A Cat’s War Journal

Our cat, Yuna, hasn’t sold the dog on eBay (probably because we don’t have a dog), but she does have some other interesting methods up her sleeve (if, say, she had sleeves) on how to annoy and pester her owners. Here are some snippets from her diary… or should I say, her war journal.

1. At all opportunities, particularly those involving delayed journeys to the basement to feed you, attempt to take out humans by rocketing underfoot as they make their way downstairs. Note: If you move fast enough, you can send them plummeting (they will learn the consequences of making you wait for your breakfast and supper) while you barely feel a thing.

2. Ignore the person who takes you to the vet even if they are the one who adopted you from the shelter, buys your food and gives you treats and catnip. The person with the worst allergies really does want your love the most. They just don’t know it yet.

3. Anytime you are on the wrong side of a closed door scratch the hell out of it, or better yet, grip the bottom of the door with your paws of steel and rattle it incessantly. Humans have very little patience for this type of behaviour and will open the door quite promptly. (While they may think they are ‘punishing’ you for not exiting the laundry room when they call by locking you in, really you are getting your way.)

4.When humans momentarily turn their eyes from the open outside door rocket through it like a bullet shot out of a high powered rifle. If you find yourself locked out in less than optimal cat weather, do not meow, see #3.

5. If you try hard enough, you can open a Rubbermaid bin that contains your food. Same goes for less challenging containers. The best time for this is when the humans are asleep. They hate to get out of bed. Plus, if they do wake up, they erroneously figure that the few kibbles you do manage to dig out are merely replacing the calories you’ve burned in obtaining them. (Real cats do not diet.)

6. When sprayed with water for doing something the humans don’t want you to do, pretend it doesn’t particularly bother you. The humans won’t have a clue what to do.

7. Never leave a task like eating a plant, hanging out on the kitchen counter, breaking into your food, or beating up the smaller, older, and much more submissive cat unless the humans are within striking distance.

8. If humans decide they don’t want your beautiful fur all over their new couch and cover it with a blanket, find the one corner not covered and sleep there. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

9. If there is furniture (or counters) you are not allowed upon make sure you leap up on them when the humans are in some way indisposed and unable to get to you, but can see you. Saunter and act like you do this all the time. They will go crazy.

10. Find the busiest area of the house. Stretch out across the narrowest part of the passageway, forcing people to repeatedly step over you. If they act like the are going to step on you in order to teach you that this is not a good place to stretch out, curl up around their foot and attack it. Gently. But let them gather a hint of how serious you are about them disturbing you.

11. Just when they are ready to give you away, be the sweetest, cutest, most irresistible, wonderful and loving creature there ever was.

So, in closing I will say… if I don’t blog for awhile, it is either because I am in a body cast (see #1), in an insane asylum (see #9), or simply too busy cuddling my cute widdle puddytat (see #11).

Vets: An Update

My new cat won’t cuddle me. She won’t even let me hold her. She’s pretty choked at me taking her to the vet’s yesterday. I’m not sure if it was the vet turning her ear inside out for a long couple of minutes while she tried to read the tattoo, or the immunization needle that missed and had to be repeated. Or it could have been when the vet picked Yuna up under the armpits and looked her straight in the face and called her a ‘pretty kitty’ before taking her to shave her neck so they could draw blood for a test. Or maybe it was when I had to hold her down so the assistant could shove a deworming pill down her throat. Either way, she ain’t speaking to me.

Not sure about the ‘ET’ part, but the rest is pretty dead on.

Vets: Did I Miss Something?

The vets in our area seem to have all taken the three day ‘Panic the Pet Owner’ seminar. Seriously. I have had a couple of vet interactions this year with three different cats and have come to the conclusion that they take the idea that a pet is a member of one’s family very seriously. Now, so do I, but somewhere there is a line. But where is it?

I value animals, I love animals. For years I volunteered at the Humane Society cuddling the animals. I believe in animal rights and I get livid when people neglect or abuse them. On the home front, I believe it is important to take my animals to the vet for check ups and I seek treatment and preventative medical care. I also feed them decent food, play with them, cuddle them, etc. So where do you draw the line with treatment? Do you cough up the money only for the most dire treatments and regular maintenance?

My issues with trusting vets began with my cat, Edgar. He developed an allergy to immunizations. Basically, they made his face swell until he looked like the beast, made him vomit and gave him diarrhea. Vets insisted that this indoor cat needed to have his vaccinations. It was URGENT. They’d give him an antihistamine. They’d give him the shot. I paid the bill. Finally I met a vet who agreed with me. No more immunizations for this cat. Whew. But then we got a different vet who guilted me. I didn’t submit.

A series of poor vet calls lead me to a very, very difficult decision last spring. My 11 year-old Edgar was very sick. I had choose to have him put down or spend over $1000 (which I didn’t have) and give him needles every day. While I didn’t feel that it was my right to take Edgar’s life, I also felt that as a pet owner, it was my responsibility to end his suffering as I had taken away his right to wander off into the bush to let nature take its course. Therefore, he was put down. By that point he had long since ceased being himself. I knew Edgar wasn’t well and I put off the vet appointment, knowing that what they’d tell me would lead me to a very difficult decision.

When I could put it off no longer, I took him in. Edgar had diabetes, kidney disease and poor teeth. The vet was quite willing to get his diabetes under control. But, it would have cost at least $500 to $1000, plus constant monitoring and insulin injections. Then she could work on the other issues. The problem that angered me was that we ended up in this poor-health predicament because of a vet’s earlier decision. It all started with bad skin. I later discovered on my own that Edgar had an allergy which led to his poor skin. That, unfortunately was after damaging his kidneys with vet prescribed medication. Because he had poor kidneys, I put him on the (expensive) protein reduced diet prescribed by another vet. I was being a good pet owner. But, the food caused the diabetes. By following their orders for a simple condition, I created two life threatening ones.

I’m so done with their fear tactics. I still feel guilty and angry.

Their fear tactics and persistent pressure guised as ‘if you are a good pet owner’ are more subtle now, of course. The new fear is that my 10 year-old cat is going to die of kidney, heart or liver failure because she has tartar build up. Yes, I do get the science behind it, but at the same time…$650? And who is to say that releasing all that tartar when they put my aged cat under isn’t going to cause those same very problems?

And ah, yes. Deworming. A strictly indoor cat. Three times a year. $12 a pill. Well! So I questioned the vet on how exactly my strictly indoor cat would obtain roundworms. Basically, my conclusion is that I have a better chance of getting the roundworms than my cat does. Maybe I should be getting dewormed three times a year. I wonder if they would squirt the water down my throat after the pill too.

I guess I just don’t get it. I promised when I rescued my kitties from the Humane Society and the SPCA that I would care for them. And I do. They have a great life and I love them. They are very important to me. At the same time, where do you draw the line with treatments? How can I trust their judgement and recommendations after what I went through with Edgar?

Annnnnnd…We’re Back!

Whew! That was a lot of sitting. 4 Days of driving. 4 US States, 3 Canadian provinces…about 500 photos and a bunch of gas and here we are right back where we started again.

Anyway, before the refrigerator stores are even replenished, I’d like to introduce the newest member of the Oram clan: 

This folks, is Yuna. Abandoned to the S.P.C.A. for being a couch scratcher. Seeing as our furniture is already scratched–some of it even coming to us that way–that is of little concern to us. Especially since she is pretty nice. And very curious. She does not want to stay in the TV room, she wants to see the whole house. Maybe it’s the Barbie Mariposa movie my daughter is watching. (She’s happy to be in TV land again.) Anyway, M is sleeping in our room and Yuna is roaming eagerly rounding each corner with her quirky precautionary growl.

As for our cat, M (below). Well, she is not so sure this is such a great thing, but mostly she seems a bit overwhelmed. But judging by how the first hour has gone, I think it will all be okay–assuming her eyes stop being like saucers.  

Cats As Editors

Never trust a cat when it comes to editing advice.

Seriously. They are no help at all. Okay, my old cat Edgar who is now frolicking through the proverbial mouse fields of days gone by (I know that isn’t proverbial, but it sounds nice) might have been helpful. He knew how to slice and dice. He would have been an awesome editor. When he purred, you felt like all that work finally paid off. I digress. My remaining cat, M, however is not editor material. Whatsoever.

You see, right now I have a scene that needs some paring down. Originally it was two scenes that were repetitious. Now it is one scene with a whopping amount of backstory tossed in and around the ‘issue’. I need to only have things in this scene (2nd scene in the book) that add to the whole of the book and propel the story forward. Problem is it feels like everything and nothing adds to the whole or propels the story. Make sense? Make cat doesn’t think it does either.

You see, she sits in my lap and purrs. The whole time. What kind of help is that? I need some tough love and she is gushing over EVERYthing. Her version of being tough on me involves laying on my arm so it’s hard to type. I need her to growl at the parts that can go. But no, occasionally she nuzzles her cute little head into my typing hand.

“Fantastic! I love what you’ve written!”

So see? Cats can’t be trusted as an editor. The only thing worse would having a dog as an editor. That kind of over-enthusiastic, adoring, unconditional love for everything I’ve ever written would not really help me grow as a writer.

“Love it, now let’s go for a walk, my ADHD is kicking in.” 

Oh, hang on! She just started washing her bum, that must mean I do need to cut those last 1000 words. Oh yep. Definitely. She just braced herself to really work it. Ah yes, and now that I’ve cut the scene, she’s cuddled in next to me again. Maybe she’ll make a good editor after all.

Hello? Dr. Kevorkian?

Take a cat with ailing kidneys. A cat who has been with you as long as you have been with your husband–in fact it was your then-boyfriend-turned-husband who suggested you bring him home from the Humane Society where the grouchy little bugger weaseled his way permanently into your heart. And I’m talking about the cat, not the man. He was already in there.

So what do you do with this cat? His pink nose that turns a gorgeous bright pink when he’s happy. His amazingly bright whites that puts Sunlight Laundry Soap absolutely to shame. Your daughter has scars from this cat. You buy special food at the vet’s office for this cat. You moved apartments and took on a roommate for this cat. And now the kitty with the glued on blue plastic claws is having digestive and uh…bum…problems. Just how many accidents and ‘drop plops’ do you have to live with before it is time to play Dr. Kevorkian?

Unless said cat is evidently anguishing, how do you live with the guilt of assisting him painlessly (and I’m sure with a hefty veterinarian bill) into the great feline hereafter? I mean, he seems okay. Other than being skin and bones and guzzling water if he eats dry kibbles. And, of course, the whole bum thing. (How much stink can one cat make, anyway?) I mean, he’s still that loveable cat that gets in your face and is simply irresistible when he tries. He’s still that grumpy old goat who likes his ‘face space’. He’s still that curious guy who meows for you when you are gone. He’s still that poor abandoned cat who was rescued on your first night at the Humane Society, all grateful and purring even though he had lost part of his one ear to frostbite and had been abused and was missing a tail so nobody else wanted him or would love him. Except me.

He’s my pal. What can a girl do? What can a girl do?

All I can do is wait, hold his kitty litter encrusted paw and be his friend.

Moments

Why I love and want to be Meg Cabot: When doing revisions on her book, she wrote in her blog: “I am so close to being done I can taste it. And it tastes like chicken.”

Why my cat is weird: He loves his blue glue-on claws. He rips the clear ones off. He is also a big burly guy who walks like a bulldog, is missing one ear and half his tail. Conclusion: he’s secretly gay.

Most satisfying moment of the morning: Having a hot, steamy shower and fogging up the bathroom, then plugging the dehumidifier in and telling it to go for it.

Why my cat owns me: He is starving himself away to nothing so I will relent and feed him nothing but wet food. Which of course, I now am doing at $1.34 a can since he has kidney problems.

Why my cat likes to lick the water from the shower: He refuses to drink like a normal cat from the water dish. Instead, he chooses to dab a paw in the water and then delicately lick the water from his paw, hence making the water bowl water undrinkable due to the murky greyness of clumping kitty litter that he then leaves in the bowl. Or water glass left unattended. Or toilet. Or shower. Or bathtub. Or…

Why you never do business with siblings: They have bullied you all their life. Why would they stop now?

Moment of joy last night: realizing that I didn’t have to get up and go to work this morning!

Moment of insanity: A small child who is so excited that you are not working that they have to show you every tiny little thing every tiny little second, because they are just so happy, they need to share it.

Moment of heart warming satisfaction: A small child who is so excited that you are not working that they have to show you every tiny little thing every tiny little second, because they are just so happy, they need to share it.

Latest addiction: Chai tea. Oh. My. God. Yum. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s not just tea. It is like tea and water and milk and honey and warm yumminess. And really awful if you are a bit lactose intolerant. But what can you do, it is the best of coffee and tea combined. Ohhhhhh god. Could you imagine it with a bit of vanilla? I think I’m going to have to go buy some Chai tea. I wonder if it would work with Earl Grey? Let me go check my cupboard…

‘Ah Nuts’ moment: I may actually have to learn how to use Dreamweaver–which I have totally been putting off. And I suppose that means that I should also get off my butt and go and get with it and find an actual blog program. Ah nuts.

Breaking News: Computer Transforms into Fury Beast and Consumes Unsuspecting Owner

Cats, they’ll love you and miss you when nobody else will.

I can barely type my cats are crowding me so much. One is curled up and pressing into my leg, the other one is actually perched on my right arm. He’s purring too. Weird. He’s usually a lot more aloof. I guess they missed me. Unfortunately, they are making my keyboard and screen super fury. Agh! My computer is turning into a signing fury beast! (It sounds a lot like Jennifer Warnes.)

It is raining, raining, raining.

Thinking of joining a writing association, but how do you ever pick one? They are sound good…or conversely, not what I am looking for. Choices, choices, choices.

To only have my foot in the door.

Argh! My fury computer has come alive and is eating me…