Cat pee is something that is easier to deal with if the cat pees on litter. It’s even better if the litter clumps up. Then it’s very easy to clean it up and throw it out. Otherwise, it can be a real pain to clean it up off the floor. I’d recommend tile flooring, even the cheap polyvinyl tile, with a cat and vinegar to clean up their wastes. The floor will get clean and it won’t matter if the cat comes by to inspect and licks the floor afterwards.
It’s also worth noting why cat pee smells so bad. It has a high ammonia content in it. It is much worse from a cat who isn’t fixed and is going through or has gone through puberty. It smells so bad to me that I can’t understand why people think ammonia is a good cleaner.
I’ve always been a loner. When I was young I spent hours playing by myself, and would find my own secret hiding places where I could stay undercover and eavesdrop on my big brother and two little sisters. I liked that they didn’t know me very well but I knew their secrets. You could say I was an introvert, because I spent most of my time observing the world while my brother and sisters spent their time rough-housing. I would sit and think about philosophy and science while my brother would tease us and pick fights all the time. Sometimes the three of us girls would band together to fight back, but he was the biggest and the oldest and before long we decided it wasn’t worth it.
We didn’t have a role model growing up. Our mother wasn’t around much, and we didn’t know our father because he was never home. Some would say that’s sad, but to us it seemed normal. We were just four siblings trying to get by, and we did pretty well on our own, considering.
My big brother was the head of our family. He was strong and athletic, and despite his meanness, my sisters and I looked up to him. As for me, I could run fast and jump like most kids, but I didn’t have much athletic prowess. Still, I admired those who did. My favorite shows to watch on television were sports programs, especially the kind that involved running and jumping. I was always curious about what those track and field stars were thinking about as they sat motionless on the field waiting their turn to sprint and jump as far and as high as they could.
One Saturday I was lying on the sofa watching the Olympics channel and an athlete was being interviewed. He said, “The battles that count aren’t the ones for gold medals. The struggles within yourself—the invisible, inevitable battle inside all of us—that’s where it’s at.” I’ve never forgotten those words, and if you asked me to describe myself today I’d say I’m a deep thinker. A philosopher of sorts. I have dreams that one day I’ll have a big impact on the world.
As I think about it, I lied before. My favorite thing to watch on television isn’t sports. What I really love more than anything is nature programming. Turn on any channel that shows movies and other stuff about the natural world, and you’ve got my attention. Birds. My all-time favorite film is March of the Penguins. I watch it over and over. I’m fascinated by birds, especially ones that can’t fly.
There’s a show on PBS called Nature that’s fantastic too. They do specials on plants, animals, birds, insects…you name it. I saw an episode recently that was all about butterflies. They showed striped caterpillars that spin themselves into a cocoon that’s called a chrysalis. It’s part of a process called metamorphosis. The caterpillars hang upside down from the bottom of a leaf for a week or two inside their chrysalis, and then just like a miracle, they emerge as a monarch butterfly. One of the most beautiful and thrilling experiences is watching these fancy creatures flit and fly about on their newly acquired orange and black wings.
I’ve never been lucky enough to see a monarch butterfly in person, but I hope to one day. I imagine chasing her around the back yard and wishing that I had wings of my own. If I did I’d be an owl. There’s an owl that lives somewhere in the trees behind my house. When I’m awake at night I can hear him who-whooing somewhere far off. Owls are really good hunters, and they do it mostly at night. They silently swoop down on mice and snitch them before they know what hit. Deep down I’m jealous of owls.
I love science too. You might even say I’m a bit of a science geek. My brother teased me about that more than anything, because he said a girl can’t be a scientist. That really made me mad and I decided I’ll show him, so I started studying up. The monarch butterfly is known by scientists as Danaus plexippus, which in Greek literally means “sleepy transformation.” I love, love, love that concept. Franz Kafka wrote a story about it. About going to sleep and then waking up to find oneself transformed into a totally different creature.
I imagine one day taking my afternoon catnap and then waking up to find that my fur is gone, I walk upright on two legs, and call myself Homo sapiens. At long last I’ll be ready to set into motion my secret aspiration to take over the world.
It’s not uncommon for us cats to give our devoted humans gifts of dead animals. I myself have given such gifts to my girl. I know she doesn’t eat animals, so I helped myself to the parts that I like to eat. I gave her the rest. When she saw the gifts, she screamed.
*Sigh.* I hope she understands why I gave her the gifts, but it doesn’t appear she understood at the time. I guess she loves animals in general too much to like any such gifts as those I gave her. I only did it because of how much I adore her.
Kittens are born with their eyes shut. They open them in about six days, take a look around, then close them again for the better part of their lives. —Stephen Baker
According to cats, it is imperative to have an active dream life. It can replace a mundane boring life any time. We have much to learn from cats. In dreams we can be anything and do anything. There are no limits except those we set for ourselves. Real life isn’t always like that.
No amount of time can erase the memory of a good cat, and no amount of masking tape can ever totally remove his fur from your couch. —Leo Dworken
It’s rough when a cat dies. Their memory lives on inside of us. And their hair is just hard to clean up from the furniture without damaging it or damaging a vacuum cleaner. Long live the good cat.
Death is one of the hardest concepts I’ve ever dealt with in my life. I suppose that’s one thing even humans have a hard time understanding. I lost my brother Spitter when he was too young to die. But he did. The blind guy thought it was poison and murder. I have no idea. All I know is that I had lost a brother that I could never have back.
Sometimes I still miss him. I know when we cats die, we leave our physical bodies behind. But our essence lives on. We go somewhere else that is hard to describe to those who are still living. I know that’s not a very good description, but it’s the truth. In some ways, there is an important part of us that never dies. It lives on as the physical body decays and dies. We shed the physical body as if it were old, worn out clothing.
Death is also a separation from our loved ones who are still living in physical bodies. That part I don’t like very well. I could still see those I loved, but without a physical body, they weren’t as likely to see me. That just isn’t fair. My girl was aware of me. She knew I was still around with her. She didn’t mind my presence. She felt as if she had lost her best friend. In a way she did lose her best friend. I don’t know how I became that to her. She doesn’t know either. But in one way, we are still connected to this day. It’s a strong spiritual bond. Once I have a new physical body and we met again, we will know in some respect that we are still friends.
We all die. So, this part shouldn’t be a shock to anyone. It still was to my girl. I think she knew the end could come at some point. We were going to be separated by death. Yet, she didn’t act like she had prepared herself. She just noticed that I was limping. She asked me what was wrong. I honestly didn’t know at the time.
Then she took me to the vet. She stuffed me into a carrier and took me for a walk. Eventually, we got on a bus and went to the vet that way. She told the vet what she had noticed and she voiced her concerns. The vet asked me to walk around the room. As soon as I was free of the cage and everyone, I jumped down to the floor and walked around the room.
I was still limping and not sure what they were going to do to me. Blood was drawn. I don’t remember how much or what for now. But the next morning, I knew it was over for me. I tried to tell my girl. Thankfully, both Spot and Isis left me alone. They had for quite some time now. But my girl was distracted. She got a phone call and tried to talk to me about what I wanted.
She offered to take care of me more than what she had been doing. She was already giving me wet food on demand because I didn’t have enough teeth to eat crunchies anymore. But what she would have to do was beyond that. Yet, I knew it was already too late.
I told her to forget about taking care of me and begged her to kill me. She never really could understand me well when I talked to her. I don’t know why. I could understand her just fine. But this was important. I had to get through to her. I kept repeating my message. Finally she understood and cried.
She realized that I couldn’t move the back half of my body anymore. I had no bladder control. That was embarrassing. She just had to understand that I couldn’t move on my own anymore. It was over for me. I was ready to die, but she didn’t seem to do much at first about my last request.
I know how much she loved me and still does. She was a wreck, but she made some phone calls and before I knew it, she scooped me up in a blanket and carried me out of the apartment. She held on to me while the next door neighbor drove us back to the vet. He dropped us off and she carried me inside.
I was still repeating my request. I didn’t know how much longer it would take. Then we were ushered into an exam room. She set me down on the table. Finally, everyone understood what I wanted. My last request was about to be fulfilled.
The vet rolled me over and shaved my leg. I had become quiet because I knew it was the end for me. Everyone understood what I wanted. My girl held my forepaw. I let her. Normally, I didn’t like so much affection from her, but this was a special time. We were being separated. Really, dying wasn’t so bad except for the fact that my girl was so upset about the whole thing. I knew it was my time to go.
The vet injected the poison into my shaved leg. In a few minutes, my body was dead. Everyone left the room to leave my girl alone with my body. She said nothing to his condolences. I saw her carefully move the blanket out from under my body. She no longer wanted my body. She knew I wasn’t inside it anymore. My eyes had become glassy. My body was lifeless.
She sighed. She held the blanket close to herself and walked out of the examination room. She sat down in the lobby and called the neighbor to come get her. Everyone was kind to her. I was a spirit and I didn’t want to leave my girl. I sat down next to her. She knew I was there, but said nothing to me. No one else saw me or knew my spirit was nearby.
Soon the neighbor came and took her back to the apartment. She stepped inside and locked herself in with Spot and Isis. They didn’t know where I was. I didn’t come back in the physical form with my girl. I was free of my physical body and I was still with my girl. I’m not sure they could see me. Isis was quiet. Too quiet as far as I knew. But my girl knew I was there.
Spot, was a different story. My girl sat down on the bed and set the blanket down on the floor. He came over and yelled. He was mad that I was gone. He ate what little hair of mine was left on the blanket. But my girl was silent. She couldn’t respond to Spot at that time.
I stayed with them. I watched my girl. I loved her so much and I still do. I saw her watch “Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince” over and over again. Towards the end, when Dumbledore tells Harry he’s not well, my girl cried and cried and cried. It was awful to watch. I couldn’t believe how much in shock and how painful it was for her to have me die when I did.
Eventually, she stopped crying. She told me she’d be fine and that I should just go ahead and move on. I deserved to have another life. So, I crossed the rainbow bridge hoping that I would meet my girl again in my next life.
My girl notes that I died three days after her birthday in 2010. She wasn’t happy about it, but she coped. She still had Spot and Isis living with her. I could see the three of them without me. Spot learned to accept that I wasn’t coming back as the cat who had raised him. Isis and I didn’t know each other very well. She had been living with us for just one year.
My girl used to tease them and complain that it was too quiet without me. Spot didn’t say anything. He wasn’t much of a talker. Isis tried to make up for my lack, but she wasn’t loud enough as my girl told her. Besides, Isis was much too happy to be me. She laughed and was just as silly as my girl was.
As I crossed the rainbow bridge, I could see in spite of my girl’s pain and sadness at our separation, she would be fine. She was not alone. I took a deep breath and finished crossing the bridge.
As I was crossing the bridge, I soon discovered I wasn’t alone. The fairies soon appeared all around me. They were happy to see me. I was glad to see them too. They complimented me on helping the witch stick to her better self. She had become very selfless as she needed to. The fairies flitted and danced around me. I was sad that I had to leave my family, but glad I wasn’t alone either.
It was time for another adventure. This time I would have more choices to make. My girl was right. She knew it was my choice and she didn’t want me to worry about her. It wasn’t her time to cross the bridge yet. I just hoped we would meet again someday.
I got to the other side and was soon joined by Isis. I was shocked to see her. She was just as shocked as I was. She told me our girl had told her to go on and get another life. It wasn’t fair what had happened to her.
Isis had become sick after I had died. She told me, she was shocked by what had happened to me. That shock must have triggered the dormant illness inside of her. She died about a month after me from feline leukemia. The same vet who had killed me killed her too. Isis said she wasn’t ready, but our girl petted her and calmed her down. Without our girl, Isis said she would not have been able to cross the rainbow bridge.
Isis wasn’t sure what was happening with our girl and Spot. We both worried. I told Isis, we had to move on without them for now. I stressed there was a chance that we would meet them again someday. I didn’t know if they would be in the same or in different bodies. But when we did meet them, we would recognize them and know they are still our friends.
We’ve been inseparable ever since. I don’t regret my life or my adventures. I just wish Isis had a much longer life as I was blessed to have. I don’t think it’s fair.
Isis was much too young to die. She wasn’t a middle aged cat. I thought it was an outrage. But I didn’t leave her. I told her I’d look out for her in this spirit realm. She accepted my help. She was glad she wasn’t alone. I was also glad to have a friend in this new world besides the fairies.
*******************
If you’re wondering how I could write my memoirs and have a Twitter account, the answer is simple. My girl and I were never completely separated. We could still sense each other and talk to each other because of the strong, long lasting bond between us. Yes, I have moved on. But I still love my girl very much. I always will. I know she will always love me just as much too.
This month’s cat vocabulary is a term from Twitter known as the rainbow bridge. It’s an expression used for a cat who has died. They say the cat has crossed the rainbow bridge.
It is a good euphemism to explain what has happened. The cat’s body is dead. No one will argue that. But where does their spirit, their soul, their essence of their being go? Over the rainbow bridge to their next life or even an afterlife. The cat we knew is no longer hindered by a physical body.
It’s always heartbreaking to have a cat die. I’ve gone through it three times already. Yet, I can’t live without a cat. So, I may end up going through it another hundred times. I was with all three cats when they died. I helped them cross the rainbow bridge.
It was the least I could do for such wonderful companions. When they died, there wasn’t much more I could do for any of them. I couldn’t stop death from claiming them. I just hoped they have long, healthy, and happy lives while they live with me.
I see we now have quite a few email subscribers now. For that I am a happy cat. Although with my original mission of this magazine, I don’t think it’s quite enough. I still want to support animal charities and pay the writing staff and others for their contributions to my magazine.
To do that, I need your help. Of course one of the biggest ways to support without money is by spreading the word and telling others how much you like my magazine. If you can’t afford to support us with money, then you can also order any of the books via your local library. If your library has Overdrive, I’d recommend the free Libby Overdrive app to read the books anywhere you find yourself.
If you are able, you may buy copies of the Cat Tales books listed on our Cat Tales page. Some books support specific charities or the actual writers. If a charity is supported, it is listed in the book’s description. Or you may sign up to make a regular donation every month via my girl’s Patreon account. The lowest tier is US$5 per month. Depending upon which tier you choose, you might be able to influence the content of this magazine. I know my girl will take any requests seriously and do her best to make them a reality.
In case you’re wondering, when you support my girl you also support me, Sir Socks. Unfortunately cats don’t usually have money. My girl tends to have more than I do and doesn’t mind sharing with me.
Keep focusing on the good things, Mommy,
focus on me--
months ago I sang the same song
to lull you to sleep
while you had bad dreams,
the human world big and terrible
and cold and mean
Focus on the good things, Mommy,
focus on me--
my little pink toes in the sunshine,
radiant whiskered reverie
Focus on the good things, Mommy,
focus on me--
my morning mews and tiny face
ready to smile and sing
Focus on the good things, Mommy,
focus on me--
running close behind you
diving into sunbeams
It's hard outside
but we can be happy here
you and me
Focus on the good things, Mommy,
focus on me--
Keep focusing on the good things, Mommy--
Keep focusing on me
I'll sing for you
until it's safe
to dream
Sir Socks Le Chat 