Cat has an eye on the dog’s food

Where does my mom find these cats? First Ophelia liked to drink out of MY water dish on my crate. Now Pumpkin wants to eat my food right out of my dish!

My mom tried to persuade Pumpkin to leave me alone. She picked up Pumpkin, who hates being held, and set her down on the counter, near her own food dish.

Next thing my mom heard was a hiss and a bark. She came running over. I won that round.

Pumpkin won’t give up. She’s hoping I’ll share.

My mom went racing for her camera. So now I have flash bulbs going off and a cat staring intently at my food dish.

Who cares? We went on a long walk today and I’m hungry. I’m finally finished with my upset tummy and hope I won’t see a grain of rice for a long, long time.

Happy mom but nothing for the dog

My mom is SO excited today! She’s having trouble focusing on her work, which is not good, because she needs to earn more money to buy treats for ME. (Not that we’re broke, but when she earns money she spends more on her furry family. Especially me.)

She got the word from her orthopedic surgeon, who apparently is like my vet only for people. My mom likes Dr. Freiman because she doesn’t mess around. “She’s direct and to to point and she doesn’t try to sell me on more treatment,” my mom says. “I’m a minimalist, for me and for my animals.”

True. I’m not exactly stocking up on pills.

So she’s feeling all happy and excited, which would usually mean extra walks and treats for me. But do I get anything?

“You’re still recovering from your tummy upset,” my mom said. “Keep resting and eating that rice.”

Right. Like I really have a choice.

Hungry dog taking nap

I’m feeling a little under the weather today. My mom freaked out and put me on a diet of rice … boiled rice. I do gulp it down but it’s not the same as my usual dog food.

My mom is holding firm. “I don’t want to get up at 3 AM to take you for a walk,” she said. “We live in a pretty safe neighborhood, but this IS a big city.”

I’m getting better and by tomorrow she’ll start to give me more of my own food. Meanwhile, my wonderful dog sitter Jaime is coming to take me for a walk this evening. My mom has to take a class. That’s a good thing: she comes home in a good mood and that means more treats … or for tonight, an extra bowl of rice.

Pumpkin Greeting Dog With Diplomacy and Respect

Pumpkin seems to be a cat who follows proper etiquette. My mom says, “Pumpkin is such a diplomat! Maybe we should let her handle the Middle East crisis.”

Clearly my mom gets carried away.

However, even I am impressed. Here’s a photo of Pumpkin approaching my basket. Notice how respectful she looks. After all I’m the princess here.

You’ll also notice toys all over the floor.

And I’m in a grouchy mood because my tummy was upset when we went for a walk this morning and my mom decreed, “No breakfast!” She promised to get me some rice later today. Yippee.

Pumpkin’s no fool. She’s not hissing or yowling. My mom predicts we’ll all be buddies, especially when the cold weather comes and we all huddle together on the blankets.

New housemate settling in nicely

My mom still misses Ophelia but she can’t resist our new housemate. Pumpkin sat on her lap for about an hour today.

Pumpkin’s original name was Kerfluffle, or “Fluff.” But she’s not especially fluffy. The shelter called her “Biggums,” which makes sense – she weighs in at a hefty 14 pounds – but it doesn’t fit. Pumpkin is a very delicate, feminine cat.

My mom calls her Pumpkin because her fur has orange highlights, she’s shaped like a pumpkin and we’ve got Halloween stuff all over the place.

I have to admit, my mom finally chose a winner. Pumpkin is a quiet, sensible, low-maintenance cat. She exchanges respectful sniffs when she sees me. She doesn’t initiate fights with Creampuff. I think she can tell Creampuff is just ditzy – nothing much to worry about there.

Right now Creampuff and Pumpkin are having a quiet staring contest. My mom is trying hard to ignore them.

Is this our new housemate?

My mom doesn’t waste time and she’s not especially sentimental.

“Our home is too quiet,” she said, after Ophelia left us on Tuesday. “It will be hard to find a cat who meets my specifications: at least 5, spayed and declawed. Oh yes, and we need a cat with charm, wit and personality.”

So she’s browsing on Petfinder.com, where she found me and later Ophelia. And there she is … a tabby named Biggums and later Kerfuffle.

She emailed the Seattle Animal Control people. At first she figured they were out in the middle of nowhere, but then she discovered our very own #57 bus goes right by there. She discovered that Kerfluffle is being fostered and it’s up to the foster mom.

“There must be a ton of applicants,’ my mom sighed. “She’s such a pretty cat.”

 

 

RIP Ophelia

My mom was very sad all weekend. We were supposed to say good-by to Ophelia last Thursday. Then, as we wrote in my last post,  Ophelia rose from her nap and walked over to her scratching post and scratched. Well, she’s front paw declawed (by a previous owner) but she tries. She was so enthusiastic my mom said, “She’s not ready.”

So she spent the weekend giving Ophelia fluids and helping Ophelia eat that yucky special food. Ophelia walked around just being Ophelia, Queen of the House.

Ophelia started getting really weak on Sunday. It happened SO fast my mom was in shock.  On Saturday Ophelia was able to move around freely; she even squeezed into a small bookshelf for a cat nap. She curled up in her kitty condo (see picture). She was awake and alert.  But by Sunday evening she couldn’t jump off the bed or the couch. The earliest vet appointment my mom could get was today at 2:30.

Ophelia didn’t wait. She was lying peacefully on my bed, which is big and fuzzy, but she kept having more and more trouble just moving. She would try to get out of the bed and she would stumble. My mom put her back on top of a huge stack of towels.

Around 1 PM Ophelia decided she’d had enough and she headed up to the Great Sandbox in the Sky, soundlessly, while my mom was working just a few feet away. She looked SO peaceful!  It worked out well. She was spared a final visit to the vet and she was ready to go.

My mom and I took Ophelia’s body to the vet for cremation. We took a cab  because my mom wanted me to come along too and I can’t ride buses. Philadelphia is so primitive compared to Seattle, where I was welcomed on all the Metro buses.

My mom realized the cab driver wouldn’t be thrilled if she told him she had a dead cat. So she gently put Ophelia into her big backpack, wrapped securely in an old shirt she wanted to get rid of.  My job was to keep Mom’s mind focused where it should be – on me – and distract her from losing a cat she loved.

I was successful. We walked home in beautiful weather, even stopping at the dog park so I could play for a few minutes.

That’s a two mile walk. I’m totally exhausted.

My mom has decided to get a new cat – a tabby, she says, who will be tougher than Ophelia. She doesn’t want Creampuff to get used to being an Only Cat.
“Ophelia was so special,” she sighs. “But I’ve got lots of love to share with the next kitty, whoever she is.”

Ophelia on her last paws (we think)

My mom has been very sad in the last week. She’s way ahead of schedule when it comes to healing from her fractured arm; she now guides my leash with her left hand, which makes life easier for both of us.

But Ophelia has taken a turn for the worse. It happened so gradually; she was nibbling, then she would eat only canned food, and then my mom took her to the vet. Since then she’s been on a whirlwind of activity, giving Ophelia fluids and drugs.

I’ve always said Ophelia would be trouble. I posted here the day we took Ophelia – all 17 pounds of fur – home from the Seattle Humane Society. But did my mom listen? No. She adored Ophelia from the very beginning.

After awhile I got used to Ophelia, too. Recently we’ve been having long chats about life and our trips – a year apart – from Seattle in the cargo section of a Delta Airlines flight. Last week my mom came home to find us sitting together on the couch. She got so excited she ran to take a photo. Pathetic, isn’t it?

What’s driving my mom totally nuts is that Ophelia gives out mixed signals. She won’t eat. She let’s my mom do “assisted feeding” with a syringe, but she’s not eating on her own or grooming herself.

Ophelia knows where everything is. She walks from one room to the other. She jumps down from the couch or bed – where my mom places her – and goes off to choose her own place. Right now she’s on my favorite bed, which means I get the floor.

Ophelia was headed for the Great Sandbox in the Sky last Thursday. Then she walked over to her scratching post and gave it a few strong swipes. She used the litter box without making a fuss.

“She’s not ready to go,” my mom declared. She called our wonderful vet at Companion Animal Hospital and Ophelia got a reprieve.

Then today Ophelia walked over to my crate and drank the water from my dish, just like she always did. My mom was thrilled but also frustrated.

“I wish I knew what she wants,” she said. “I’m ready to say good-by but only if it’s really the right time.”

Wish I could help, mom, but as always, I’m just the dog. I’ll go along either way – comforting Ophelia while she’s here and comforting my mom throughout the process.

Ophelia ages 4 years

Ophelia has been ailing again. She didn’t want to eat. I offered to help by eating Ophelia’s food but you can imagine what the Mom said.

Ophelia nibbles. My mom keeps coaxing her to eat more. Ophelia stopped purring.

So my mom took her to the vet today.

“I don’t think Ophelia is thirteen,” she told the vet. “I think they lied. She acts like a 17-year-old cat. She’s all bony.”

The vet agreed: Ophelia has taken on the qualities of a very old cat.

“Here’s the thing,” my mom said. “You’ve got an old, fat cat. You want to give it a home. The cat is 11, 12, 13 or more. That sounds OLD. So you mark the cat’s age down to 9. Single digits. Now she’s more adoptable.”

Even so, my mom never tires of saying, Ophelia spent 30 days in a cage in the Seattle SPCA. She was lucky to get adopted at all.

So my mom is back to giving Ophelia fluids and medication. Ophelia’s got that smug look, like, “I’m gonna win this one! No more dry food.”

I’m a neutral observer. Treat, please?