d guesstimated. On arrival at airport carpark, a second email to say she’d had 6! not 5. She’s still in the care of a friend so no photos until the weekend – sorry.

It’s a strange feeling, having been so caught up with cats at home to suddenly not have them. Kind of double edged / bittersweet. I always say that I look forward to missing them. The break is good but its odd to not be organised by a feline committee throughout the day. It’s good to simply walk from room to room without being tripped up by furry people hoping for treats and cuddles, and wonderful to sleep in a bed in whatever position you chose without playing some nocturnal version of twister with them. However, by day two – despite the delights of travel – hands start to feel empty and some of the meaning goes out of life.

China is perhaps not the best place for a cat lover. None were sighted in Beijing. One big ginger tom lorded it over Gao’s house in Xi’an, a few cried outside the great mosque, tugging at heart strings to go rescue. It was hundreds of miles later and up a mountain in Longsheng that we finally made contact with a cat.

She’d managed to install herself in the hotel and happily approached and seduced diners into sharing their supper with her. It’s hard to imagine how far away her nearest family planning clinic was (we’d climbed a couple of hours from the nearest road) but sadly she’d not found it as yet, and I doubt her kits will find it either.

We found another young man in a small village but he was busy guarding his sign

What it would have been better to not see on leaving the Terracotta warrior site in Xi’an was a stall selling fur. Most of the cats we saw in China were white with coloured tails /ears etc. Many of the furs for sale were white with coloured tails / ears etc. We didn’t look too closely and didn’t take photos ……. but the vague image kind of lingers ….