It’s now been four months since John and I adopted our timid fluffy kitty, Mocha, from a shelter. We may soon add new initials to his description: OCD!
I first wrote about him in December here, when it seemed he had a feline version of PTSD. We think he seems a tad more comfortable with us now – but still wary. He allows me to gently brush him, pet him, massage him (especially at the temples – he drools with pleasure!)… all the while I sing little songs to him, with half-invented lyrics like “Mocha loves me, this I know, for the -” Well, you get the idea, heh. “Soft kitty, warm kitty” from Big Bang Theory and Young Sheldon is also a big favourite!
We did experience a week-long blip in January when Mocha discovered the space under our bed and stayed there for days, only coming out for food and litter box when we weren’t around. But we ended that (on advice of a feline behaviourist) by keeping our bedroom door closed for some time. After many weeks, we tried leaving our door open again. But in no time, he rediscovered his under-bed spot!
The feline expert now says that if we want to leave our door open, we should block off access to that area to keep him out. 🙄 Any ideas how we can do that? 😬
He still loves the window sill and the top of his tree in “his” room (our office). I took this shot yesterday.
Strangely, Mocha never makes a sound – not even purring – or if he does purr, I can’t detect it. But his drooling is a nice substitute. 😜
The other odd thing about this kitty is, I can’t seem to engage him in play. I’ve tried my best to get his “prey drive” going (laser mouse, fishing toy) but nothing works. So I just leave his many toys scattered around the house… which brings me to my “OCD” (obsessive-compulsive disorder) designation for him. Every night before I go to bed, I put his favourite toys on top of the air conditioner, which is on the floor during the off-season (winter!) covered by a blanket. And every morning, this is the neat row that greets me on the carpet:
😂 I suppose putting things in order is comforting for him. I just find it funny!
Crossed Eyes and Dotted Tees 
For years my grandmother lived with a blue point siamese cat and spent most of the winter days in her kitchen which was tiled in red and black. Some years later she moved to an apartment. I swear that cat only stepped on the black tiles (THIS floor was black and white). Looked like a drunken, sly mess when it walked in that second kitchen. I can’t remember the cat’s name and wish I could.
Just remember, cats are geniuses in their own right. Maybe they teach us what we can’t figure out on our own. So drooling is a-ok, in the end.
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Too funny! Lolol! Oh yes, they’re smart, all right! Thanks for the laugh!
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