This month’s cat vocabulary is a term from Twitter known as catitude also known as cat attitude. I’m sure anyone who knows cats know they have an attitude. Many people have complained about it. While those of us who love cats unconditionally rave about their attitude.
Cats are bold and brave. They aren’t afraid to deal with the world on their own terms. They don’t care what our terms are. They just take us as they find us. They tend to ignore us when they don’t want to deal with us at the moment.
At other times, they want our undivided attention. Yet, in spite of all this, no one can deny cats have real attitude.
We cats do a lot of purring. I know humans have wondered why and they like to study us. They can with our permission. Don’t ever forget that. I find it’s easy to purr when someone knows how to pet me just right. Of course they like to stop before I’m ready for them to and I tell them to keep petting me.
Then there was a time when I couldn’t purr. It wasn’t good. Apparently I had developed a heart murmur and my girl could hear it. She said nothing to me about it. I did hear the vet mention it. The vet thought that I had lost a heart valve. So, for a while I couldn’t purr.
My girl continued to take care of me and give me lots of love. And you know what? She’s full of healing energy and she doesn’t mind sharing it whether it leaks out or not. Some of it spilled over into me and eventually I was able to purr again.
I still had the heart murmur, but at least I could purr again and continue to get better or at least not get any worse. I had missed purring. It’s something I like to do whenever I meditate.
My girls says she heard one of my brothers also had a heart murmur. So perhaps that part was genetic. I just feel grateful to my girl for helping me to heal and to purr again.
I have to admit that I didn’t want to have anything to do with my girl when we had first met. The moment I saw her, I knew she was a whirlwind. So, I kept running away from her. She kept coming back and talking to the blind guy. Before I realized what was happening, she was cleaning up our water and food bowls and filling them up! I knew it was her. I could smell her.
Then my brother told me how kind and gentle she was. He was lonely once when she had walked past him. He had begged her to pet him. I wasn’t so brave as to ask someone I didn’t know to pet me. She petted him and he loved her for it. He couldn’t stop talking about her and telling me how wonderful she was.
I do have manners. I know I’m a curmudgeon, but I still have manners. So, I thanked her for taking care of our food and water bowls. I had no idea then how important she would become to me. It was simply a matter of time. Things were set. But tragedy stuck. First my brother died. The blind guy suspected someone had given my brother poison.
He was much too young. I miss him so much. He was my constant companion from birth. It just wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t have died then. But he did.
But that wasn’t the end of the tragedies. The blind guy went and fell in love with my girl’s mother and then he went away. I found myself all alone at the house. But my girl came and looked after me. I was hoping she would just move in with me and we could live happily ever after. I was thinking and dreaming about how it would be with her. It was at that point that I knew she would take good care of me and would be the best caregiver and caretaker I could ever ask for.
But that’s not how it went. I remember she had asked me if I wanted to live with her. I had told her of course. But I thought she was going to move in with me. I didn’t find out my error until a few days later. She and some guy friend of hers came. I refused to leave my only home. Really, it wasn’t fair at all. They should have understood that.
Before I had realized what had happened, I was trapped in a room with no way out. The guy talked to me and had me cornered. I didn’t know what to do. My girl was in the room too, but she was distant and quiet. The guy stuffed me into a box and he carried me out. He put me into a car and both of them came along. Then we went for a ride.
I hate to travel unless I’m the one moving. No cars for me. No putting me into boxes. I absolutely hate it. I had been tricked! It was one of the worst moments of my life. No one seemed to care how upsetting this was for me. I really had thought she was going to move in with me. But no.
They both had a hard time catching me. I had lived there my entire life. I was born in the backyard. Didn’t they care about that? Probably not. They were just trying to catch me!
I was tricked. How dare they! I am a cat and this was an injustice. So, I complained the whole trip. I only got quiet after I had found myself in a strange place. As soon as I was released from the cage, I quickly found a place to hide. That was the only thing I could do. I hid in the closet surrounded by her clothes. They smelled of her.
So, for a long time I was quiet. I didn’t know what else was going to happen. I don’t even know how long I hid in the closet. I just knew that they both had left me alone in a strange place. She was the only one who came back later. She called me.
I slowly and cautiously came out and looked around at the new place. I didn’t know what to think. She was kind and encouraging to me. She showed me the litter box. She picked me up and set me down quickly and gently in it. I didn’t need to use it then, so I stepped out of it. She had picked me up— I hate to be picked up! She pointed out my food and water bowls.
photo taken by Ali Noel Vyain
She was gentle with me. But I hate to be picked up! She did learn that eventually, but she still did it. *Sigh.* Don’t get me wrong. I love my girl unconditionally, but sometimes she does things I don’t like. And that was just one of them.
So she had at least thought that far ahead to provide me with a litter box. It didn’t take me long to learn that she wasn’t going to let me outside. I asked her often, but she refused to open the door for me. I was trapped inside with her! This new place was still strange and much smaller than my first home.
At least the guy who had caught me wasn’t here. And if he came by to visit, I always hid from him. I never wanted to have anything more to do with him. So, you can imagine my shock when I learned he funded my online magazine. Ugh… I still don’t like him, but I thank him for the support. My girl tells me he likes cats. Perhaps he does. But I still don’t like him because he had tricked me.
No new changes for the magazine or even our backup site.
Here’s the rundown for May:
no money in or out
over 1281 hits on the blog
about 659 people get the posts emailed to them
30 people follow via WordPress
66 copies sold; US$471.50 raised for Dingo Venezia from Cat Tales of the Frisky9 Scarf Army
Disclaimer: the staff writers here are not vets nor are they qualified to give medical advice. This article’s purpose is strictly to share stories/information 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.
As Julius reminded us this month, most cats consider themselves to be tigers or some other kind of large, majestic feline. And it is only fitting for tigers and lions and other big cats to explore and climb and run all over their territory. It’s good for cats to explore various parts of their house — it gives them good exercise and entertainment — but they can also risk injuring themselves and their precious little paws during their journeys through kitchens, cabinets, and other spaces.
Common sources of injury could include: burns from hot stovetops, twisted paws/ankles from slipping and falling, chemical burns (and potential poisoning/digestive problems) from stepping in household cleansers (and then licking it off). It’s important that pet parents check their house carefully to make sure there aren’t any dangers that gallivanting felines might get their paws involved in. As always, it’s best to try to prevent accidents and injuries from happening rather than having to treat them later.
Good practices to follow include:
Being watchful of hot stoves. Don’t let your cat in the kitchen while you’re cooking. Pay attention so that they don’t run across the stove while the burners are cooling off.
Consider removing tablecloths, table runners, and other coverings that could potentially make tables and countertops slick and that your cat could accidentally get tangled/caught in.
Restrict your cat’s access to high places, especially if your cat likes to climb. Banisters are of particular risk, since it’s very possible your cat could slip and fall from such a great height.
Keep household cleansers and other caustic substances locked away and out of your cat’s reach. Watch your cat carefully whenever you use these substances to make sure your cat does not accidentally step in them, especially if you are cleaning floors, bathtubs, etc.
Despite our best efforts, however, sometimes accidents do happen, and our little ones hurt their paws. In these cases, it’s important to treat the injuries properly and then to follow up with veterinary care if necessary. In the event of burns to the paws, especially chemical burns, wash your cat’s paws well with cold water and then wrap the paws in gauze. If the burns are severe, be sure to take your cat to a vet for treatment. Infection is always a concern whenever the skin is injured or broken. In the case of your cat having slipped and fallen from somewhere — this can especially happen if cats get caught in tablecloths — they could have severe bruising, a sprain, or even a broken bone. You will likely need to take your cat to the vet for a physical exam and x-rays to assess the injury, especially if the cat is crying out in pain, is limping, or if a paw/limb is visibly swollen or otherwise injured. If this happens, try to wrap your cat securely in a towel to make them more comfortable and stable during transport to the vet.
Hopefully, your cat will be a wise enough tiger to avoid getting themselves into scrapes and messes, but it never hurts to be on the safe side and know what to do in case your beloved house panther hurts a paw.
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.
When I play with my cat, who knows if I am not a pastime to her more than she is to me? —Montaigne
Cats are not humans. They don’t think like us. They can act differently from us. So, it’s a wonder what they think of us when we interact with them. We may never really know what the cat is thinking. Does it matter whether we completely understand cats and know what they think of us?
After scolding one’s cat one looks into its face and is seized by the ugly suspicion that it understood every word. And has filed it for reference. —Charlotte Gray
Cats do understand us perhaps better than we understand them. They have a way of communicating with us that is very clever. I’ve learned about how well cats can talk and how well they can understand us from Sir Socks Le Chat. He trained me so well that I don’t tend to have trouble with cats now. He taught me how to talk to him and he was able to figure out how to talk to me so that I would understand him.
This month’s cat vocabulary is the term feline paralysis which is the condition in which a person is unable to move due to a the presence of a cat on her or his lap. Any reasonable crazy cat person will not move or try to get up whenever there is a cat on their lap.
It’s just the way it is. The cat rules and knows it. The cat knows when they take it too far and when they don’t. While the crazy cat person puts up with the cat’s antics all the time.
Who wouldn’t want a purring cat on their lap? Especially when they don’t feel well?
As a cat, I know about hunting. I used to do it. That was when I was young and could take care of myself without any trouble. As I got older, I tended to lose some teeth and my claws became brittle. Once my girl clipped my back claws and they weren’t clean breaks. I told her never to do it again.
She didn’t after that. She did try to say it was the ultimate in cat pampering. But after I told her not to do it anymore, I think she understood there was something wrong with my claws.
Well, I liked to hunt. It was my way to assert my independence of humans. I never had any trouble catching mice and eating them. Humans tended to find it disgusting that I would eat mice. I don’t know what their problem is. Those humans eat animals too. My girl doesn’t eat animals and she understood whenever I ate a mouse.
Or even a bird. She didn’t like the gifts I left her, but she is a vegetarian. At least she understands that I need to eat animals. I don’t think she needs to. In fact, she seems to think it will make her sick if she were to eat them.
So, I’ve had lots of mice in my time. And a few birds. There was one bird who got angry with me for eating a couple of birds. If my girl wasn’t around, I don’t know what I would have done. She rescued me from getting pecked.
*Sigh.* I no longer hunt because I cannot. I sometimes miss it, but I’m so well taken care of now that I am okay without it. I feel blessed that a vegetarian understands and knows what I need to stay healthy and that’s what she gives me. So, I’ve learned to live without it and just pretend on occasion that I’m hunting and stalking prey when in reality I’m off to my food bowl my girl has filled up. She finds the scenes I make quite amusing.
It seemed to take forever to become an adult. But it was worth it. I was quite the cat before I had met my girl. I could come and go as I pleased. In an out of a house. I didn’t have a litter box. Whenever I needed to relieve myself, I went outside and buried it all. It was better than having a litter box. I didn’t have to worry if someone was going to clean up after me. I had already taken care of that part.
Life was good as far as I was concerned. My brother Spitter was still alive and we would get into a few fights here and there. It’s what brothers and cats do. We never hurt each other. We just had arguments and disagreements. But we always made up afterwards. It wasn’t a bad house. The backyard with the woodpile was even better unless another cat came along who shouldn’t have been there.
Then, well, there’d be a fight for the territory. Spitter and I were here before the strange cats were. So, we defended our turf. Sometimes the fights got bad. This was the way it was where I’m from. Sometimes I ran into dogs when I was out and about. I don’t like dogs. Some are just plain mean. And the ones who aren’t mean, well, I still don’t want to have anything to do with them. My girl thinks I’m a bit prejudice against dogs, but she never blamed me for it. I think she understood why I feel the way I do about dogs.
I never thought anything of the fighting when it was happening. It was the way life was for me. Why question it? As long as the status quo wasn’t getting challenged, I had no reason to think about anything changing. Well, people still came and went out of the house, that didn’t change. The blind guy was the only constant human.
I’m sure if you look at my pictures, you’ll see it’s obvious that I’ve been in a few bad fights. Not with my brother, but other cats. We fought over territory. One fight was so bad, I lost part of my right ear. Look closely and you’ll see it’s notched. It was whole when I was a kitten.
But I didn’t stay a kitten for long. I grew up fast and became quite the cat. I didn’t approach strange humans. Who knew if they all could be trusted. Some were plain mean and had no qualms about torturing cats. Best to avoid all unknown humans altogether and just stick with the few who can be trusted. It’s been my way and it works for me.
So, there’s the story of my ear. I never grew it back. I never told my girl how it happened. But I remember what happened to my ear…
Of course it was a territorial dispute. These things happen where I’m from and when cats are allowed to go outside. If you’re an indoor cat, you don’t need to worry about it as much. Unless the human who’s taking care of you decides to bring home another cat or even more. Then you have to establish order pretty quickly. I was lucky with my girl. She was smart enough to stay out of it. She let us figure it out on our own when she had brought home another cat.
Not that we would have given her much of a choice about the matter. She would have to live with us and the order we established. She is a smart one. Even when she had caught me arguing with another cat she didn’t know, she knew to stay out of it. It’s just one of the many reasons why I love her so much.
So, it was a territorial dispute. We argued and couldn’t reach any kind of agreement. Things escalated. I wasn’t about to back down. This was my home. It was the only home I had ever known. This newcomer had to understand that. But he didn’t care. He wanted to be the alpha cat.
So we duked it out. We screamed. We wrestled. Tousled and raved. We threw punches. We used our claws. We used our teeth. Still the fight went on. Perhaps I don’t remember all the details clearly now. I am an old cat, what did you expect from me? A perfect and clear memory of every little event in my life? That cat did bite my ear. I didn’t realize how bad it was until long after he had gone.
I don’t even know now who won that fight. But I can tell you it was that fight that cost me a piece of my right ear. It’s obvious in the pictures my girl took of me. It just took that one time. It wasn’t the only fight I had been in. But it certainly was the most memorable one.
She never mentioned the loss of part of my right ear to me. She just loved me and took care of me. For that, I can’t complain. She was a good learner. I had to tell her everything. She had never taken care of a cat before me. It was much more than filling up my water and food bowls. If she wasn’t so willing to learn, I think I would have died from embarrassment.
But she was great. She has improved over time. She was good for me in more ways than I have been willing to admit. She was such a whirlwind that assured me I never had to fight like that after we lived together.
Sir Socks Le Chat 