Our cat, Robbie, has to get thyroid medicine. It’s an ointment that I rub into her ear. It’s not hot, not cold, doesn’t sting–but she’d still rather not have it, and circumambulates the whole apartment, staying just a step out of reach.
So we changed and had Patty try to corral this cat. That worked very well for a while, until last night. Patty followed the doggone cat three times (!) around the coffee table and quite lost her patience. And so did I.
“You’ve done it now!” I fumed. “We’re both mad at you!”
And waddaya know! Guess who made a beeline for the chair and hopped right up there to get her ointment.
She knew the jig was up. And took wise and appropriate action.
As long as some of us are talking about cats, I’d like to share this with you. It’s a true story. Honest.
My cat Buster, a big orange cat, was sitting up on the cabinet, looking out the window. His sister, Missy, was on the floor, washing herself. I was concerned for Missy’s weight; so I said to Buster, “Yo, Buster! Look how fat your sister is getting. She needs some exercise. Why don’t you jump down from there and chase her up the stairs?”
And that is exactly what he did.
You can’t tell me your cats don’t understand you when you talk to them. Well, okay, you can tell me that–but I won’t believe you.
Maybe I should’ve saved this for tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait to share it with you.
Here are cats doing some very clever thinking, plus one thought that was not so clever. I like this because it isn’t someone setting up situations: this is cats being cats.
My old friend Ed used to have a cat who used the people toilet instead of a litter box; but he never could get her to flush after using. Better not to try, probably.
I am happy to say Peep never made a mess like this.
All right, so it ain’t penetrating analysis of current events. It’s just some blog stuff. But it makes a nice change, doesn’t it?
When the phone would ring, and I was unable to answer it, our cat Henry used to find me and meow at me impatiently to make me get up and answer the phone. How did he understand what a telephone was all about?
Our little friend Buster once dressed himself. I happened to look up from my work and there he was, sitting in the front window for everyone to see, having donned a pair of Patty’s undies. Stuck his head through the leg-hole and wore it as a cape.
Another time he was sitting at the window and I said, “Buster, do you see how fat your sister’s getting? She needs some exercise. Why don’t you chase her up the stairs?” Which was exactly what he did, as soon as I suggested it.
His sister, Missie, used to bring me whatever toy she felt like playing with, usually a pipe cleaner, so I could toss it and she could chase it and retrieve it for another throw.
Robbie has asthma, and I have to give her a shot from an inhaler every day. She hates that, and tries very hard to avoid it. And yet she has never held it against me, never cast me as a villain for spraying this stuff up her nose. How can she understand such a thing? I mean, medical treatment was the thing that totally spoiled the relationship I had with my monitor lizard.
Well, cats are smarter than lizards. Robbie’s sister, Peep, is fascinated by gadgets–water cooler (it occasionally burps), fax machine, printer, you name it. She probably knows more about them than I do.
