Signs, sounds and smells of the times
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Construction chaos rises stress level in a multi-animal residence
FOR THE past two weeks, my little soi has been dealing with terrible noise pollution.
One house is being remodelled to our left and another house to our right. The bangs, booms and buzzing have been almost non-stop from eight in the morning to eight at night.
We’re not the only ones in Bangkok to be facing such noise. This is the construction season, isn’t it, and I’m sure people throughout the city are dealing with the same problem we are.
My animals, alas, are as stressed as any living creature can be, each showing the stress in different ways.
Oscar’s stress is the most noticeable. Oscar is, after all, an oscar, and as all oscar-keepers know, this fish is expressive. With all the banging going on, Oscar lies flat on his side at the bottom of his tank. Other oscars and discus (pompadours) lie flat like this when under stress.
If the fish can’t adjust, it will die.
Among the turtle tribes in my home, Bugsy, the long-neck turtle, is showing unusual stress, by trying to get out of his tub. This escape-artist knows all the tricks, since he can hook his long, muscular neck around almost anything.
So far, though, he’s been unsuccessful. The ornaments hanging over his tub aren’t strong enough to support his weight and simply fall into the water when he tries to hook his neck around them to pull himself out.
Even at night, when the noise has stopped, I can hear water splashing as he falls back down into his tub once again.
The little roofed turtles are another matter. Amongst the younger ones is a boy who’s always been a bit weaker than his siblings. With the start of the construction work, he’s stopped going into the water to eat. Instead, he stays on his basking rock, not moving.
I’ve now moved him into his own, much smaller tub. Perhaps he’ll be able to adjust, but I’m not sure.
Turtles suffer silently, and they die silently, without voicing any complaint.
Amongst the cats, eight-kilo Phantom has been suffering too, but not silently. He must have been under considerable stress when he joined us last April. He had to get used to new animals, new people and new living arrangements, all quite difficult for a human, let alone an animal who didn’t understand what was happening.
At night, I would hear him calling, as in “Where am I?” and “Where is the home I know?”
Gradually, the calling has stopped, except when I’m too slow giving him his food. He’s started greeting me happily when he sees me, and when I brush him, he wraps his arms around my feet and purrs.
With that constant brushing, his fur has improved wonderfully. As an American shorthair, his coat should have patterns of light and dark, and slowly these have begun to show too.
The day that the construction began, though, I found vomit all over his room – lots of furballs. The poor cat must have been so frightened by the noise. Within a few days, his coat started to change. It’s still somewhat soft but feels very oily.
I think he still grooms himself, but perhaps not so much. Furball gel, which is a mild laxative, helps a bit with the vomiting, but Phantom’s still not himself.
Uneasy and jumpy, he won’t let me brush him on some days.
I do hope that the construction work finishes quickly and that all the animals survive.
The worst is yet to come, though, when the painting starts. Then I’ll have to move some of the older animals somewhere safer. The fumes are so harmful.
Noise pollution, then smell pollution – what’s next, I wonder.
