Ever try to give a cat a bath? My sister, Krissy, did one time with disastrous results. Maybe if she would have watched the YouTube video I ran across on Facebook tonight, she might have had more positive results.
Cole and Marmalade are a cute pair of cats who appear on Facebook. Their human, Chris, posted a how-to video loaded with tips on the best method to give a cat a bath. I'm not sure all his tips would work, though.
I had gone with a friend on a day trip in early May. We were on the hunt for quilting fabric and plants. We'd been gone from home only about 45 minutes when I got a call from Krissy wanting to know if she could rinse her mouth out with peroxide. My question was: Why do you need to rinse your mouth with peroxide? Her answer came out garbled. I thought it was my phone/hearing. I had to ask three times and finally understood her to say: Frosty scratched my tongue.
"How did that happen?"
"I was giving the cat a bath."
I told her to rinse with salt water and hung up. Georgia and I laughed about the incident and continued on our way. When I got home about 4 p.m., I had forgotten about the phone call. I sat at my computer, turned it on, loaded up my program, and then remembered.
"Oh, hey, let me see where Frosty scratched your tongue." I was glad I was sitting on the couch. We took off for the urgent care clinic. Krissy's 'scratch' was a rip that required five stitches.
Poor Krissy. I laughed at her, the nurses laughed, and the doctor asked the nurse if there was any cat gut in the suture room. For the next six years when prompted, "Hey, Krissy, tell them what happens when you give a cat a bath," her good-humored response was always, "You get to go to the ER." Krissy had the tendency to open her mouth and stick her tongue out when concentrating on a task, a genetic inheritance/habit picked up from our father. Krissy never attempted to give another cat a bath.
Puzzled by what your cat means when it head butts you, twitches it tail side to side while its rear end and tail are up and its head is down on the floor? For more information go to: https://brightside.me/wonder-animals/how-to-find-a-common-language-with-your-cat-289760/?utm_source=fb_brightside&utm_medium=fb_organic&utm_campaign=fb_gr_brightside
Bluebell, a Tonkinese, will often tilt her head back to touch my chin two or three times and look at me while I'm holding her in my arms. She 's being friendly and reassuring herself I'm still there and paying attention to her. The Tonkinese is a cross between a Siamese and a Burmese. Bluebell has gorgeous blue eyes like a lot of Siamese but has Nystagmus which causes her eyes to bounce/wiggle from side to side at times when she's staring at me. It is a neurological condition that is a consequence of the cross breeding between the Siamese and Burmese. The condition is involuntary, non-life threatening, and not communicable.
She is tawny in color and the darker portions of her fur keep getting darker as she ages. Her nose looks as though someone took an eyeliner and outlined the little pink triangle. So unique.
Bluebell is a classical representative of her breed. She loves attention and is demanding of it. She gets along well with the other four members of her cat pack here in the house. She enjoys the great-nieces and nephews who visit as long as they approach her quietly. And when adults come to visit, she makes herself a pest.
She loves to play fetch, and her favorite toy is a plastic ball with openings and a bell inside. She will locate one in the house, pick it up, and call for someone to come play with her. When Bear doesn't respond, Bluebell continues to call, with the ball in her mouth, and comes on into the living room to find one of her humans to throw it for her to chase. The front hallway stretches the whole length of the house. My recliner is positioned so that I can throw the ball down the hall toward the bedrooms. Bluebell will zip after the ball, playing soccer with it until she wants it thrown again.
The first couple of times Bluebell returns the ball for another toss, she'll drop it close to my feet. What she really wants is for me to run after the ball with her, so she will bring the ball back but drop it too far away for me to reach from my recliner. She's talkative like her Siamese cousins, but her voice is higher and a bit softer.
Bluebell arrived at the house on the next day after my sister Krissy's cat, Frosty, crossed the rainbow bridge. Krissy's grief was so intense she had to have another animal to hold, and Vader isn't a lap cat. Krissy's best friend told her of a woman who had kittens. Krissy drove to Hallsville and brought Bluebell home. I came home after work, headed for the bathroom, and saw this tawny head pop over the back of an arm chair in the living room. When I returned, Bluebell came to make my acquaintance.
Krissy moved to heaven December 28, 2015, and I inherited Bluebell. The question in my mind is: who inherits the cats if I move to heaven before they do? Guess I'll have to make some provisions in my will.
If you want to know more about the Tonkinese, there are a number of websites with information.
Superstitious people often fear black cats. A large number of people refuse to adopt black cats so they are often abandoned or abused. A horrible fate for innocent cats who happen to be born black.
I own, or rather I care for two black cats. The older one we named Darth Vader. A tiny kitten born in September/October 2009, the adult version now weighs 12 pounds. We couldn't tell at first whether Miss Vader was male or female. I laughed and said it would be funny if the kitten turned out to be female. Born to Little Mama and Big Daddy, Vader had four brothers and sisters. Her daddy carried his name well. He bore battle scars from his numerous battles to guard his pack. He weighed about 15 - 16 pounds but had a sweet disposition for a feral male.
Vader inherited his looks and his disposition. She's the oldest of the five cats residing in the house and is a caregiver. Krissy managed to give away three of the five from Vader's litter, but we were left with Vader and her sister, Callie, a beautiful calico. The two of them scampered around the house, playing as only kittens can. My mother wanted those two to go to the same house. Finally, Katrina and Keith talked a friend of theirs into taking them both. Carolyn stopped by the house to pick up Vader and Callie but left holding only Callie.
My mother and I sat in the living room, staring after the woman. Vader ran up to Mama's feet. She leaned over, picked up the leggy, black kitten, and hugged her to her chest. Mama looked at me with tear-filled eyes and said, "That's just not right." My mother didn't cry easily, and Vader became Mama's cat. We could find Vader sleeping with Mama in the electric recliner pretty much every night after that until Mama moved to heaven on March 2, 2010.
Mama had emphysema and had been in declining health for a while, which increased over the next few months. She spent the final three months of her life in and out of the hospital. The last time I brought Mama home we had put her on hospice. We made the decision on Thursday and Heart to Heart Hospice had Mama set up with a hospital bed by Saturday in the living room where she had slept since our father had died in 1984.
After the hospice nurse left on Saturday afternoon, Vader made her appearance in the living room and vaulted up on the bed with Mama. I lifted Vader down, but she jumped right back up on the bed. I got up to shoo her down again, but my sister said to leave her alone. They had spent five months sleeping together, and Karolyn it would be a help to Mama. So Vader remained with her human.
After Mama moved to heaven three days later, Vader kept to herself for a while. Then she joined Krissy and Frosty, Krissy's cat, in the bed in Krissy's room. Vader didn't seem to really bond with Krissy though.
At some point over the next several months, Vader attached to me. The only thing I can figure out is I started using the recliner as my work station chair. The lift the chair provides helps me stand. It's easier on my knees and feet. Since I fill up the chair, Vader doesn't usually try to sit with me. She does come and sit from time to time on my laptop on the table in front of me. Now she walks me down the hall to the bathroom when I make a trip or as I head for bed.
The funny girl moves much faster than me, but she will walk three of four feet, stop and look back to see if I'm still following her, gives me a soft meow, then goes another few feet and stops again. When we reach the bathroom, she goes in, turns to meow, jumps on the toilet lid and then over to the side of the bathtub, and waits. Once I'm in position, I have to turn on the water in the tub to a slow stream so Vader can get a drink. She has to have a discussion with me while I pet her. After two or three drinks, and multiple pettings, she will leave the room. If the door is not completely shut, she will put her right front paw on the bottom of the door and tug it open enough to slip through. If I'm taking a shower, Vader will jump on the cabinet and give herself a bath. If I take too long getting dressed, she will meow at me to hurry because she can't get the door open.
Vader is long on patience with her humans and her sisters.
Sitting at the computer this evening, my cat, Gray, joined me. Usually, she sits on my right and snoozes. For some reason, the cursor in the email I was answering drew her attention.
She went on the hunt. Her head appeared to elongate as she stretched her twitching nose toward the screen. With the practice of an experienced hunter, she rose and had her nose on the computer screen without appearing to move. Gray froze in place for at least 30 seconds, sniffing and staring at the blinking cursor. Satisfied that the cursor wasn't anything of true interest or something good to eat, she lost interest and jumped down in search of some real food.
The research I've done indicates, Gray is either descended from a Russian Blue or British shorthair. Her eyes are green, although not bright or deep green. Her parents were a female tuxedo and a solid black male. She was born in our yard to the set of feral cats that appeared full-grown one day. My mother insisted we feed the pair. We did, and they stuck around, Little Mama blessing us with litter after litter.
My sister, Krissy, began to catch the kittens and give them away. Gray was from one of the early litters and was too feral to catch. Our mother worked her magic on both Gray and her mother, though.
Mama would go sit on the front porch several times a day and talk with the outdoor cats. Gray decided the lady with the sweet, soft voice was trustworthy. One day when Mama came into the house, Gray entered ahead of her. She plopped down on the carpet and blinked her pretty green eyes at us while we talked to her. After a while she walked back to the front door and stared at us. I opened the door and let her out. Within a week, Gray sat on the couch and let us pet her.
She located the indoor cat's food in the house and would eat and drink. She always let us know when she was ready to return to the wild. We managed to get Gray spayed so she only had two litters herself. She started bringing us presents--birds, mice, squirrels. I think we got a couple of lizards, but thankfully she never brought us any snakes.
About three years ago, I noticed Gray constantly drinking from our water glasses in the living room. It was either keep a lid on the water or have to get a clean one. Several weeks later, I noticed her fur became nappy and sticky and lost its shine. Then the sweet gray lady lost half her weight in a matter of a few weeks.
After some brief discussion one evening, Krissy took Gray to our regular vet who immediately sent the two of them to a specialist in the next town. The vet there drew her blood and came up with the diagnosis - diabetes.
How do you give a diabetic cat treatment? You buy syringes and insulin and try to figure out how to get the shot into her twice a day. God blessed us. The once-feral, now self-domesticated, sweet baby comes to us to tell us it's time for her shots.
Since her initial diagnosis, she has stopped spending much time outside, ruling the yard. We're not sure whether it's because she prefers the more stable temperature inside the air-conditioned house, or because she's realized she can't move as quickly any longer to defend herself.
One problem has occurred though, someone has to be at home to give her the shots twice a day. It doesn't matter. We love her.
Last August, my brother-in-law, Keith, was on the road and couldn't be home (he and my sister Katrina live with me) to give Gray her insulin when Katrina and I went to Nashville for five days for the ACFW conference. We had to put Gray in the kennel for the time we were gone. Poor baby was traumatized by the time we got home. So I knew we couldn't go away for that long again.
A few weeks ago we all needed to go to Dallas for a family gathering that meant we would be gone from Saturday morning until Sunday evening. Being diabetic myself, I knew Gray wouldn't die if she missed her nightly dose or the dose the next morning, since we would be home to give her insulin Sunday evening. But, we also needed Katrina and Keith's dog, Tool, to be fed while we were gone.
Our friend Sam agreed to stay at the house overnight and feed Tool. He also agreed to try to give Gray her shots. My poor nephew got bit trying to give Gray a shot two years ago and ended up in the ER. Sam is over at the house more often than my nephew is and Gray will crawl up in his lap. The plan worked, and Sam didn't get bit. Now we have a cat-sitter if we have to all be away from home for a few days.
Sweet Gray is at least 12 years old, so I don't know how much longer we'll be blessed with her. All I know is when she crawls up on my stomach while I have my feet up in the recliner working on my laptop, I have to let her sleep there no matter how much work I need to do.
Author, editor, quilter.
New Kindle Release
December 21, 2017
The Bridesmaid Got Waylaid
Can be purchased as a single title or in a collection,
Trying Out For Love
with 5 other novellas from Amazon.com
Murder In Maggie Valley
Book 1 of the KEPS Kozy Mystery Series from White Bird Publishing