I don’t know many cats who are fond of traveling. Most of us are extremely busy keeping our territory maintained, and as such, we do not really have time for traveling and we certainly do not volunteer for it. It’s stressful and upsetting to think about our territory being left alone and unattended for even a few hours. Do you know what kinds of things can happen in the span of a few hours? Raccoons could invade! Another cat could break in! Food could disappear!
But alas, sometimes we do not have choices when it comes to traveling or not. If I had my way, I would never leave my empire, but sometimes my human has other plans, and since she controls my food bag, I have to go with her. Cats have superior senses, you know, and I can always sense that a trip is coming. I can always tell that she’s planning something and trying to hide it from me. There are subtle signs that warn of these things…
The bags begin appearing by the door. Always a few, some with things from the bathroom, some with clothes. Is the human just cleaning, or is this something I need to be concerned about?
Things go into the car. One by one, things begin disappearing. The bags start to go. Then things from the fridge come out and disappear.
My collar goes on. Hmm. This isn’t a good sign.
My food bag goes into the car. Oh no. I got excited for a second, but this is definitely not a good sign.
My bowls are gone. It’s really happening. I need to find a place to hide.
My litter box is gone. There’s nothing left. I’m next.
I try to barricade myself somewhere; I try to hide, but it always ends up being futile. There are only so many places where I can hide, and somehow the human always ends up grabbing me and putting me in the fateful little carrier. It’s going to be a long couple hours until freedom comes again….
It’s hard being a full-time cat and doing a good job at it. A lot of people overlook just how time-consuming and exhausting it really is, especially if, like me, you have a large territory to lord over responsibly. Not every cat has the position of emperor like I do, and let me tell you, it is a huge task to undertake each and every day. But I never shy away from my duties. I am emperor for a reason, and I always strive to show my subjects excellent leadership.
From dawn to dusk and through the night, I am always hard at work maintaining my empire to the best of my ability. It might look like I nap a lot, but I always have one eye open, and I am ready to leap up at a second’s notice whenever anyone needs me. Day in and day out, I have a long list of areas I have to oversee and manage:
Kitchen activities. I always keep a watchful gaze over cooking and food prep, to make sure that imperial standards are upheld. I frequently have to taste-test what the kitchen produces to ensure it is of top-notch quality.
Water usage. Whenever water is used in my home, I have to check to ensure that the pipes are working correctly and that the water is of satisfactory taste, temperature, and quality. This includes bathtubs, sinks, and toilets — if I hear a flush, you know I’ll come running to do my job!
Trash services. I have to routinely inspect the trash to make sure that items are being disposed of correctly and that food is not being accidentally thrown away. Oftentimes, my kitchen staff will mistakenly toss something that is still edible — or at least partially edible — and I have to rectify those situations.
Cleanliness. I have to make sure that all quarters remain clean and up to standards. I routinely have to clear out dust, cobwebs, spiders, bugs, lint, and other odds and ends that pile up in the corners. I also make a point of licking the kitchen floor at least once a day, to clear it of oil, crumbs, and other bits of food that slip out of the kitchen staff’s hands.
Security. One of my most time-consuming jobs is patrolling the premises and making sure that my empire’s defenses have not been breached. I have to check all windows, doors, and other points of entry to make sure they are still secure. I try to mark them with my scent to let outsiders know this is the boundary of my territory, although my human doesn’t seem to understand my efforts.
Day watch/night guard. Another extremely time-consuming job is to keep watch over the empire and keep an eye out for potential threats or intruders. I have several perches throughout my empire where I post myself for my watch sessions. These sessions are extremely fatiguing and have to be broken up with naps, but even then, I always sleep with my senses honed and ready for action.
Between all of these duties, I hardly have time for myself. I’m lucky if I can fit in time to play and time to clean myself. It’s certainly an exhausting job, keeping this empire running right and making sure my humans are safe, but it’s worth it in the end. I am, after all, Emperor Julius, and this is my duty on this earth.
We have some new friends staying with us, my dear followers. I have been very excited about these friends because they are my favorite kind of friends: they are quiet, and pleasant, and above all, they are edible! I love these new friends!
My human brought them home one day and left them out on the table so I could greet them. I always like to greet new friends when they come to my empire. So I did my royal duty by jumping up on the table and giving these newcomers a friendly welcome. They were certainly unusual to me at first, because I don’t usually have plants as visitors. They were very tiny and green and they had a unique perfume. Usually plants smell sweet or grassy, but these smelled different. They smelled sharp and a little spicy, and although I didn’t like it at first, I wanted to be polite and entertain my new guests. I wanted to sit with them and start a conversation to learn more about them, and I was just starting to do that, but my human ran in and rudely interrupted, whisking the plants away before we could get properly acquainted — her accusation was that I was planning to eat them. Maybe, but not before a proper introduction!
For a while, the plants stayed in one of the guest rooms, locked away from me. I sat outside the door and tried to find opportunities to get inside and continue getting to know my guests, but I wouldn’t get to steal more than several extra seconds with them before my human would notice me and kick me back out. Now my new friends are sitting outside on the back porch, where they do not seem to notice me staring at them from the window. It’s sad, but I know one day I will get to know these new friends. I might even get to give them a loving nibble.
I am very angry right now. I have been angry for a good number of weeks. The humans in my household have taken audacious steps to ruin and interrupt the glorious mealtimes I used to have. Service is worse than ever before, and I no longer enjoy the benefits of a self-serve buffet. Mealtimes have become downright horrendous. Quality is poor. Serving sizes are too small. Everything is awful. I’m going to leave this establishment a terrible review on Yelp, without a doubt.
I had been living a good life until now. My humans were lenient, letting me have all I wanted. Milk, yogurt, chicken, beef–whatever I asked for, I received. But I knew the day would come when they tried to stop me. I laughed in the face of the vet tech who staggered trying to lift me onto the table. I was doing more splendidly than ever before. My cat tree was overflowing with my glory, all 18 pounds of me. Why couldn’t the stupid humans realize that this was a good thing? I saw, in the vet’s disapproving eyes, the confirmation that my good days were coming to an end. I endured jokes and puns about my frame, cruel words thrown around above my head as the humans contrived their evil plan. Garfield. Obese. Big-boned. And then I heard the most dreaded word of all, the death sentence for my happiness. Diet.
That was months ago, and the torture has yet to cease. I am subjected to only two meals a day now, breakfast and dinner, with an agonizing 12 hours in-between, and no more treats from the kitchen. I try, sometimes, to get them for myself. I open cabinets and cupboards; I snuffle around in corners like a pauper, looking for crumbs and scraps to soothe my hunger. I sit in front of the pantry door and cry for hours, bemoaning my fate, lamenting that I lack the thumbs that would allow me to at last open the door and take all the kibble my heart desires. I even ate lettuce once when it fell on the floor. I am that desperate. My dignity has been crushed beyond hope.
I do not know when the vile vet will be appeased. She was happier last time but still demands even more. I am losing strength. I do not know how much longer I can endure this barbarity. I repeat: I only get two meals a day now. Only two. The injustice is incredible. I hope I survive, but I cannot be certain I will. I am surely skin and bones now, a shadow of my former self. I hope to write to you all again, if I do survive this. Maybe the vet will decide to be merciful and release me from this plight. I will return to my habitual post now, sitting resolutely in front of the pantry door, waiting for some angel to come and open it for me. The humans do not care. They watch, they listen, and yet they do nothing. All they say, day after day, is “You’ve already eaten”, but they will never understand the torment of only having two meals a day.
Tigers, those majestic king-beasts of the feline world, are famous for a number of reasons. They fierce and capable hunters, routinely bringing down large prey in amazing feats of physical performance, and in addition to their athletic prowess, they are dazzlingly handsome, their beautiful stripes and bright eyes enchanting all those who see them. Further, firmly striking their identity apart from that of your average, everyday feline, they enjoy water and swim in it when they want to, something that we would hardly ever see your everyday feline do. Taking these qualities into account, I think it’s safe to say that I, too, must be some form of marvelous tiger, since I exhibit all the traits of one of these magnificent creatures.
I always suspected that I was a descendant of tigers, even if nobody told me. Perhaps they were trying to conceal my regal heritage from me, but that ruse could only be kept up for so long. Royal blood always emerges sooner or later. My physical similarity to tigers is undeniable–anyone who looks at me for so much as a second certainly must recognize the familial relation. I have the orange stripes, the eyes, the gait, the broad, imposing face. The only thing I am really lacking is stature, and that can be made up for with confidence, of which I have plenty.
Like my mighty relatives, I also love water. My human was surprised when spritz-bottles did nothing to discourage me. She was surprised to find me in the bath tub when it still had water in it. She was also surprised to find me tolerating baths unperturbed, especially if the water was warm. Yes, I love water. I love to stick my paws in it, my face in it, my tail in it. She fills up the sink for me to have as a giant water bowl, but I like water best if it’s being used by someone else. I investigate every cup that people leave out. I don’t care if my belly gets wet when I’m stealing a drink out of the tub. I put my paws in the toilet and drink out of it too. My human has given up trying to stop me. Silly human, toilet water is what keeps me so healthy!
When provided with this evidence, who could deny my relation to those tigers? The resemblance is uncanny, with a brilliant personality to match.
We all know that cats need a variety of nice beds to sleep in. We cats are certainly connoisseurs of comfort and luxury, and this discerning taste only becomes more refined with age and experience. I have slept in/on a great number of different beds in my time, and I’m going to share my wisdom with you all today and rank my favorite sleeping spots.
#5: The Tried and True Cat Bed
I have two cat beds, which my human has smartly placed on the floor beside a large window. They are good, sturdy, practical things. They’re soft enough for a quick nap and they keep my butt warm and add extra comfort when I’m watching birds, but they’re nothing remarkable. True luxury exists elsewhere.
#4: The Couch
I like the couch more than my cat beds because it’s off the floor and much softer. I can stretch out and lounge on blankets and cushions. It also gives me a good view of my domain.
#3: My Human’s Bed
This was the best sleeping spot I knew for years. Warm, cushioned, and plush, the bed is certainly an unparalleled kind of luxury. I can sleep here for hours in all sorts of positions: stretched out, on my back, cat loaf, and more. I can rest my head on pillows and snuggle with my human. The bed is a solid, staple favorite of mine.
#2: My Cat Tree
Oh, how my life changed forever once I got my tree! I love my cat tree! It combines so many of my favorite things together — I can be up high, reclining in plush luxury, and I can watch birds comfortably from my window. I spend many hours of my day in my cat tree. It offers great versatility, allowing me to carry out my favorite activities in warmth and comfort.
#1: My Basket
Don’t get my wrong — I love my tree, I love my human’s bed, but this one takes the cake above everything. I never knew how wonderful baskets were until recently. I discovered this by accident and a true stroke of luck. There is something so beautifully, enticingly rustic and wild about being in a basket. It makes you feel like a true tiger, surrounded by nature, sleeping in the rough. It fits me snugly and perfectly, and I sleep just like a kitten. I would recommend a well-fitted basket to every cat who can get one!
Greetings, dearest followers. It has been a long month of journeying and adventure for your imperial leader. Some big changes have occurred in the humans’ world, the specifics of which I do not yet fully know or understand. I do not usually concern myself too much with their goings-on, but this time their business crossed over into my world. I found myself in transit, on a trip into the unknown. I did complain, but alas, it seems this journey out of my territory was a necessity.
I am penning you this letter now from a new land and entirely new quarters. My trusty forever human is with me, as are now two other humans who smell and sound like her. I have heard them referred to as my “grandparents”, but I do not think of them this way. They have become part of my royal court, and they are my two new favorites. I love my forever human, no doubt, but these two new subjects understand the importance of generosity, and they lovingly indulge my whims for snacks and fresh flowing water. They certainly treat me as an emperor should be treated, and I hope my forever human learns some things from them!
My forever human assures me this change is temporary. She says we will soon return to my territory, where I have my own tree and my own garden full of birds. Until then, I have to be content with the view of someone else’s garden. It’s not too bad here. I have a penthouse suite all to myself — at least, most of the time.
There is a darker side to all of this. There is intrigue afoot, my dear subjects, another cat in this house, and she has reigned over this territory far long than I have reigned over mine.
photo by Clarabelle Fields
She is the omnipotent queen of these parts, and she is not to be trifled with. I had the misfortune of meeting her once, and never again. She was like a hellhound out of a nightmare, ready and seasoned for battle. She has the battle scars to prove it, too, and she nearly gave me one of my own. My forever human, my bodyguard, sacrificed herself to stop this attempt on my life. It looks like we will not be forging a feline alliance after all.
Since our encounter, the queen has remained by herself, downstairs, and she has not come near me again. I have staked out my own little corner of her world, and I will remain here until it is time to return to my empire. My forever human is keeping a careful watch at the door. I never doubted her fealty, but now I know for sure she is on my side, now and forever.
Recently, I have had the misfortune of being persecuted, my dear followers, by what I can only assume are gremlins in my litter box. I have no idea why these invisible creatures have chosen to come after me, especially now. At troubled points in my past, I dealt with their curmudgeonly attacks, and I dealt with these attacks largely in silence. These attacks, although irritating, would eventually pass, and I would forget about them until they would inevitably return one day without warning. Sometimes weeks would pass where I would be left undisturbed, and I would relish those weeks, relish the freedom of being able to use the litter box in peace. Other times, I would have to grit my teeth, knowing that the gremlins would emerge and make my litter box an unpleasant place whenever I attempted to do anything. I was brave for a long time, enduring the gremlins, but eventually it became too much for me. I had to seek out alternative options just to try to escape them. I tried to use other places–the bed, the couch, the rug, hidden corners around the house. The gremlins still managed to find me. Now I wasn’t safe anywhere in the house, and I started hissing at them. They were lurking invisibly around me, everywhere. I just wanted to win back the trust and peace I had formerly enjoyed in my litter box.
I had tried to tell various humans about this at points when it got especially bad. My humans didn’t seem to understand my distress. They thought I was just being a bad-tempered emperor, upset by the rearrangement of furniture in my palace. Some vets didn’t understand me either, saying it was just because I was fussy about my litter. It’s the gremlins, I kept saying, it’s the gremlins, but my cries fell on deaf ears for a long time. It was really the hissing and the madness that got my humans’ attention–finally, at last, someone was aware of my struggle with these gremlins.
I almost regretted bringing their awareness to it at first. I can’t count the number of times I got stuffed in the dreaded cat carrier and hauled to a vet. The number of times I saw the cold insides of that vet’s office! The number of times I got poked and prodded! The number of times I was forced to eat horrible, bitter liquids! But whatever they did to me, as awful as it was, chased the gremlins away, at least for now. It’s hard to believe that they’re actually gone and won’t torment me anymore.
Disclaimer: the staff writers here are not vets nor are they qualified to give medical advice. This article’s purpose is strictly to share one individual’s story and should not be used for diagnostic purposes. Please take your cat to the vet if you suspect anything might be wrong with them. Your vet will know best what to do in your specific situation.
This post today will discuss our long and at-times frightening journey in discovering, diagnosing, and treating Julius’ FLUTD/FIC. For those who might not be extremely familiar with FLUTD, it stands for feline lower urinary tract disease. FLUTD is a general term that encompasses a number of related medical conditions, all of which involving issues with urination, the bladder, and the urethra (especially in male cats). Cats with FLUTD often struggle to use the litter box and may experience a lot of pain when attempting to urinate. This pain can often prompt them to urinate outside of their litter box, if they are even able to urinate at all. FLUTD can be caused by a number of conditions, such as the presence of urinary stones or blockages. It can also be caused, as in Julius’ case, by a condition called feline idiopathic cystitis (FIC), which basically means that the affected cat’s bladder becomes inflamed for some unknown reason and then causes pain and other problems with urination. These conditions can be life-threatening if they lead to a severe infection or a urinary blockage, which can kill a cat very quickly if left untreated.
Julius came to me with a tentative diagnosis of FLUTD/FIC, but at this early stage of our lives together, this diagnosis was not one that was set in stone. Various vets disagreed over whether he actually had the condition or not. Before I got him, a woman had adopted him and then returned him to the shelter because he had been peeing consistently outside of his box. A vet had diagnosed him with “probable FLUTD” but hadn’t done any tests such as urine analysis to check for crystals or infection in Julius’ urine. This tentative diagnosis, which was displayed prominently on a card above his cage, warned potential pet parents that he would need to be on a special kind of food that can be quite pricey.I think this is what scared people off from adopting Julius for so long. He was (and still is) an extremely cuddly, friendly cat, but he had been in the shelter for nearly a year by the time I met him. I adopted him anyway, knowing that he might have health problems and might require a special diet. I have a special diet myself (hello food allergies) so I sympathized a lot with his situation. I was concerned about his medical history, of course, but two other feline medical professionals told me they did not believe Julius had FLUTD. They both believed he had been incorrectly diagnosed and that his peeing problems were behavioral — the result of his previous owner having left him for periods of 3 weeks at a time and not regularly changing his litter box. Since the vets didn’t believe the FLUTD diagnosis, I fed Julius “regular” indoor cat food instead of his special diet. Things were fine for a while. He ate the regular food and didn’t seem have FLUTD. But then…
About a year and a half later, we began having issues. Minor ones at first. Julius started peeing outside of his box, not all the time, but enough that Nature’s Miracle became a regular staple on my shopping list. He seemed to be peeing strategically, in front of doors and, unfortunately, on the bed. I thought these issues were behavioral as well. He would do it when I was gone for a weekend or on short trips. He would do it if something upset him. He began to get really bad after I rearranged the furniture. I thought he was just acting up, being bad, being naughty. I was frustrated and didn’t understand why he kept peeing everywhere, even when he had a clean litter box. I took him to another vet, who also agreed that it was behavioral. She told me to get Feliway and keep his litter box immaculate. It made no difference. He kept peeing in his favorite “pee spots”, often going on week-long rampages where he would pee everywhere. I was at my wit’s end.
It took six months of this before I finally understood that something was seriously wrong and it was not just “behavioral”. One morning I found Julius in obvious extreme distress. He was straining to urinate but only passing very small amounts. I watched him attempt to use the litter box six to eight times in the span of 30 minutes. He was clearly in a lot of pain and distress. I took him to an emergency animal clinic immediately, afraid that he had become blocked or something similarly serious. The vet there ran a urine analysis and said that she found an infection but no signs of urine crystals, so she sent him home with a ton of antibiotics and pain medications. They were all goopy, stinky, disgusting liquid medicines that I had to shove down his throat twice a day, each time with him struggling and acting like I was trying to murder him. He spent most of his time sleeping, refusing to leave the comfort of his cat bed. This vet said she wasn’t completely convinced that he had FLUTD/FIC. She rechecked his urine and said she found nothing abnormal in it. She suggested that I put him on an OTC special diet to see if it helped. I began feeding Julius a store-bought cat food with a “urinary tract health formula” in the hopes that he would be fine from there on out and not need to be on an Rx diet. Turns out I was very wrong.
Just a month after his first ordeal, Julius became severely distressed again. I found him straining to urinate. This time he was growling and hissing viciously, and he couldn’t pass any urine at all. I rushed him to the emergency clinic again. He saw another vet this time, and this vet ran even more tests than the other vet had — x-rays, urine analysis, etc. This new vet told me that Julius’ urine was completely full of crystals and that he had a blockage in his urethra. Julius had to be put under for a procedure to clean it out and remove the blockage. Those few hours where I was at home alone without my furbaby, waiting for the vet to call me back with news, were some of the worst hours of my life. I could not imagine living without him, and it was terrifying to me just how easy it could have been to lose him. To repeat — blockages are extremely dangerous for cats. If you think your cat could be blocked, take them to a vet immediately. They can die within days if it is not treated.
Luckily, Julius was able to come home the next day. He was woozy, wobbly, and had even more medicine to take. This time, this new vet, I think vet #5 at this point, told me that definitively, yes, Julius has FLUTD and FIC, and that it would be important to put him on a special diet to prevent him from having more issues in the future. The vet did not believe that Julius’ old “special” food was special enough to fix the problem. The vet instead put Julius on Purina Pro Plan Veterinary UR Urinary St/Ox Cat Food, with strict orders that Julius be fed nothing else at all — no treats, no human food, no other brands of cat food. Julius had to take antibiotics for the next 2 weeks and steroids for the next month. This time they were pills, which he happily ate with his food. I watched him like a hawk every time he used his litter box. Gradually, over that month, his urination problems went away. He became bright and happy and playful again, just like he was when I first adopted him.
Julius has been exclusively eating this new food for several months now, and to date he has had no more urinary issues. He no longer pees outside of his litter box and hasn’t had to go back to the vet for any health concerns. He is playful and as light on his feet as a kitten. I think putting him on the expensive, high-grade special diet food has done wonders for his health. It definitely costs more than feeding him something I can just go pick up at Walmart, but the difference it has made in his health and happiness has been worth it.
Do you believe in love at first sight? I definitely do, because that is exactly what happened with me and my human Clarabelle when we found each other two and a half years ago. Until then, I had experienced a life of heartbreak and false love. My first human family brought me to the shelter when I was just a little kitten. They already had a house full of cats and didn’t want to deal with another crying mouth. Then my next human returned me after only a few months. She was too busy to play with me and left me alone a lot of the time.
I was back in the shelter again, this time for the longest, most miserable stretch of my life. The vets said I needed a special diet that was very expensive, so most humans, even though they were nice to me and cuddled me, didn’t want to take me home with them. I was very sad most of the time. I kept hoping that someone would take me away from the cold, noisy shelter, but they never did. They would play with me and snuggle me until they saw the sign on my cage alerting them to my health problems, and then they would always back away, turning their affection to some other, less expensive cat.
So that’s where I stayed for a long, lonely year, always getting my hopes up and always having my heart broken. Then, one day, after so many days of hoping and waiting, my forever human came. I had been sitting in the lap of one of the shelter workers, and she had been saying kind things to me to keep my spirits up. My forever human spoke to her, asking for a cat that would be cuddly and sweet and all the things that I already was. The shelter worker offered me, and my forever human sat down beside us. She had a soft, gentle voice and a soft, gentle manner, and I knew in that moment I wanted her as my forever human. I had to win her heart before it was too late — I leaped into her lap, throwing my paws around her neck, pressing my face against hers. I purred as loud as I could purr. My human, my human! And she put her arms around me, and I knew from her eyes that she loved me too.
Then came the true test — she saw the warning sign on my cage, the curse of my affliction. She asked about it. They explained. The numbers sent darkness flashing through her face. $80 cat food. Vet bills. Worry. This was the point at which the humans would leave. They would smile hesitantly at me, remove themselves, and walk away. But she didn’t. She held onto me. She kept her arms around me.
photo by Clarabelle Fields
Eventually, she had to let me go. It was nearly closing time, and the adoption window for the day was closed. But I knew from her touch and her cuddles that she had fallen as much in love with me as I had with her. As she was leaving, she saw another woman finding me, leaning over to love me. I had my eyes on my human. She darted back inside, began to pet me again, and said to the other woman: “He’s so sweet, isn’t he? I would love to take him, but his food is so expensive…” Perfect. The other woman made a disgusted face, immediately withdrew. My human hugged me again. She would be back. I knew she would.
The next day dawned more glorious than any other day. She came, my forever human, just like I knew she would. From the other room, I heard the staff saying to her: “Ma’am, we don’t have everything open yet–you’ll have to wait until noon, is that okay?”
And she sat and waited. And waited. And she let everybody know she had come for me, only me.
After the longest wait of my life, which felt longer than the year I had been in the shelter, they brought me out to her, and we were finally together and going home. My human, my human, my human. I finally had a human to call my own, and she was my forever human. I knew she would never leave me or give me up. She snuggled me and cuddled me and gave me a million kisses on my little head. She is still my forever human, and she always will be.
Sir Socks Le Chat 