Allogrooming, a social grooming behavior between members of the same species, is very common in cats. Grooming can be a sign of affection.
Or a sign of dominance.
For Callie, the species designation is not particularly important. This social grooming behavior applies to her chosen human as well.
Does she love him?
Or does she just want to outrank him?
We choose to believe it’s a sign of love.
Here she is, grooming her Daddy from her perch.
On his head.
This is not a one-time event. Given the choice, she will happily perch on his hat. Or directly on his head. It’s a little harder now than it was when she was a kitten—there’s simply more of her these days—but she still tries.
And succeeds more often than you’d expect.
The princess needs her bath
Callie also expects Dad to reciprocate this grooming arrangement.
She enjoys bath time.
Not actual baths, mind you. That would be ridiculous.
Instead, she stands on the edge of the bathroom sink and screams until Dad arrives to supervise her spa treatment.
Sometimes she waits patiently.
Sometimes she sits in the sink.
As it fills with water.
Because apparently this is normal behavior for a cat.
We’ve stopped questioning it.
At this point, we’ve accepted that Callie has her own set of rules. Dad is responsible for grooming. Callie is responsible for grooming Dad. Running water is required for proper bathing procedures.
And baseball caps are simply elevated grooming stations.
We’re not entirely sure whether she’s expressing affection or asserting authority.
It sounds like a taunt between children, and it’s what I imagine Smokey would say any time he gets the chance.
If Smokey can find an opportunity to be the tallest thing in the room, he will invariably take it.
On ladders.
On shower curtain rods.
And sometimes, on screens.
When Smokey was about a year old, he discovered that he could jump — and stick the landing — on the curtain rod above the bathtub or the metal frame of the shower doors. Once he learned this skill, there was no going back.
If you’ve never seen a cat flying toward you while you’re naked and vulnerable, well, you just haven’t lived.
Ladders are another favorite. Smokey loves climbing them and will vigorously defend his position once he reaches the top. He does not appreciate being told to get down. In fact, he considers such requests rude and beneath his station.
See those black cabinets in the background of the ladder photo?
Smokey likes to jump from the counter directly to the top of the cabinets. He doesn’t bother with intermediate steps. The refrigerator is for amateurs. His parkour skills have evolved beyond such limitations.
When we moved recently, Smokey discovered a new opportunity for vertical superiority. The small tree outside our patio attracts dozens of birds and squirrels every day. Naturally, Smokey believes he should be taller than them, too.
While he is never allowed fully outdoors, supervised patio time is one of the highlights of his day. Given the opportunity, he’ll climb the screens, stretch himself to impossible lengths, and attempt to achieve maximum altitude while maintaining visual contact with every bird in the county.
We suspect Smokey’s life philosophy is simple:
If you’re not the tallest creature in the room, are you even trying?
Over the course of 12 months, we “accidentally” acquired six cats through a series of conscious choices, Cat Distribution System designations, and deeply questionable decisions. You can read the full story of the six cats in How We Ended Up With 10 Cats: Part 1. With humans in the house outnumbered by cats, we were confident we were done.
We were wrong.
The Missing Calico
Humans: 4Cats: 8
My husband grew up with a calico cat that he adored. He mentioned multiple times throughout our cat adoption adventures that he wanted another calico. We did not find one. Cleopatra was close but wasn’t what he pictured. He accepted that we weren’t going to find a calico cat.
One fateful day before a Tampa Bay Lightning hockey game, we stopped at a local mall to do some shopping. While wandering in the mall, I happened across an adoption event for kittens. A small calico kitten was staring at me through the window. She was adorable.
So was her brother.
These two kittens were the only kittens in the shop.
Exhibiting a severe lack of judgment, I texted a picture of the kitten to my husband.
That was my downfall.
Once my husband picked her up, she curled up on his chest and started purring. As though she had found her home. At that stage, there was no doubt Callie was coming home. And if Callie was coming home, Thunder was coming too.
As I mentioned earlier, we were on our way to a game. No cats allowed.
We paid the adoption fees and arranged to pick them up the next morning.
So, we’ve officially transitioned into “Crazy Cat Lady” territory now, according to my vet. And we’ve got eight cats.
Eight.
We’re done. There is absolutely NO reason to get additional cats.
Where is Juliet?
Humans: 4Cats: 10
We held strong at eight cats. We stayed there for over a year.
We had finally achieved a fragile equilibrium.
Then, one October day in 2021, one of my daughter’s friends came over for the first time. And asked Romeo where his Juliet was.
My husband heard this.
The next thing I know, we’re all loaded into the car and heading to a pet store adoption event to look at kittens. Romeo needs a white cat named Juliet. A yin and yang kind of thing.
The first store didn’t have kittens. I took this as a sign from the universe that we should go home.
My husband took it as a sign that he should open his phone and locate more kittens.
I was driving, so I’m partially responsible. He, however, was navigating and actively seeking out events, so he has to share the responsibility.
We found a beautiful, partially white kitten. And two orange kittens. My daughter fell in love with an orange kitten. And we were doomed. Again, I can’t leave one kitten alone.
Another family at the event was interested in the white kitten, so Juliet had a potential home. But if we took one orange kitten, his brother was coming too. These kittens were named by the foster-owner as Cheddar and Colby – but the kids didn’t like the names. So Pie and Pumpkin (it was Halloween, after all), came home.
Growing up, there were always cats in my house. At least one. Sometimes more. Early in my marriage, the hubby and I had two cats. Then came kids. Years later, as the cats and kids got older, I assumed I’d eventually have more help with the litter boxes. At one point, I taped money to the handle of the cat litter scoop – in a bag, of course, because Ew! A month later, that bag was still there. At that point, I said once the cats died, we wouldn’t be getting more.
Eventually, the husband and kids wore me down, and I agreed to get a cat. So off to the shelter we went. In May, or maybe June, of 2018, we brought home not one, but two cats. Sandy and Minerva were adorable, playful kittens. The girls loved them. Everyone pitched in. We were happy. Stable. Responsible adults with two kids and two cats and no plans for more.
So naturally, the cat distribution system struck just about one year later. During a rainstorm one summer day, I went out through my garage to get something from my van, parked outside. When I opened the garage, I heard a strange sound. A quiet cry. At first, I thought one of the cats, a little over a year old now, had followed me into the garage. But they hadn’t. Instead, under my van, soaking wet and horribly skinny, was a small, reddish-brown kitten. I’d never seen this coloration on a cat before. I yelled for my kids to bring me cat treats and lured the small baby into the garage. To avoid transmission of any illness, we kept this newcomer in a dog crate in the garage overnight, planning to turn him over to the vets office in the morning.
The following day, the hubby and kids left for a camping trip. I took the “stray” to the vet. He was much older than I anticipated – at least 9 months old despite weighing in at less than three pounds. The vet couldn’t take him. The shelter was full. I’d have to find him a home or put him back outside. He tested clean for any communicable diseases, so I brought him inside. That was my mistake. Once a cat enters the house, courtesy of the CDS, there is no conceivable way to undo it. And so, Romeo joined the crew.
Romeo, despite being underweight and having an eye infection, wanted nothing more than to be loved. By anyone. cat or human. Didn’t matter. Unfortunately, Sandy and Minerva wanted no part of this newcomer. They weren’t mean to him, but they wouldn’t let him join in their cuddle puddle.
A tragic loss – FIP – Minerva
Humans: 4Cats: 2
Minerva had some strange habits. One of which was sitting on the scale. Every time she accompanied you to the bathroom. Through this habit, we noticed that she was dropping weight steadily for a few weeks and brought her to the vet. Our primary vet strongly suspected that Minerva had Feline Infectious Peritonitis – the “wet” form, which is caused by a mutation of the corona virus. In 2019, when this happened, there was no legally available treatment for this disease. There was a “black market” drug that might help – but it was thousands of dollars per dose and not guaranteed.
We sought a second opinion, hoping the diagnosis was wrong. The second vet ended up confirming the diagnosis during surgery and we decided it was better to let her pass peacefully without waking her up again and having her suffer.
As of 2024, FIP is treatable. If you know someone impacted by FIP, make sure the vet checks the Merck Veterinary Manual.
The house felt wrong afterward. Too quiet. Even Romeo seemed to notice.
Romeo’s emotional support kittens
Humans: 4Cats: 6
After the loss of Minerva, Sandy adopted the dog as her snuggle-buddy. The dog was very receptive to it. Unfortunately, this still left Romeo alone. Hubby and I talked and decided we could get another cat for Romeo to snuggle with.
At this stage, my daughters — six years apart and professional arguers — couldn’t agree on anything. I came up with what I believed to be a brilliant plan. I’d take each of the girls to the shelter separately and let them each pick out one kitten to bring home. Then Romeo would have a selection and maybe Sandy would make a friend of her own species.
My brilliant plan was a great parenting decision. It was not a great pet-acquisition decision. It was at this shelter visit that I learned that I’m incapable of bringing home only one cat at a time, even if I know that another is already planned. Cleopatra and Figaro were housed together at the shelter – and bringing home just one would have left one sad, lonely kitten in a cage. I. Can’t. Have. That.
So, I brought home two kittens.
Now reader, let me remind you: I left one child at home while doing this. One child picked out two kittens. Are you seeing my dilemma?
I had to be fair to the second child. So, back to the shelter we went. We walked in with our own cat carrier to transport the newest selection(s) home. When we got there, the shelter staff laughed and offered me a volume discount. After some time in the “cat room”, two more kittens – both variations of grey – were selected to join the chaos.
And just like that, our number of cats tripledin a single day.
