Cats, Crisco, and Shoehorns
Some people think that I have three cats at the moment. In actuality, I have two animals that might qualify as cats, one dog who thinks that she's a really big cat mistakenly put into a dog suit, and one very large cat that adores the dog. That would be Spatz.
I've had Spatz for 13 years. Now, he's 16 years old and is a very handsome black and white tuxedo cat who weighs in at 18 pounds. He's a talker and a lover and when he isn't playing with the dog, he's trying to convince one of the humans in the house that he too, is in fact, a human. It's not his fault that he looks like a cat to us!
This month was time to catch Spatz up on his shots and teeth cleaning. Yesterday, he had to go in for his blood work to make sure he was healthy enough to handle the operation at his age.
The phenomenon begins as soon as I try to start acting like I'm not getting ready to leave the house to go to the vet. At that moment, every cat within three blocks suddenly disappears. There have been times when the cats in my own house have literally become invisible and have vanished into some deep space worm hole. It doesn't matter what I think about, or don't think about, THE CATS KNOW! I don't know how, it is just one of those miracles of the animal kingdom that humans may only aspire to evolve towards. Then the cat carrier comes out and it's all over.
We have a king size bed so no matter how hard I try, I'm still only 5'2" and cannot reach any cat that may be hiding directly under the middle of the bed no matter how far I try to stretch. If someone were to walk in on this scene, they'd see me trying to crawl under the bed (HA!) and yelling at "GO ON!", "GET OUT!", or "COME HERE!" Now let's face it... if you were a cat and I was trying to grab you from under a bed exhibiting this behavior, would YOU listen? Okay, clearly this needs to go to the next level. Out comes the broom to play "herd the cat." They all know that once I'm wedged under the bed trying to get them out from underneath, that's their chance to make a break for it because I'm temporarily stuck.
We go through similar maneuvers from room to room as I close the doors behind me. It's sort of like ticking things off the "to do" list. Walk-in closet, check. Under the bed, check. Bedroom, check. Office, check.
The best thing that I can say is that eventually, I do win this game. Yesterday morning it was due to an amazing surprise ambush attack from over the back of the couch. The trick here is to look quietly behind or over the back of the couch to locate the cat and then move at lightening speed to grab the cat before you find yourself stuck behind the couch because you fell over the back of it.
One thing about this evolution, if you are assigned the job of cat catcher in this house, you must be willing to be okay with catching the subject cat by any body part that you happen to be able to grab at the opportune moment in order to end the traumatic pursuit and quickly grab the scruff of the neck before it turns ugly. Yesterday? Let's all just be very thankful that Spatz has a big, strong, hefty tail.
Wait, it's not over.
Cat carriers are generally made for an average cat of about 10 pounds, even the large carriers. An amazing thing happens when you grab a cat by the scruff and start to put it into the carrier. ANY CAT will by the laws of cat physics (VERY different from the laws of physics that we humans are bound by), INSTANTLY double or even triple in size in order to not fit through the opening of the cat carrier. Now with Spatz, imagine trying to fit a furry elephant with claws on his back legs into a travel carrier made for a mouse. I've thought of shaving the cat, greasing the opening to the carrier, greasing both carrier and cat, knocking out the cat, knocking out myself - in the end, it's usually just a test of who gets tired first. Nine times out of ten, I win. On that tenth time though, it's back to square one under the bed or at the very least, behind the couch.
This morning, Spatz had to go back to the vet for his teeth cleaning. Since the vet is on the way for my roommate's commute, she offered to take him and drop him off. God bless him, somehow Spatz thought that if he stuck by me, he'd be safe and thus, avoid the dreaded carrier and vet visit. Little did he know that I detected his plan and was part of the entire conspiracy. As he snuggled up with me on the couch, both of us still quite groggy, I put my loving arm around him and he started to purr. He thought all this was just the best thing that had happened all morning until he figured out that I wasn't letting him loose in order for him to play his disappearing act. I was quickly branded a traitor.
All that was left was to get out the shoehorn and wedge him into the cat carrier. A little Crisco, a lot of determination, and in he went.
I picked him up this afternoon and all is well. Good news, his teeth are clean and none needed to be removed. The vet said that for a cat of 16 years, he is miraculously healthy and that whatever we are doing, to keep doing it.
Guess that means more shoehorns and Crisco. I do love my cats.
(Editors Note: April 2009 - I just finished re-reading this post. Spatz made his transition back to Source late last year at the age of 20. I miss you Bubba Man.)
I've had Spatz for 13 years. Now, he's 16 years old and is a very handsome black and white tuxedo cat who weighs in at 18 pounds. He's a talker and a lover and when he isn't playing with the dog, he's trying to convince one of the humans in the house that he too, is in fact, a human. It's not his fault that he looks like a cat to us!
This month was time to catch Spatz up on his shots and teeth cleaning. Yesterday, he had to go in for his blood work to make sure he was healthy enough to handle the operation at his age.
The phenomenon begins as soon as I try to start acting like I'm not getting ready to leave the house to go to the vet. At that moment, every cat within three blocks suddenly disappears. There have been times when the cats in my own house have literally become invisible and have vanished into some deep space worm hole. It doesn't matter what I think about, or don't think about, THE CATS KNOW! I don't know how, it is just one of those miracles of the animal kingdom that humans may only aspire to evolve towards. Then the cat carrier comes out and it's all over.
We have a king size bed so no matter how hard I try, I'm still only 5'2" and cannot reach any cat that may be hiding directly under the middle of the bed no matter how far I try to stretch. If someone were to walk in on this scene, they'd see me trying to crawl under the bed (HA!) and yelling at "GO ON!", "GET OUT!", or "COME HERE!" Now let's face it... if you were a cat and I was trying to grab you from under a bed exhibiting this behavior, would YOU listen? Okay, clearly this needs to go to the next level. Out comes the broom to play "herd the cat." They all know that once I'm wedged under the bed trying to get them out from underneath, that's their chance to make a break for it because I'm temporarily stuck.
We go through similar maneuvers from room to room as I close the doors behind me. It's sort of like ticking things off the "to do" list. Walk-in closet, check. Under the bed, check. Bedroom, check. Office, check.
The best thing that I can say is that eventually, I do win this game. Yesterday morning it was due to an amazing surprise ambush attack from over the back of the couch. The trick here is to look quietly behind or over the back of the couch to locate the cat and then move at lightening speed to grab the cat before you find yourself stuck behind the couch because you fell over the back of it.
One thing about this evolution, if you are assigned the job of cat catcher in this house, you must be willing to be okay with catching the subject cat by any body part that you happen to be able to grab at the opportune moment in order to end the traumatic pursuit and quickly grab the scruff of the neck before it turns ugly. Yesterday? Let's all just be very thankful that Spatz has a big, strong, hefty tail.
Wait, it's not over.
Cat carriers are generally made for an average cat of about 10 pounds, even the large carriers. An amazing thing happens when you grab a cat by the scruff and start to put it into the carrier. ANY CAT will by the laws of cat physics (VERY different from the laws of physics that we humans are bound by), INSTANTLY double or even triple in size in order to not fit through the opening of the cat carrier. Now with Spatz, imagine trying to fit a furry elephant with claws on his back legs into a travel carrier made for a mouse. I've thought of shaving the cat, greasing the opening to the carrier, greasing both carrier and cat, knocking out the cat, knocking out myself - in the end, it's usually just a test of who gets tired first. Nine times out of ten, I win. On that tenth time though, it's back to square one under the bed or at the very least, behind the couch.
This morning, Spatz had to go back to the vet for his teeth cleaning. Since the vet is on the way for my roommate's commute, she offered to take him and drop him off. God bless him, somehow Spatz thought that if he stuck by me, he'd be safe and thus, avoid the dreaded carrier and vet visit. Little did he know that I detected his plan and was part of the entire conspiracy. As he snuggled up with me on the couch, both of us still quite groggy, I put my loving arm around him and he started to purr. He thought all this was just the best thing that had happened all morning until he figured out that I wasn't letting him loose in order for him to play his disappearing act. I was quickly branded a traitor.
All that was left was to get out the shoehorn and wedge him into the cat carrier. A little Crisco, a lot of determination, and in he went.
I picked him up this afternoon and all is well. Good news, his teeth are clean and none needed to be removed. The vet said that for a cat of 16 years, he is miraculously healthy and that whatever we are doing, to keep doing it.
Guess that means more shoehorns and Crisco. I do love my cats.
(Editors Note: April 2009 - I just finished re-reading this post. Spatz made his transition back to Source late last year at the age of 20. I miss you Bubba Man.)
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