Last night I woke up startled, because Monty woke up startled. He was sleeping tucked against my side, wrapped around my right arm - and when Monty is startled, he clenches everything, so. Ouch. But once he let go, he sat up and looked around, and I realized that we were both hearing a strange noise upstairs. Something was going on with one of the dogs.
I can tell the difference between them pretty easily, when they’re walking around up there; Greyson is slower and heavier in his steps, and when he lies down, he sounds like a couch falling out of a tree. Lucy is more of a “tippy-tapper,” and when she plops down to the floor it’s more of a swishing thump.
It only took me a few seconds to realize it was Lucy making all the racket, which was unusual, but not unheard of. She typically comes to bed when we do - and mostly spends the night in her favorite place: the basement bathroom, a small, windowless space with a night light and some nice cool tiles to lounge upon. But once in awhile she gets antsy for some reason, and she roams.
Sometimes she has to pee, and she heads upstairs to use the pad in my office.* When this happens, she often considers her approach, circles the room, etc. - and takes her time deciding exactly how to execute the mission. But sometimes she’s just awake and restless. Maybe a bad dream, maybe a weird noise outside, who knows.
Last night, she was just awake and restless.
After listening to her pace around for a few minutes, I got up to check on her, just to make sure everything was okay. She met me at the top of the stairs, wagging her tail anxiously. (I never did figure out what had bothered her.) Greyson was sprawled out in the hall, wagging lazily because oh, hey, Mom’s upstairs in the middle of the night, cool. I told him he was a good boy and to go back to sleep. I told Lucy that she was a good girl, gave her some love, and - while I was up there - decided to use the bathroom myself.
When I emerged from the restroom, I wished I’d brought my phone so I could’ve snapped a picture to commemorate the occasion.
For you see, Monty had followed me upstairs. He’d strolled past the dogs to sit between them, and all three were looking up at me expectantly. Side by side. No tension, no swiping, no whining or overly familiar sniffing. Just all three wondering if I was going to dole out any treats, I mean, while I was in such close proximity to the kitchen.
I scratched all three noggins, then told Monty, “Okay dude, let’s go back to bed. Lucy, you coming?” (Greyson never joins us down there; he finds the stairs difficult in his old age.) Then Lucy and Monty trailed behind me, back down to the basement. Lucy peeled off and returned to her preferred bathroom. Monty hopped back up onto the bed and settled back down. I heard Greyson do his “going back to sleep now” heavy big-dog sigh.
Today they’ve all three been 100% chill. Lucy and Monty sniffed each other’s butts without incident, Greyson allowed his toes to be cat-investigated and didn’t even hold his breath the whole time. They aren’t interspecies besties yet, but they’re definitely peaceful roommates.
Next step: FRENZ. I hope.
***
Today I did a little shopping - just picking up household stuff, mostly; but I swung by PetSmart while I was out, because Monty has been accidentally terrifying the dogs by manifesting behind them like a little ghost. He doesn’t mean to be sneaky; he’s just a cat, and even without the full component of legs, he moves very smoothly and quietly when he wants to.
(Lemme put it this way: I started calling him “Jump-Scare” after Lucy did a double-take so wild that she almost fell down the stairs.)
So to give the dogs a fighting chance, I decided to see if he’d tolerate wearing a collar and a tag - just something to add a small noise component to his presence. I picked a black one with gold polka-dots, and a little purple tag.
A fancy young lad in a black bow-tie collar with a tiny purple tag that reads simply“Monty,” even though “The Full Monty” probably would’ve fit. Alas, I didn’t think about it until after I’d had the tag engraved, oh well, missed opportunities.
The collar came with a tiny bell on it, but I don’t want THAT much noise following him around, so I pulled it off before I put it on him. He didn’t fight me at all, and it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, hooray. The dearly departed eldercat never minded a collar, either - but Quinnie would sooner jump off a cliff than wear one, so it’s been awhile since we heard that tiny jingle of a small tag tapping on a ring.
Rationally I know that should he ever escape the house and go on the lam, (a). he’s microchipped and I’ve registered the chip with our information already, and (b). I’d just ask around about “the three-legged gray tabby” and it’s not like anyone would mistake him for some other cat. But come on. Once you’ve got a fancy little bow-tie collar and a tag with your name on it, you’re Officially a Full Member of the Household.
It means you’re home.
So welcome home Hot Mess Monty, the Three-Legged Jump-Scare PolterCat, Tripod Terror of the Damned. It’s good to have you. I’ve topped off the toy box, put a big vat of Greenies catnip crunchies in the cabinet, and ordered some of those good CBD treats to support your little joints. I hope you like it here. I hope you’re glad you picked us.
***
Yesterday I pulled out the folder of All Things Monty that came with him from the Humane Society. The nice adoption coordinator had walked us through the highlights of his known history, but they’d also sent home a 6-page printout (single-space typed, front and back) of his medical information covering a few more details. It also contained some info for the five other cats who were on the same flight from Hawaii, destined for adoption here in Seattle - and since it’s a printout of a photocopy, it’s kind of hard to parse.
But if I understand correctly, this is what is generally “known” about him - and why I idly suspect that he was hit by a car.
Sometime in the middle of April, the person who feeds/attends to the stray colony in Hawaii noticed that Monty (then “Hodor”) was missing. He was gone for three days, and when he reappeared, he was clearly and badly injured - it wasn’t just his leg. He had a number of unspecified “lesions and abrasions,” mostly on his right side. The colony manager collected Monty and took him to the vet, where he spent some time recovering.
At first, it sounds like they tried to save his leg. He was in veterinary custody for what seems to have been a couple of weeks or more before they concluded that it just wasn’t healing worth a damn, and it’d be better for him to lose it altogether, so off it came. He actually had two rounds of surgery a couple of weeks apart: one to remove the leg, and one to remove some broken teeth - including that front right fang and some rear right molars - as well as get a regular round of dental work. (I think he was also neutered at the same appointment as the dentistry, but I forget off the top of my head. It was at one of those appointments.) There was also some damage to his right eye, and he was treated for that with some kind of drops, but he’d completed that course before we met him.
After the amputation, he was released to foster care for a couple of weeks, through some group dubbed “cat ohana” (which is either the cat branch of the shelter, or a foster network, or an individual foster location - the term is used more or less interchangeably) in Maui.
Shortly before they shipped him to the continent, he was dosed with Revolution and declared free of parasites/whatnot - so whatever’s been itching him lately, it’s not fleas (though he does seem to have some tiny bites of some sort on his belly, so heaven only knows).
He was described at one point as having “mid-length” fur, but by the time we met him he was half bald. The shelter volunteer told us that one of the cats on the same flight had turned up positive for ringworm, so as a precaution they were all treated with the lye dip and he’d been less patchy before that; but it’s not noted anywhere in his record, so I don’t know the details or the date. It looks like he maybe picked up the upper respiratory infection at the Seattle shelter (which is pretty common, no matter how hard they try - it’s like little kids at daycare, whatchagonnado).
Anyway.
At every stop, his “temperament” notes read like a glowing performance review, so it’s no mystery as to why he got sent to the lower 48 for a better shot at adoption. He is a charming little fellow, and we are terribly lucky to have him <3
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* Lucy has always had continence issues, resulting from complications during her spay. It was worse when she was younger; these days she’s usually all right, but sometimes she can’t help it, she’s gotta go RIGHT NOW. So we leave a pee pad out with a towel over it in my office. There’s one downstairs in our bedroom, too, but she seems embarrassed to use that one if we’re in there. She’d prefer to do her late-night business upstairs.