Living with Deaf Cats

Varjak Paw* was one of our foster cats. He was a kitten while he was here, and we had his mom, sister, aunts, uncle, and grandmother as well. His mother and sister, like him, are white with blue eyes, but being female, did not develop the deafness associated with that color combination (link goes to excellent article about cat genetics). Varjak, however, is deaf, and that makes him a bit more challenging to live with.

While he was here, he was a kitten, and he was no more a handful than any other kitten of the same age. We had to be careful not to step on him while he was sleeping, since he couldn't hear us coming, and he did scream his fool head off at the spay/neuter clinic (the vet said he drove them all NUTS--he woke up from the anesthesia almost immediately), but he was small and stumbly and still learning about his world.

Last week, my friend asked me to catsit for him for a little while, and she brought me this huge white cat that couldn't possibly be Varjak! He looks just like his beautiful mother, Cyrene (formerly Snowflake, adopted by my friends Catt and Ken), but he's got that big, strong male cat body. He's also got a new name, Max. Max was stressed out by the new surroundings, and by the fact that there were over a dozen unfamiliar cats all around him. So there has been a lot of yowling and hissing coming from him. For their part, my own cats are all saying, "Meh, so what, another cat."

One of the things about having a deaf cat is that they can be VERY LOUD. They don't have any feedback to tell them they are being loud, so they make their sounds without knowing they're being obnoxious. Having to pick Max up and remove him from, say, the counter, the refrigerator, and other situations, I realized that I might have to go tell my neighbor that no, we are not torturing cats here. The blood-curdling shrieks are very much like the ones we've gotten out of feral or abused cats. He isn't THAT mad, but he has no idea he's being that loud.

Another thing about him is that, when he IS being a troublemaker, I have to physically remove him from the situation. Almost all of my cats respond to verbal commands, which is very useful when I'm not feeling well. Max is usually visually focused on the trouble he's causing, so the only thing we can do is make physical contact to get his attention.

And he does like to get into stuff. Most cats would knock stuff over, and then scare themselves off with the crashing sounds. Max is currently pawing at a spoon that is next to a glass object, and making a racket; I don't think any of my cats could stand the noise he is making, and would quit because of it. So he just keeps doing noisy things because it doesn't affect him. He's also more easily bored because he needs more visual and tactile input than a hearing cat, so he seems to go looking for stuff to do.

Having him here has been an educational experience, and while he has been a handful, he is also a very loving, snuggly boy who is a pleasure to cuddle. I hope that as our limited time with him goes on, I will understand his needs better, and be better able to serve a future deaf cat's needs.

* Named for the title character of the books by S. F. Said. His sister was Sally Bones, and his aunt (who passed away) and uncle of the same age were Holly and Jalal, all characters from the Varjak Paw books. Varjak's mom renamed him Max, but Sally's adopter kept the name and actually got interested in the books!

Stretch's story

Friday night, I got a phone call from K, who lives a block away. She LOVES cats, but is almost dangerously allergic to them. She has done a lot of TNR (trap/neuter/release) for the neighborhood ferals, and she has feeding stations in her back yard that allow her to monitor them and see who is coming and going. If a cat is missing around here, she's the first person to call. She knows the long time residents, both owned and stray.

She had a new one coming to her house, but he refused food. We're still not sure why he was there, since he wouldn't eat, but she found that he was willing to drink cream or milk, so she gave him a dish of that morning and evening. She was able to coax him into letting her pet him, but she wasn't sure how he'd react to being picked up. When she did reach down to pet him, he would stretch his neck up to rub against her hand, so she called him Stretch.

Friday morning, Stretch had a seizure on K's back porch.

She called another local rescuer to ask her opinion, and it was determined that the cat at the very least needed to be captured and examined. It was suggested that he be euthanized immediately, but K would have been a long time in forgiving herself if she had done that without at least knowing for sure that there were no other options; she would have been wondering and agonizing, worrying that she made the wrong choice. She needed to know for sure.

The biggest obstacle to start with was that she needed to get him into a crate, but she didn't know how badly he'd react, and she can't get scratched or bitten without it requiring a doctor appointment afterward. So she called me to see if Brian was "brave enough" to snag the cat and stuff him in the crate. I told her that I'm actually very good at doing that without getting bitten or scratched, so I went over on Saturday morning to do that. I had K meet me at the front door to hand me his dish of cream, and I crept around back to meet him and give it to him. He was happy to slurp it up--he was very hungry. Stretch allowed me to gently pet him, and when he was done with his treat, I quickly but calmly scruffed him firmly and got him into the carrier. He was pissed, but not nasty.

I went back home, and K made some phone calls to see if she could get him a vet appointment. I told her that if she was able to do that, I could house him overnight so he wouldn't have to stay out in the cold (it was chilly this weekend!), and to spare her allergies. She was able to get the appointment, and brought him over a little later.

He stayed on our front porch, which is enclosed; this is where we keep potentially questionable fosters in quarantine (no other fosters are kept there--tested/healthy ones go into our foster room). I let him out of the carrier, and he walked around, looking out windows and examining his surroundings. He seemed to find them acceptable. I also brought him some milk, since he was unwilling to touch real food.

Throughout the day, I went to pet him and talk to him while he was on the back of the love seat, and he didn't mind. I was able to gently lift his upper lip to look at his teeth, and they were really bad. From the tartar buildup and gum pigmentation, my amateur estimate was that he was at least 9 years old. I didn't open his mouth to see if he had sores, because I wanted to be gentle with him. I just let him have some milk to get something into his tummy, and let him enjoy his stay at Casa Rio. He did get a gentle brushing, because he had some stuff stuck to his fur on top, probably gunk from the bottoms of cars. I think he liked getting brushed, and liked the feeling of being cleaner afterwards.

On Sunday morning, I scooped him up, put him into a pet carrier, and said goodbye. I was pretty sure that the vet's assessment would not be a happy surprise, so I was prepared to not see him again. K picked him up and took him to the clinic (she has to put a sheet over the cage and drive with the windows open because of her allergies), and then we both had to wait. It was the spay/neuter clinic at the shelter; Dr. J is absolutely amazing at diagnosing and surgery, so the shelter got super lucky that they were able to hire her. She had 24 cats to spay or neuter that day, so it was about 3:30 before she was able to talk to K about Stretch's condition.

The diagnosis was end-stage FIV, with concurrent infections that included sores inside his mouth. His teeth were in terrible shape; if he were to have any quality of life, he would need twelve of them pulled out at the very least. She felt that the recovery from his infections and dental care would not be easy or even guaranteed, and that he would probably suffer quite a bit before (and if) he was well enough to have a good life. B, the Robin's Nest volunteer who works the spay/neuter clinic, said she would adopt him and pay his vet bills herself if it would give him a good life, but Dr. J was very compassionate and clear on the fact that it probably would not.

Stretch was euthanized at 4pm on May 17.

I don't know how he knew to go to K's house for help, but he did. He didn't go for the food, because he couldn't eat it. But he seemed relieved to be in the care of humans who could do right by him. He was beautiful and sweet, and I wish his life had been better, but it wasn't.

Stretch's life and death could have been made much kinder if whoever owned him in the past had done one simple thing: Had him NEUTERED. A neutered male cat, even if he is outdoors, is far less likely to contract FIV because they aren't engaging in tomcat fights; FIV, like HIV, is relatively fragile, and requires special circumstances to transmit, usually blood contact. Your cat won't get FIV from hugging, sitting on a couch with, using the same doorknob as, or sharing a toilet seat with a cat with FIV. Your cat CAN get FIV through sharing needles, having unprotected sex, and fighting with FIV-infected cats. While the needle sharing is wholly dependent upon humans being careful to use fresh syringes for each injection on a cat (cats don't become heroin addicts on their own or vaccinate themselves, you know), the latter two are pretty easily curtailed by removing the organs responsible for driving those behaviors: The testicles. One very minor operation, and Stretch would have preferred long walks on the beach to Feline Fight Club or wild cat orgies. He also might have been kept indoors, since neutered males smell less pungent, and don't tend to hose down the walls with pheromones.

Please...neuter your cats. Neuter other cats, too. Neuter your neighborhood strays, and offer to get your mom's cat, your friend's cat, and your worst enemy's cat neutered. The cats won't miss those two bits of tissue, and they will live longer, healthier lives. If you run up against some weirdo who projects his own testicular hangups onto his cat's furry little privates, show him Stretch's pictures, and tell him that Stretch would rather have been healthy and neutered than have a mouth full of rotten teeth and sores, starving to death, and who knows what else pains and miseries that he could not give voice to (and we could not begin to guess). To believe otherwise would be nuts.

Here are photos of our dear one, who was with us for but one day...Stretch was a polydactyl cat, meaning he had extra toes, one on each foot, just like our Ptera. Ptera and Stretch both had the same foot structure; one extra on each front paw, making them look like they had "thumbs", and one extra on each rear foot, halfway up the foot so it looked like a dewclaw.

Thoughts on animal behavior research

Quite a while ago, there was an animal behavior researcher from Africa who was considered by her peers to be a top primate expert. Her name was Mira, and her research and experiences were remarkable. This is probably the first time you'll ever read about them.

Like another researcher or two we all know, Mira immersed herself in the population of her subjects so she could see how their social structures worked, among other things. She was completely surprised by a number of things that happened when she did so.

The first thing that happened was that a female, whom Mira named "Mimi", immediately became attached to Mira. Mira observed that Mimi's behavior toward her was almost the same as the way Mimi would treat her own offspring. She used sounds that would normally be used to speak to neonates and small juveniles, and limited her superior physical strength when dealing with Mira such that Mira was not harmed by interactions with Mimi. Mimi was not substituting for an offspring she did not have, as she was at the time raising up at least two juvenile offspring of differing ages in addition to a neonate. As much as animal behaviorists are not supposed to attribute thoughts or feelings to their subjects, Mira could not help but feel that Mimi loved her very much.

Some might criticize Mira's subsequent deviations from standards of objectivity, but many argue that what arose from her research and emotional attachment justified it. Mira began to return Mimi's affections; she could not help but respond emotionally to Mimi, and she felt that Mimi's behavior toward her was driven by emotions as well. She honestly could not find another explanation for Mimi's behavior, because she was careful (at first, at least) not to give her subjects any kind of reward for their interaction with her. She remembered previous researchers that were much like her who offered their subjects rewards, and found that it changed the entire population's ecology and behavior, coloring all future interactions with those populations so that objective research would never again be possible.

Mira carefully noted some of the most amazing observations, especially those regarding communication. Mimi and her family members quickly learned appropriate responses to different phrases of Mira's language--if she said, "Watch out!" they looked in the same direction as Mira for danger. If she said, "I'm hungry", they would actually bring her some food--even though she was an expert at foraging for herself in their habitat! It seemed that they learned what she meant when she said she was going off to find food, and because they wanted her to stay nearby, they would often supply her with food. She observed that they seemed to perk up and behave in a "happy" way if she was willing to take tidbits of food from them; they didn't show an interest, however, when she attempted to respond in kind, and even took offense at times. Mira opined that the one-way sharing of food was a bonding ritual designed to show that they were the dominant ones, and to keep her close by.

Eventually, Mimi and some of her offspring even attempted to imitate the sounds Mira made! They would occasionally use the language in appropriate fashion, but as far as Mira could tell, anytime they said an appropriate phrase for a circumstance, it was mere coincidence. She noted that the subjects had radically different skull and mouth structures, so she was not even sure that the sounds they made among themselves were necessarily anything more than nonsense babble; she could usually work out what they were trying to communicate by interpreting tone and body language. Even so, they seemed to have a pretty close imitation and appropriate situational use of her invectives, while they seemed incapable of using more friendly language because of anatomical differences.

While many behaviorists will deny that an animal can experience thought and emotion, and will insist that behavior such as Mimi's are wholly the result of operant conditioning (they would claim that Mira WAS rewarding them, either subconsciously, or doing so purposely and lying about it). Mira, however, would insist that, once immersed in the "culture" of these animals, one would understand her rapport with them was not based on machine-like operant conditioning, but upon emotions expressed and perceived across a species barrier.

Of course, this is all ancient history; Mira's work with her primate subjects resulted in a symbiotic relationship that, while rocky at times, has spanned the globe for thousands of years, affecting the genetic makeup of both species such that both species lead healthier, more rewarding lives when paired together. For our part, we have learned a lot more of their language, even though we still haven't developed the ability to purr properly. But maybe someday.

The Invisible Crutch

The Invisible Knapsack of White Privilege, conceived by Peggy McIntosh, discusses the many things a white person takes for granted, in list form. As a white person, many of these things were uncomfortable to read, but I also saw reflected in them the things that men, wealthy people, and non-disabled people take for granted.

I've decided to build an invisible crutch from things that constitute abled privilege, without repeating too much of what is in McIntosh's list (so read her list, and substitute "disability" for "color" for many of those things).

1. I can, if I wish, arrange to attend social events without worrying if they are accessible to me.

2. If I am in the company of people that make me uncomfortable, I can easily choose to move elsewhere.

3. I can easily find housing that is accessible to me, with no barriers to my mobility.

4. I can go shopping alone most of the time and be able to reach and obtain all of the items without assistance, know that cashiers will notice I am there, and can easily see and use the credit card machines.

5. I can turn on the television and see people of my ability level widely and accurately represented.

6. I can be pretty sure of my voice being heard in a group where I am the only person of my ability level represented--and they will make eye contact with me.

7. I can advocate for my children in their schools without my ability level being blamed for my children's performance or behavior.

8. I can do well in a challenging situation without being told what an inspiration I am.

9. If I ask to speak to someone "in charge", I can be relatively assured that the person will make eye contact with me and not treat me like I am stupid.

10. I can belong to an organization and not feel that others resent my membership because of my ability level.

11. I do not have to fear being preyed upon because of my ability level.

12. I can be reasonably assured that I won't be late for meetings due to mobility barriers.

13. I can use most cosmetics and personal care products without worrying that they will cause a painful or dangerous reaction.

14. I can usually go about in public without other people's personal care products causing me painful or dangerous reactions.

15. My neighborhood allows me to move about on sidewalks, into stores, and into friends' homes without difficulty.

16. People do not tell me that my ability level means I should not have children.

17. I can be reasonably sure that I will be able to make it to a regular job every day.

18. I know that my income can increase based on my performance, and I can seek new and better employment if I choose; I do not have to face a court battle to get an increase in my income.

19. My daily routine does not have to be carefully planned to accommodate medication or therapy schedules.

20. I can share my life with an animal companion without my ability to care for them being called into question due to my financial and ability situations.

21. If I am not feeling well, and decide to stay in bed, I will likely be believed and not told that I am lazy and worthless.

I am sure there are more that I haven't thought of. Do keep in mind that I've tried NOT to copy Ms. McIntosh's work, because there's no need--most of what she says definitely applies to this list as well.

A short one

Ill people are not obligated to be brave, cheerful, or optimistic for the sake of preserving the feelings of well people.

Fat Positive book

A friend of mine has edited a fat-positive anthology of stories about fat men. You can order it here. It is available either as a download or as a paper copy.

A brief conversation

My friend: Why is it that ANY time an actress/celebrity gains a tiny bit of weight everyone thinks she's pregnant?

Me: Because that's the only socially acceptable excuse for gaining weight.

My friend: Oy.