My two older children have been lobbying for a new pet for years.
We have an old cat that I inherited from my college roommate. I was never really a cat person, but I had to admit "our" cat grew on me quickly after we got her. She was very social, greeting anyone who came in our tiny apartment. She let us hold her, touch her paws, mess with her. I trained her to sit, then lay down for treats. I had her trained for a while to come when she was called. She's too old to perform these tricks anymore. She could still do them but she has no desire to humor us. She's 15 years old now, which is old, but not necessarily the end of life for a cat. I know some live until their twenties. (Don't tell my husband that! He's merely (and sometimes barely) tolerated our cat for many, many years now.)
Several months ago we branched into having fish. We're terrible fish owners. The fish kill numbers due to our family's purchases will probably be reported to the ASPCA soon. We took a break from fish for a little while (with the exception of 2 very brave glo-fish, one of which is so thin we marvel that it still lives)(I'll probably find the thing belly-up now.) but just last week restocked our tank and the Betta bowl.
But I never had pets growing up, and I know that fish are a pretty sad substitute for pets that can cuddle and play. (FINE, I had fish once in a while. Fish kind of suck as pets for the most part.) Did I mention we have a CAT?
When I took the kids to the pet store to re-establish our fish colony, I knew they would see the other pets available there. I knew I'd get the whining for a different pet, a more fun pet.
K settled on a hamster within moments of stepping in the door. Um, I guess at least it is small.
M found the kittens up for adoption and changed her mind about which one she wanted at least 4 times.
Did I mention WE HAVE A CAT?
SHE'S SITTING RIGHT HERE ON THE ARM OF THE CHAIR WHILE I'M TRYING TO TYPE.
Now she's not because I had the gall to try to pick the eye boogers out of her eyes.
ANYWHO! WE HAVE A CAT ALREADY!
And she poops and pees in random spots and drives my husband insane on a daily basis. She used to poop on the carpet in my room if she thought I was out too late at night. (After I graduated from college I moved back in with my parents for a while...) Then she was fine for many years and in the last year or two she's started eliminating in inappropriate places again. It's frustrating to say the least.
I know the kids are attracted to the adorable kitties at the pet store. I think they're cute too, but the kitties grow up and shit and piss on your new carpet.
So when my kids asked for these new pets I made a deal. If they can get their rooms cleaned up and keep them clean for one year I will buy them their hamster/cat/dog/whatever.
No chance that will happen. I'm golden.
Showing posts with label pets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pets. Show all posts
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Thursday, May 28, 2009
I Never Thought I'd Owe the Cat an Apology
Oh the joys of taking the cat to the vet. If you have never done so, you are indeed a fortunate person.
On this trip, it took me approximately 15 minutes to even find the cat, which has to be the all-time slowest cat-finding expedition, especially considering the size of our house. I looked in all the usual spots--or so I thought--no Chat. So I get the treat jar and shake it at random points throughout the house.
Bottom of living room stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat!?!
Top of kitchen stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat??! Even I am not convinced I'd get up from a nap for a treat at this point.
**shake shake** **rattle rattle** Chat?
I realize we made the mistake of getting the cat carrier out of storage just the night before instead of a few days in advance. We have to set the cage out days before so that the cat can start to think that maybe, just maybe, we will forget to take her to the vet.
Finally, as I watch the time ticking closer to when she's supposed to be having a thermometer shoved up her butt,* I desperately open another can of cat food even though she woke me up at 5 a.m. for her breakfast. Within seconds she appears in the doorway of the basement. Of course she was in there, it was the one room I didn't look in because I couldn't imagine any comfortable place in there she could possibly have been lounging. Whatever Cat. She tries to escape as I approach her, but even in my old age I am faster than her. I shove her butt into the cage with surprising ease, grab the baby and away we go.
**Meow meow meow meow**
Chat feels the need to express her misery.
*Meow meow*
**
*meow*
Wow, a small pause in the whining! I enjoyed those blissful 3 seconds.
Dear cat, You are just riding in the car. You're in a cage. No one is hurting you. I can assure you that this whole trip will be more uncomfortable for me than for you. Enough with the whining. Cordially, Me
Did I mention that it is raining? No? Of course it is raining and not the lovely sprinkling that feels so nice on a hot day, not the intermittent drizzle, no, it's a steady downpour.
**shakes fist** Who scheduled this appointment for today anyway? Why is everyone looking at me?
So I'm driving along listening to Chat complain about the horrors of riding in the car in a cozy little cat carrier and I start to compose a blog post (quite possibly this blog post) in my head because that's what I do. When life hands me lemons, I write a blog post about it in my head because I'm nothing if not considerate enough to share my pain with others.
Then I start to realize that the Baby is kind of quiet so, oh joy, she has probably fallen asleep and I will have to rouse my sleeping baby to carry her and my whiny cat through the rain into the vet's office. Who scheduled this appointment for nap time? Who? Me? Why? Oh yeah, because I'm STOO-PID.
But as luck would have it, D woke up just as I pulled into the parking lot and the rain let up to a slower downpour so we only got soaked enough to be mildly uncomfortable during the entire visit to the vet. I should note that the whiny cat was completely dry.
I've grown weary of explaining that my cat's name is Chat, pronounced Shaw, which means cat in French, so I just say yes when they ask if I've brought Chat-like the conversation-with me. What kind of weirdo do they think I am for naming my cat after a conversation?
*turns out they take the cat's temp with an ear thermometer now.
Once we get in the exam room, the real fun begins with the laundry list of things wrong with the cat, which, interestingly enough does NOT include the arthritis the vet last year told us that she was developing. It does, however, include impacted anal glands. Say that 5 times fast without cringing. Then the vet said "I'll evacuate those for you before you leave" and I'll admit "thank you" didn't seem quite like the most appropriate response to that statement, but there you have it.
Apparently I was wrong about this visit being harder on me this time.
On the way home with my baby in the back seat and my cat with the newly-cleared anus on the seat beside me I pondered the estimate for $700 of workups and procedures for my 13-year-old cat. Cat's don't live that much longer than 13 do they? I mean I love my cat but I don't have $700 to spend on a cat that is going to die in a year anyway. Plus we have human medical bills to pay at this point. I know, I'm a terrible pet owner, but there you have it. So I don't know what to do about the cat now.
But hey, at least the butt probe was free!
On this trip, it took me approximately 15 minutes to even find the cat, which has to be the all-time slowest cat-finding expedition, especially considering the size of our house. I looked in all the usual spots--or so I thought--no Chat. So I get the treat jar and shake it at random points throughout the house.
Bottom of living room stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat!?!
Top of kitchen stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat??! Even I am not convinced I'd get up from a nap for a treat at this point.
**shake shake** **rattle rattle** Chat?
I realize we made the mistake of getting the cat carrier out of storage just the night before instead of a few days in advance. We have to set the cage out days before so that the cat can start to think that maybe, just maybe, we will forget to take her to the vet.
Finally, as I watch the time ticking closer to when she's supposed to be having a thermometer shoved up her butt,* I desperately open another can of cat food even though she woke me up at 5 a.m. for her breakfast. Within seconds she appears in the doorway of the basement. Of course she was in there, it was the one room I didn't look in because I couldn't imagine any comfortable place in there she could possibly have been lounging. Whatever Cat. She tries to escape as I approach her, but even in my old age I am faster than her. I shove her butt into the cage with surprising ease, grab the baby and away we go.
**Meow meow meow meow**
Chat feels the need to express her misery.
*Meow meow*
**
*meow*
Wow, a small pause in the whining! I enjoyed those blissful 3 seconds.
Dear cat, You are just riding in the car. You're in a cage. No one is hurting you. I can assure you that this whole trip will be more uncomfortable for me than for you. Enough with the whining. Cordially, Me
Did I mention that it is raining? No? Of course it is raining and not the lovely sprinkling that feels so nice on a hot day, not the intermittent drizzle, no, it's a steady downpour.
**shakes fist** Who scheduled this appointment for today anyway? Why is everyone looking at me?
So I'm driving along listening to Chat complain about the horrors of riding in the car in a cozy little cat carrier and I start to compose a blog post (quite possibly this blog post) in my head because that's what I do. When life hands me lemons, I write a blog post about it in my head because I'm nothing if not considerate enough to share my pain with others.
Then I start to realize that the Baby is kind of quiet so, oh joy, she has probably fallen asleep and I will have to rouse my sleeping baby to carry her and my whiny cat through the rain into the vet's office. Who scheduled this appointment for nap time? Who? Me? Why? Oh yeah, because I'm STOO-PID.
But as luck would have it, D woke up just as I pulled into the parking lot and the rain let up to a slower downpour so we only got soaked enough to be mildly uncomfortable during the entire visit to the vet. I should note that the whiny cat was completely dry.
I've grown weary of explaining that my cat's name is Chat, pronounced Shaw, which means cat in French, so I just say yes when they ask if I've brought Chat-like the conversation-with me. What kind of weirdo do they think I am for naming my cat after a conversation?
*turns out they take the cat's temp with an ear thermometer now.
Once we get in the exam room, the real fun begins with the laundry list of things wrong with the cat, which, interestingly enough does NOT include the arthritis the vet last year told us that she was developing. It does, however, include impacted anal glands. Say that 5 times fast without cringing. Then the vet said "I'll evacuate those for you before you leave" and I'll admit "thank you" didn't seem quite like the most appropriate response to that statement, but there you have it.
Apparently I was wrong about this visit being harder on me this time.
On the way home with my baby in the back seat and my cat with the newly-cleared anus on the seat beside me I pondered the estimate for $700 of workups and procedures for my 13-year-old cat. Cat's don't live that much longer than 13 do they? I mean I love my cat but I don't have $700 to spend on a cat that is going to die in a year anyway. Plus we have human medical bills to pay at this point. I know, I'm a terrible pet owner, but there you have it. So I don't know what to do about the cat now.
But hey, at least the butt probe was free!
Friday, February 20, 2009
At Least I Knew How She Felt
Our cat was not always our cat. She was, in fact, the cat that my best friend and (second) college roommate decided to get when we moved into our first apartment together. It was still summer and school had not yet reconvened. We’d moved our belongings into the tiny apartment and furnished it with borrowed items for the most part. I bought a tall shelf that we put together amidst several beers, lamenting the heat in our non-air-conditioned apartment. That shelf still stands in my living room today, holding new treasures mostly gotten long after college graduation.
The cat is here with me too—older, grayer, growing arthritic—but she remains a link to my youthful days when I was teetering between childhood and adulthood. When we picked her up at the run-down home that was giving away free kittens, she was mewing pitifully and trying to climb my leg. She had a beautiful cream-colored coat, gigantic ice blue eyes and impossibly oversized ears. She also had fleas and ear mites. Regardless, we were determined to bring this waif-like kitten home with us.
As the months passed, I grew attached to that goofy kitten that gnawed her way through the wires of my headphones at least twice. We had bunk beds that I hung my robe from that she used as a ladder to reach the top bunk. It was entertaining to see her tiny body working so hard to climb so high and when she reached the top she would curl herself into a ball and take a long nap.
Circumstances dictated that the furry nuisance that I had grown to love would be mine by that January. I had graduated by that time and moved home to live with my parents and try to find a job. The cat moved with me.
I taught her to come when she was called and to sit and lay down on command for a treat. I would fall asleep with her at the foot of my bed and wake up with her on my chest happily purring away, both of her front legs tucked under her.
But I was in my early twenties and enjoyed meeting friends for a night out dancing and drinking and often left my kitten for hours. This being left alone (although my parents were usually home) did not sit well with my kitten. I often learned of her dissatisfaction with my absence as soon as I walked into my bedroom (often in the early morning hours). She would leave me presents in the same area of my carpet every time. While I understood she was angry with me for leaving her so often, I quickly tired of her using a corner of my bedroom as a litter box and set about trying to stop the practice.
Since she seemed fond of defecating in the same area I took some plastic wrap and covered the area. Cats do not particularly like to walk on plastic, especially if it is clingy plastic. It only took a few days of this procedure to get her to stop, however, once I moved again to be with my husband she let her discomfort about the move be known in much the same way. Then she would leave her presents by the front door. Not the most welcoming thing when you want to have friends visit. She eventually adjusted again but wow those were some irritating times. Come to think of it, she was just breaking me in to deal with defiant children, right?
**********
If you have a pet with hair you know how the favorite napping places get especially covered in hair. Enter SC Johnson and the Pledge™ Fabric Sweeper for Pet Hair. I saw the commercial for this on TV and it looks fabulous. Plus they’re holding a contest called Show Us Your Shedder where you could win $5000 cash and a year’s supply of the Fabric Sweeper. While you’re entering contests, write about the messes your furry friend has left for you and send it to PBN for your chance to win a $250 Visa gift card.
The cat is here with me too—older, grayer, growing arthritic—but she remains a link to my youthful days when I was teetering between childhood and adulthood. When we picked her up at the run-down home that was giving away free kittens, she was mewing pitifully and trying to climb my leg. She had a beautiful cream-colored coat, gigantic ice blue eyes and impossibly oversized ears. She also had fleas and ear mites. Regardless, we were determined to bring this waif-like kitten home with us.
As the months passed, I grew attached to that goofy kitten that gnawed her way through the wires of my headphones at least twice. We had bunk beds that I hung my robe from that she used as a ladder to reach the top bunk. It was entertaining to see her tiny body working so hard to climb so high and when she reached the top she would curl herself into a ball and take a long nap.
Circumstances dictated that the furry nuisance that I had grown to love would be mine by that January. I had graduated by that time and moved home to live with my parents and try to find a job. The cat moved with me.
I taught her to come when she was called and to sit and lay down on command for a treat. I would fall asleep with her at the foot of my bed and wake up with her on my chest happily purring away, both of her front legs tucked under her.
But I was in my early twenties and enjoyed meeting friends for a night out dancing and drinking and often left my kitten for hours. This being left alone (although my parents were usually home) did not sit well with my kitten. I often learned of her dissatisfaction with my absence as soon as I walked into my bedroom (often in the early morning hours). She would leave me presents in the same area of my carpet every time. While I understood she was angry with me for leaving her so often, I quickly tired of her using a corner of my bedroom as a litter box and set about trying to stop the practice.
Since she seemed fond of defecating in the same area I took some plastic wrap and covered the area. Cats do not particularly like to walk on plastic, especially if it is clingy plastic. It only took a few days of this procedure to get her to stop, however, once I moved again to be with my husband she let her discomfort about the move be known in much the same way. Then she would leave her presents by the front door. Not the most welcoming thing when you want to have friends visit. She eventually adjusted again but wow those were some irritating times. Come to think of it, she was just breaking me in to deal with defiant children, right?
**********
If you have a pet with hair you know how the favorite napping places get especially covered in hair. Enter SC Johnson and the Pledge™ Fabric Sweeper for Pet Hair. I saw the commercial for this on TV and it looks fabulous. Plus they’re holding a contest called Show Us Your Shedder where you could win $5000 cash and a year’s supply of the Fabric Sweeper. While you’re entering contests, write about the messes your furry friend has left for you and send it to PBN for your chance to win a $250 Visa gift card.
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