This week’s guest blogger is Angela Verdenius, the Australian author of sci-fi/futuristic romances, a short horror story, and is currently working on a contemporary romance. Her ambition is to write the million dollar bestseller and retire to the country to read, write and be ruled forever by her cats!
Cats & Cat Owners
I’m a firm believer that most dedicated cat owners are a little nutty. We have to be to cope with our furry babies.
Let me clue you in to my life (and I assure you, I’m a perfect example of a nutty cat owner).
Firstly, over the years of cat ownership (I still operate under the illusion that I own them and not the other way around, though reality would point the other way), we have a track record with our vet. Our assorted cats have had: diabetes, renal failure, asthma, fractured toes (ironing board, don’t ask, but while it was different to have a cat clomping around with a paw in plaster, it was a tad un-nerving when she used it to bash the male cat around the head), snapped ligaments (not a clue, but father and daughter both got it at different stages of their lives), mental issues (currently on-going, don’t ask), suspected congestive cardiac failure, pancreatitis, form of Bells Palsy (DT’s right eye will never shut and the whiskers are smoothed back forever against her cheek), cancer, Feline Infectious Peritonitis, pyometra, allergies, and then the usual assortment of kitty illnesses that keeps the vet’s business thriving and my bank balance crashing.
If I front up to the vet and he/she says ‘It could be **** but it’s unusual in cats’, then you can bet your bottom dollar that’s exactly what they have got. Now the vet usually tacks on, ‘Of course, he/she is one of your cats’. Getting the idea now?
Middle of the night visits to the vet, night time vigils of birthing and illnesses, we’ve done it all.
Shopping is always where you find cat nutters – I mean owners. You can see us in the pet food aisle, staring at all the enticing tins of cat food, and wondering if the kitties are going to eat what you buy them this week, or turn their finicky noses up at it. One of my boys used to suddenly decide he LOVED a certain brand of food, and couldn’t possibly live without it, as he informed me with soulful looks and meows. So Mum would faithfully buy him that same thing the next shopping day, only to have him look at it in disdain and turn his nose up, his expression quite plainly stating that he didn’t know how we could possibly think he could eat this garbage, and really, didn’t we know better by now? Sorry, your Highness, obviously not. So back to the shop to see what else we could get for him.
And cooking food! Good grief, don’t get me started on cooking food. I love crumbed chops. If Mum cooks one each for us, then every cat in the house will be hovering around my chair, pleading for a bit, and I end up with none while they all have a taste. BUT if we cook one extra chop to share with them, not one cat comes near the table. Too full, they say, couldn’t possibly eat another bite. So I eat both chops (‘cause I’m weak) that I really shouldn’t have done.
Fish and chips, anyone? Who else in this town buys 6 pieces of fish to feed two adults? We do, because the other four pieces are to share amongst the furries. I thought we were the only nuts in that department, but no, sure as God made green apples, I have found like-minded nuts – er, cat owners – who do the same. And before you sneer, I have met dog owners who buy themselves a burger, and one for the dog, too!
Sleeping on the beds or sofa. Yes, cats will love to stretch out on the sofa and you can find a weeny spot to squeeze into if you’re lucky. Shift them to make room and they’ll make you feel like you threw them to the wolves. ‘Cause shifting them 3 inches is cruel. Lucky they don’t know how to dial the RSPCA or we’d be in trouble.
As for the beds? Give up any notation of thinking it’s yours. Many is the time I’ve woken up, cramped and in awkward positions, and had to move carefully around the furry piles so I didn’t disturb them.
Ah me, I could go on forever. So why, you may ask, do I put up with the cats? Fellow cat lovers will know what I mean when I reply – how can I not? They are my furry babies. They are there to greet me when I get home (okay, most of the time I have to look for them, but they open those big eyes, stretch and purr – rewarding!). They don’t judge me…well, a little bit, but they assure me it’s for my own good. But seriously…they are just them. Cats. Mysterious, infuriating, lovable, laughable, and very much their own person. You gotta love a cat that can purr and make you feel a million dollars in seconds!