Feline Dementia?
Fri., July 27, 11:38 AM
If you read my old stories about the cat colony, you might remember Floppy, the distinctive calico from the third(?) litter. Floppy is about six or seven now, not very old for a cat, but a lot of things have happened to her: she produced two or three litters before the Cat Project was able to inoculate and spay her; she lost one litter to the fox; and her home base and food source got moved.
At the time Floppy was born, all the cats congregated at my garage door each morning, waiting for me to come out with food. Eventually Mrs. Neighbor-Out-Back began feeding cats — hers is home cooked! — and I backed off. I still fed the occasional grey tabby — whichever one she was — who came by to be petted.
I noticed, however, that Ms. Grey Tabby, who had already been fed out back, would come by with guests. I'd give her a dish of food, and she'd back off and let her friends eat. Floppy, of course, was never in that group. She was always skittish and, forever after the fox got her babies, she was absolutely manic.
Floppy did remember that under my front steps was a safe place to hide kittens. I even blocked up the opening, and she dug it out a couple of times. It took Son to close it beyond her powers to open it up again.
Floppy looks like an old cat now. She's well fed, like all the others that are still around, and she has become kind of chunky since the year they were all neutered. Now I'm not sure why she's acting the way she is. She would never accept food from me now, because she really doesn't have to. Naturally, when Mrs. Neighbor-Out-Back doesn't get up early enough, Floppy scolds me when I come outside for the newspaper. At least once she tried to lead me out back, as if it were my job to fill those dishes. But she will not let me come near her.
Still, she comes into my yard as if she owns the place. She sniffs at the blocked-up opening under the stairs, looking rather confused. She sleeps on my deck for hours, sometimes bringing a buddy, but more often by herself. If I walk on the lawn or under the deck, she flies out of there. (Literally — she will jump through the railings to avoid me, and that's about ten feet up.)
Maybe it's just my current mind-set, because I'm already dealing with a senior citizen who can't remember what he ate for his last meal and doesn't much care. But there are times when I would swear that Floppy is acting the same way. I just never heard of any research on feline dementia.
Well, I'll be darned; I was wrong. I just googled “feline dementia” and found this!
