Tag Archives: cats

I have had pets before I adopted my three kittens. I am used to not being allowed to use the toilet by myself. Cats. Dogs. All feel they need to accompany me to the toilet. I have never been clear on why.

However before these three kittens, I accepted that. Before these three kittens, if I need to go to my bathroom for whatever reason, I just went. I very likely would have an entourage, but other than that, I just entered my bathroom to use the toilet, brush my teeth, take a shower, etc. Now entering my bathroom is a production. The cats have been banned from my bathroom. The door is kept shut at all times, and this makes it an entire production when I need to open the door to get in or out.

The cats have been banned from the bathroom mainly because of Orlando. I didn’t like it when they jumped to the bathroom counter, but I did’t get that annoyed. However, soon after Orlando got big enough to jump to the counter, he started turning everything into a toy. I went through three toothbrushes in a week because I kept finding them on the floor or in his mouth. The brush end was in his mouth. I moved the cup that holds the toothbrush to a shelf he couldn’t reach, and then he went after the flossers, which I keep in a cup besides the sink. I found flossers all over the house. Thus, they all lost bathroom entry privileges.

Now the problem is me getting in or out of the bathroom. Obviously because they can’t go in there anymore, it is now the most exciting room in the house. Orlando normally waits by the door, especially in the mornings when I am just getting out of bed or ready for work. I keep my phone in the bathroom at night, so it can recharge. I also use it as my alarm clock, and I need to have my alarm clock in a location that requires me to get out of bed, or I will simply turn it off and go back to sleep. Therefore, every morning, my alarm clock goes off, and Orlando sits and waits by the bathroom floor. It is dark, and I am drowsy and stiff. Inevitably, he will run inside, then I have get a hold of his squirmy self, snooze the alarm, and carry him back to bed. Then the routine is repeated when the alarm goes off again. Sometimes Rosalind joins in the fun, so I have to round up two squirmy cats who generally lie belly up to make picking them up all the more difficult. Oliver is the only somewhat well behaved cat.

Then when I am going into the bathroom to actually do something other than snooze my alarm, after they run in, I have to pick up the cat or cats, put them on the bed or the ground, then run back into the bathroom faster than them. Normally they are faster, so the entire routine starts anew. Generally it is easier for me to put them on the ground, while I am still in the bathroom with the door closed as much as possible, so I can quickly close the door between the cats and I. This still fails at times. Often three attempts are required for me to be in the bathroom by myself.

I have left Orlando in the bathroom after I snooze the alarm. I shut him in and go back to bed for five minutes because I hate mornings. By the time my alarm goes off again, and I enter the bathroom, Orlando is happily playing with a flosser.

All of this, so I can use the toilet or brush my hair. Life is rather complicated with cats.

If you have cats, do not have any doors (cabinet doors, people doors, etc.) in your home.

If you must have doors, never open or close them.

If you must open or close them, never put yourself on the opposite side of the door from your cats.

If you must put yourself on the opposite side of the door from your cat, do so when your cats are not looking for as short a period of time as possible.

If you have put yourself on the opposite side of the door from your cat for too long a period of time, you will know by small furry paws appearing underneath the door reaching into the side in which you are. There may be meowing.

When it is time to reunite with your cats after the unauthorized extended period, do not attempt to stop the cats from running into the side you are in so said cats can determine what is so interesting on that side or the meaning of the separation.

If you must try to prohibit the cats from entering the other side, open the door the bare minimum while loudly saying “no” and “back”. This will most likely have no effect on the cats, but it will make you feel like you have some authority. You do not have authority.

If you successfully exit the other side with no cats running inside, congratulations, you are better than most of us. However, your cats will be annoyed.

If you are not successful in exiting the other side without admitting cats, you will now enter a comic cat roundup stage of your day. However, your cats will have a fun time.

Chalmette in a bag

This is Chalmette, my mom’s cat. He was born on my mom’s patio to a feral cat. For years, my mom had been trapping feral cats, getting them spayed or neutered with vets who help with Trap, Neuter, Return programs, and then returning them to the area around her townhouse. Her hard work with TNR worked well to lower the population, but Chalmette’s mother got pregnant before my mom could catch her. My mom started touching Chalmette and his sibling a few days after they were born, so they would get used to a human handling them. Once they were weaned, she took them inside. She found someone else to adopt Chalmette’s sibling, but Mom kept Chalmette. She hadn’t had a cat in a while. Chalmette became a wonderful pet for my mom. He was mischievous and sweet. He had an obsession with flowers. My mom couldn’t have any flowers in the house because Chalmette would eventually get to them, then take a flower, and parade around the house with it in his mouth. He gave my mom years of love, companionship, and sometimes entertainment. Today she had to put him to sleep. He was diagnosed with cancer less than two weeks ago, and the vet did not know how much time he had. While he seemed to be in good shape and was alert, he was bleeding in his mouth. My mom wanted to make sure he was never in pain. Rest in peace Chalmette. Thank you for the love and companionship you gave my mom. Thank you for finding me so fascinating and allowing me to invade your house whenever I came to visit my mom.

Chalmette on the refrigerator

It all started with Bestoff. I was in high school, and this cat started showing up at our door. My sister is allergic to cats and dogs, so we had never had pets except for a few hamsters at times. Bestoff decided we were good people. People don’t adopt cats. Cats adopt people. Mom started giving Bestoff a little food, and I named him. [There used to be a drug store called K&B. It started in New Orleans where my mom was from. K&B stood for Katz and Besthoff. We had a cat, so I named it Bestoff, only learning later I spelled it wrong.] Then Mom decided Bestoff could sleep in the laundry room when it was cold. Later Bestoff decided he would just live in the house thank you very much. Years later, when I went to graduate school for my Master’s, I took him with me. He disappeared one day over the patio fence, as he often did, but he never came back. Several weeks later I decided I needed another cat. I adopted two littermate kittens who looked a lot like Bestoff. I adopted both because I couldn’t bear the though of separating them, and I was worried one would be put to sleep. Years later, I took Ariel (the female of the littermates) to the vet for some routine test or something. There was the kitten Beatrice sitting in a cage looking for a home. She had wandered to my vet’s house. My vet said she would have kept her, but she didn’t get along with her own cats. So my vet set her up in her office to find her a home. While I was waiting for my vet to see me, I pulled Beatrice out of the cage, put her in my lap and petted her, and she purred up a storm. My vet came out, saw me with Beatrice, and said “I’ll just take Ariel back. You two are bonding.” Next thing I knew I had a third cat.

Years later, Ariel would die. I would adopt a dog. He would later die after five wonderful years. Then I adopted Ferdinand and then Thisbe, both basset hounds. Thisbe died three years ago after escaping from my fenced in yard and getting him by a car. I had to have Puck (the male of those littermate cats) put to sleep last year after 17 wonderful years. Today it was Beatrice. I wasn’t expecting it. She had been having a recurring cold due to feline herpes virus (it’s rather different from the human version). Not a big thing, but annoying. November during her last physical, she had lost a little bit of weight, and one of her blood test values showed signs of early kidney disease. We were going to monitor her, but the vet and I weren’t real worried about it. She had had a cold on and off for a couple of weeks now, but last night she wouldn’t eat, and she seemed to be having trouble breathing. I thought the cold had led to a more severe respiratory infection, so I brought her to the vet this morning. She was getting worse, but it wasn’t an infection. It was severe and sudden heart failure. We didn’t know how long she had, and even in the best case scenario with aggressive treatment, she still probably didn’t have that long. Her body temperature was 90°F when it should be more like 100°F. She responded to having the fluid around her lungs drained, but she was clearly suffering and was clearly dying. I did the only thing I could. I ended her suffering and had her put to sleep. She went peacefully.

For all the dogs and cats I have had, I have been there for four of them when I had them put to sleep. It doesn’t get easier. I guess it is not supposed to be. I know I made the correct decision in each case, but it still hurts to lose another. Now it is just Ferdinand the basset hound and I. My house seems more empty. I’ll probably get another cat at some point. Please God, keep Ferdinand safe and healthy. I can’t lose another right now.

Rest in peace, Beatrice.

Beatrice

Beatrice with a rock pillow. The rock is a hunk of quartz with mica if you want details.