Mysteries of a silent giant

LAUGH ALL you want, but I can usually tell what my animals are thinking.

The dog is, of course, the easiest. She tells me exactly what she has on her mind. When she’s sad, her face goes blank. When she’s happy, she smiles. When she’s even happier, she smiles and her entire body wiggles back and forth. When she’s unusually happy, her smile changes. She brings the ends of her mouth together in almost a kiss, as she wiggles her body.

Of the cats, Yoyo is the most aggressive and also the most expressive. I know at least three or four minutes beforehand when he’s about to attack another cat. First, he frowns. Yes, he does. His face tenses. Then, his tail starts twitching, his entire body tenses, and his eyes narrow.

By the time he’s attacked his target, his face has changed yet again. His expression is now business-like, as in, “A cat’s gotta do what a cat’s gotta do.”

I once thought that I could read any cat’s face, but newcomer 16-year-old Phantom has shown me how wrong I was. I absolutely cannot tell from the expression on the boy’s face what he’s thinking, even though he’s been with us over a week now.

Happy, sad or uncomfortable, his face doesn’t change. His tail might twitch slightly if he’s anxious, and he purrs if he’s enjoying his daily grooming, but again, only slightly.

He’s not the friendliest cat in the world. If you want to pet him, you approach him slowly. I learned early that if he meows at this point, he’s saying, “Leave me alone. Now.” If I continue petting him, he snarls and bats me with his paws.

He doesn’t extend his claws, though, and a few minutes later, he’s rubbing against me, as in, “Sorry I hit you”/

I doubt if the other cats understand him, either. When he comes down the stairs on his second morning here, little three-legged Varee bars his path. Remember Gandalf in the “Fellowship of the Rings”?

“You shall not pass!” Varee hisses, and Phantom complies, lying down patiently until Varee gets bored and wanders away, and he can reach the floor.

As soon as he sees Phantom, Yoyo, who’s in his cage for his morning meal, begins hissing, as in “Watch out! I’m going to kill you!”

Phantom lies down on his side and reaches out, gently touching the cage. Yoyo stops hissing at this non-confrontational posture, but he’s frowning. He doesn’t understand that Phantom doesn’t want to fight.

Among my greatest concerns is how to get Phantom to his third-floor bedroom at night. It is there that I give him eye drops for an inflamed eye, and where there’s a dish with his special senior food and a supplement for his arthritis.

I dread carrying an eight-kilo cat up three floors, especially a cat who doesn’t like being held. The first night, I put him in a carrier, easier than holding a struggling giant in my arms, but, frankly, eight kilos is a lot of cat!

The next night, I get the carrier ready, but Phantom’s waiting for me. As I call his name, he follows me up the stairs to his bedroom all by himself.

I’m amazed. None of my cats has ever followed me where I wanted them to go, but here’s Phantom, a moody giant of a cat, who goes where I ask him, at least, to his bedroom in the evening.

Since then, he’s continued to follow me up every night. An elderly cat, he needs to rest for a while on every floor, but we gradually reach our destination.

How many more mysteries will this mysterious creature show us, I wonder.