We went for burgers last night after my son’s big jujitsu event. Stopped in at Pet Valu first and found Gilbert.
Abandoned at a kennel, living at the Humane Society since October. My husband brought me over to him and we knew, our Patty was going to have a housemate.
Not sure how it will go, their meeting each other (shoe on other paw now for Patty), but Gilbert is here, in the office for a day or so, so that he can feel comfortable.
Last night, after we’d filled out the necessary forms and left Gilbert, anticipating that we would hear from them the next day, as we waited for the Mama burgers and fries, I asked my son how he felt about Gilbert.
“I love him,” my son said.
The cat wakes me up some mornings by puking.
This morning, she puked in seven different spots. I found four right away, one when I came down five minutes later and two more sometime in the late morning.
When I was in high school, we had a family cat who would sit at the bottom of the stairs and make horrible wretching noises until somebody appeared. Then he would immediately stop and meow.
This was his way of saying: Get up and feed me.
This is our cat’s way now. She doesn’t do it every morning. She isn’t as wily as our old family cat because she actually pukes something up every time. But she does greet me with a brisk run to her cat food when she is done. Looks up at me, mews her tiny mew.
I didn’t draw anything for this. I thought that would be gross.
I know a woman who makes pillows of cat nip. Every now and then, she gives me two sachets for my cat.
“You have to scrunch them up first,” she advises me each time.
I lived in Toronto and never knew the people who lived around me. The cranky neighbour who said I listened to my music too loud. The people who never let their dog inside.
This woman spotted me at Tim Horton’s recently and came over to place a baggie of new cat treats in my hand. She said:
“You have to scrunch them up first.”
I thought, I am home.
A ball with a little hole in it and inside sits a treat. The cat – according to theory – will play with it in order to get the treat. Exercise and reward.
I fill it and push it Patty’s way. Our fat cat pushes it back, grows bored quickly and leaves the treat behind. An hour later, on her way to her food dish, she pushes at the ball and the treat easily spills out. She eats it, moves on to her food bowl.
Most of the time, the ball is kicked by us, the humans, by mistake, on our way down the hall or through the living room. Patty sleeps.Print
I have a beautiful fluffy fat cat that refuses to clean her bum. As this has already brought us to the vet once before for a most uncomfortable (on her part) infection, it has fallen to me to make sure her behind is clean.
Not sure which end I have gazed at more: her front or her back end.
Yet I love her still.Print
A snoozy cat on the table just woken up. She’s furry. The hair on the bottom of her paws makes her slip on the tile floor when she is running.
She’s very different from Jackie, our old sweet cat now gone. Patty doesn’t like to be pet for long. Her favourite place to sleep is at the top of the stairs.
She licked a toad last year and briefly suffered for doing so.
I can’t imagine our house without a cat.