Feline Funnies

I Took My Turtle To The Vet?

 

As a matter of general principle, neither of my cats likes to travel outside of the house for ANY reason – much less going to visit the veterinarian.  But when such a visit is necessary, I always plan to get as much sleep as I can the night before. 

 

Why you ask?  Every seemingly simple visit ALWAYS turns into a full scale adventure or traumatic episode depending on your point of view.   Benjamin Bunny’s most recent visit was no exception.

 

Unlike Gracie, Bunny has apparently not learned how to spell yet.  When I have to take Gracie to the vet, I can’t even spell out the word VET to another family member if she is within earshot.  If I do, she takes off and finds the most obscure place to hide FOR HOURS.  9 times out of 10 I am forced to reschedule the appointment when this happens and offer MULTIPLE apologies for the inconvenience.  Luckily, I have a very understanding veterinarian. 

 

Benjamin Bunny, on the other hand, seems oblivious if I go to the trouble of spelling out the entire word.  Then again, I typically misspell it so no one else knows what it is either.  But, that is beside the point.  Prior planning is still necessary in order to even make it into the car with Ben on vet visit days. 

 

Several hours before the visit, I have to sneak into the closet under the stairs (like the one Harry Potter lived in) and remove his carrier from the back of it.  On tippy toes, I then peek out of the door to see if I was followed.  If I wasn’t, I quickly exit the closet and cross the hall to the downstairs bathroom where I leave the carrier, latching door open wide.  Once outside the bathroom, I attempt to walk toward the kitchen nonchalantly in case I am being spied upon by any felines.

                              
Until about 30 minutes prior to departure time, I go about my daily business always making sure to keep Bunny in sight.  At the 30 minute mark, I begin the “scoop and pop” portion of the pre-departure routine.  I scoop up the correct cat and pop him or her into the carrier.  Up until the last vet visit, this had never really been a problem with Bunny.  Notice I said “up until the last visit”.

 

On this particular occasion, I scooped Bunny up and carried him to the downstairs bathroom without incident.  The moment I opened the door is when things went downhill quickly. 

 

It began with a pitiful mewing noise accompanied by a slight wiggle motion.  Once I started to bend down towards the carrier, the wiggle evolved into an attempt at an alligator death roll.  Trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation, I maneuvered Bunny into position in front of the open carrier.

 

That is when he seemed to expand into a hulk-like version of himself –  either that or the carrier suddenly shrunk.  He arched his back, poofed out his tail, dug his back claws into my knees, and braced his two front paws against either side of the open carrier.  Apparently, he had no intention of going in.

 

                                             

                                  If you think you are getting me in this

                                         thing, you are sadly mistaken!!         

 

When I got his front paws inside, he raised his head above the door.  When I got his head and front paws inside, he arched his back up higher than the door.  When I got…… the list goes on and on.  Finally, my younger daughter heard the commotion in the bathroom and came to my aide.  Coaxing  Bunny from both sides, we were finally able to get him inside the carrier with just minutes to spare before we had to leave. 

 

Our veterinary clinic is just a few miles from the house, so the ride only took a few minutes.  Bunny’s loud melancholy meows made it seem like hours. 

 

Bunny and I must have seemed pitiful when we entered the vet’s office because we were immediately ushered into an exam room.  Feeling horrible about Bunny’s apparent despair, I opened the carrier as soon as the exam room’s door shut. 

 

But, nothing happened.  Bunny did NOT come bounding out as I expected.   In fact, he wouldn’t even move when I tried coaxing him out.  Exhausted, I plopped down on the floor next to him and leaned against the wall until the vet technician returned. 

 

Her approach to the situation was quite direct.  Take the top off of the carrier, place it on the floor, and scoop Bunny onto the scale.  If I hadn’t been so pooped, I am sure I would have thought of that myself. 

 

After his initial weigh-in, the vet tech put Bunny on the floor to roam while we discussed any specific questions I had for the vet.  That is when my cat transformed into a turtle.

 

As the vet tech was preparing to open the door to leave, I glanced around for Bunny.  He was nowhere to be seen.  I began to panic – until I saw the top of the carrier moving awkwardly along the floor.  It took everything I had not to burst out in hysterical laughter.  All you could see of Bunny were his eyes.  Every other part of him was concealed by the carrier top.  He looked like a mutant turtle you might see on a special edition of Animal Planet.

 

                                   
                              

                                         Bunny's make-shift turtle shell

 

Within minutes, multiple staff members were crammed into the exam room watching my crazy cat meander around in his newly acquired shell.  It wasn’t until someone offered him his favorite treats for putting on such a show that he decided to exit his new hiding spot.  Oh, the attention he got then. 

 

Except for a shot, the rest of the visit went smoothly.  The vet tech was able to easily “scoop and pop” Bunny back into his carrier when it was time to leave.   I honestly think he was just too burned out to put up a fight about anything at that point.

 

Gracie was waiting for him when we returned home.  After giving him a good “sniff over” to make sure he was really Bunny, they escaped to the upstairs spare room and curled up on one of the beds.  I think she knew he needed a little TLC (tender loving care) after his ordeal. 

 

What about me?  I made a cup of STRONG coffee, collapsed on the couch, and contemplated what it would take to convince my vet to make house calls in the future.

 

Until next time, remember…

 

I've never understood why women love cats.  Cats are independent, they don't listen, they don't come in when you call, they like to stay out all night, and when they're home they like to be left alone and sleep.  In other words, every quality that women hate in a man, they love in a cat.

- Jay Leno

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something Squished Beneath My Toe

 

 

 

 

Something squished

beneath my toe.

What it is

I do not know.

 

 

Should I look?

Should I see?

It's still there.

What can it be?

 

 

It’s late at night.

The lights are off.

My toe feels hair.

I gag and cough.

 

 

I turn on some lights

and peek at the floor.

Strange glops of food go

from me to the door.

 

 

Amid all the mess

my sweet cat sits tall

and points her grey paw

where my toe did fall.

 

 

Beneath that big toe

as plain as can be

is a hairy food ball

for all to see.

 

 

I now understand

her dry hacking cough.

She overdid grooming,

licked too much hair off.

 

 

It took quite a few tries

to expel all that hair.

But success came at last.

The proof is right there.

 

 

But I wish she had purged

on the downstairs wood floor

instead of the carpet

near the big bathroom door.

 

 

With a shrug and a sigh

I clean up the mess.

Then she gives me a nuzzle.

Good-bye all my stress!

 

 

Gracie has always had problems with hairballs.  I think it is because she feels the need to constantly groom Benjamin Bunny.  He does not have the same desire for impeccable personal hygiene as Gracie.  You can always tell when Bunny has emerged from under a bed or couch by the amount of dustbunnies stuck in his fur.

 

This particular post came to mind after I actually DID step in something icky several nights ago.  I woke up about 2 a.m. and decided to make a quick trip to the master bathroom.  I made it into the bathroom without incident.  The return trip, however, was a different matter. 

 

About two steps onto the carpet bordering the bathroom door, I felt something squish beneath my big toe.  I was so horror struck that initially I just froze.  I knew that I needed to turn on the lights, but part of me didn’t ever want to know what I had just stepped in or on.  As is typical of me, my imagination went wild – racing from dead frog guts to poo plops. 

 

Finally, I knew I had to check – if for nothing other than my sanity.  Slowly, I flicked on the bathroom lights, looked at my toe, and gagged.  My toe and I were surrounded by glops of regurgitated food.  The glop my toe squished was of duel consistency – food and hair.  And, yes, there sat Gracie as happy as can be.  Her hairball was out, and I was there to congratulate her for all her efforts. 

 

It took about half an hour to carefully remove all of the glops from the carpet.  I must have used up an entire bottle of club soda trying to make sure no gloppy particles stuck to any fiber on the rug.  Excited by the idea that I was pouring liquid on the rug, Bunny joined us.  Once he realized that he was not going to be allowed to lick the liquid off the rug, he returned to whatever mischief he had been up to before. 

 

I vaguely remember crawling back into bed later that night – or morning- with the happy knowledge that at least today was Saturday, and I could sleep late.  Unfortunately, Gracie does not see any difference between weekdays and weekends where food is concerned.  Just as I was finally falling into a deep sleep, I felt the familiar head butt of a cat determined to be fed on time.  And, so another day as a devoted cat caregiver began…….

 

Until next time, remember...

 

 Even if you have just destroyed a Ming Vase, purr. 

Usually all will be forgiven.

- Lenny Rubenstein

 

 

 

 

The Art of Whining - Cat Style

 

There are a few things in life that REALLY grate on my nerves.  (OK – maybe more than a few, but that is beside the point here.)  WHINING of any sort is the worst offender.  I cannot stand hearing it!

 

When my students would start whining about this or that, I would push my ears closed with my fingers and start singing “LA  LA  LA”  in a loud voice.  Eventually, the embarrassment brought on by the actions of their teacher would cause the whining to cease.  It was actually quite an effective technique.

 

In a somewhat similar fashion, when my own two children decide to using whining to achieve their goals, I silently sing Jimmy Buffet’s song “Cheeseburger in Paradise” in my head to block them out.  This particular song helped me make it through many a distance run when I was younger.  The mind numbing effect of trying to get the words right kept my focus off of the actual distance I had to run.  It works the same way with whiny children.  By focusing once again on all the parts of a cheeseburger, I tune out the nasally pitched sounds coming out of their mouths.

 

But, I seem to have met my match when it comes to cat whining.  For them, it is an instinctive art that has been perfected and passed down genetically for generations. 

 

Unlike people who tend to just whine outright in an attempt to get their way, cats disguise their whining in various ways.  Often modifying it to the personality of the person they need to persuade into compliance.  In addition, each cat has their own distinct method of persuasive whining.  My two cats provide purrfect examples of this tactic.

 

Let’s begin with my beloved Gracie.  Being a diminutive sleek gray cat, she typically uses her feline feminine wiles to get her way. 

 

Initially, Gracie will swish her way softly towards the intended victim barely touching him or her as she passes by – yet getting the individual’s attention.  Then, she will position herself gracefully on the floor just out of reach with her tail curled in a ladylike fashion around her body.  The moment Gracie hears the words “She is so cute” it is time to go in for the kill - so to speak. 

 

                                      
                                       
                                   Poor pitiful me sitting alone on my paper bag!

 

Quietly, Gracie will meander back up to the victim allowing her tail to gently swipe a leg or two.  That is also when she begins to emit soft, pitiful, gentle – yet dangerously underestimated – mews. Their intent is to melt the person’s heart just enough to get them to stop and willingly do her bidding – which could be anything from scooping out all of the toys shoved under the refrigerator AGAIN to following her from place to place as she searches for the perfect spot for a belly rub.

 

By the time you realize you have been duped, your only option left is to save face and act like you are enjoying pampering her. 

 

Benjamin Bunny, on the other hand, has a different style.  He uses a three tier system to sway his victims:  goofy facial expressions, hand head butting, and panicked vocalizing.

 

Here is a prime example of Benjamin Bunny’s unique technique in action.  Several times each day Bunny insists on having Bunny and Mommy bonding time regardless of whether or not it is convenient for me – the Mommy.

 

He begins by showing up wherever I am, climbing onto the nearest desk or chair etc… and looking at me with the most humorous facial expression he can muster.  The expectation is that I will be so amused I will be unable to concentrate on the task I am doing.  Thus, I will feel like cuddling with him until I can regain my focus and resume my unfinished work.

 

                                

                                     PLEEEEEASE   cuddle with me!!

 

If this doesn’t work, Bunny moves on to hand head butting.  Using extreme stealth, he will try to find a way to get near one of my hands.  If he is successful, Bunny will begin to repeatedly butt his head against my hand in the hope that I will stop what I am doing and scratch his cute little chin.  This technique is usually successful when I am either writing or cooking.  The head butting typically causes me to type weird words on my computer or spill unwanted ingredients into bowls of food.  Once again the goal is to get me to stop the task at hand and focus on bonding with Bunny.

 

If the previously described methods fail, Bunny resorts to the loudest panic-stricken MEOWs I have ever heard.  At first, he will follow me from room to room letting loose these panicky MEOWS every few minutes.  I always check to make sure that he is alright regardless of how busy I am.  Then, I normally resume whatever I was doing.  Frustrated, Bunny will then proceed to position himself just out of site, wait a few minutes, and then add an extra level of panic to several repeated MEOWS. 

 

The problem with this is that Benjamin Bunny has been known to get himself in dangerous predicaments from time to time.  For example, once he got his head stuck in a teeny opening beneath a dresser while I was taking a shower.  Another time he toppled into a clothes hamper and couldn’t get out.  It took several frantic minutes for me to find him.  Consequently, the possibility that Bunny is really in trouble always crosses my mind when he is out of site.

 

At this point, I normally accept defeat, locate Bunny, and give in to his need for bonding time.  Within minutes of his hearing his soothing purr, I begin to relax and all frustration with being manipulated by a furry friend dissolves away.

 

I think the message this post provides is that the way in which you whine determines whether or not it works.  Take a few minutes the next time you are around your feline friends and analyze how they manage to manipulate you into meeting their every demand.  Then, try to use one or two of their techniques in your daily life.  Who knows – it might work!  Of course, it could backfire and alienate you from all your friends too.  But, that is a chance you have to take if you want to get your way through whining.

 

Until next time, remember…

 

Cats seem to go on the principle that it never does any harm to ask for what you want.

- Joseph Wood Krutch