OMG, my cat scared the hell out of me today. Prone to sleeping on my pillow, she had curled
up in such a way I didn’t realize she was there until I shifted my arm slightly
and felt her fur. Her fur was so cold and
she didn’t seem as if she were breathing.
I shook her, trying to rouse her. She didn’t move. I shook her harder, starting to panic. It wasn’t until she raised her head and gave
me the biggest stink eye that I realized that no, she hadn’t just died on my
pillow. She was just sleeping very deeply. The asshole.
For those of you who have never met my cat, she is old, grumpy,
deaf and fat…and like all cats, is indeed an asshole. Originally owned by a friend of mine, I acquired
her about 2-3 years ago when my friend moved to Colorado. She couldn’t take the cat with her due to her
heightened travel anxiety (the cat allegedly almost died when they tried to
tranquilize her on a previous trip across state lines), and so she came to live
with me.
Shadow (her given name) is a 14 or 15 year old, grey,
short-haired American Tabby. I originally
thought she was named Shadow because of her color, but only found out semi-recently
it is because she instead likes to follow her owner around the house. Although, she is not on my heels at all
times, she is definitely much happier when she can be in the same room. In fact, my daughter tried to get her to hang
out with her in her bedroom this morning.
Shadow was having none of it, howling at my daughter’s door until she was
released.
And oh, yes, the howling.
Although some vets think howling is a sign of dementia, my cat actually
does it because she is deaf. At first we
thought she was just ignoring us (asshole cat, remember), but she doesn’t react
to any noise whatsoever, not even her own.
So unless she is part sphynx….
Anyway, I am convinced she clearly has no idea of how loud she really is
due to said deafness. She still has something to say, however…usually “Where is
my food?” or “Where are you?” or “Clean
out the cat box already, woman.”
But let’s talk about the elephant in the room. And by elephant, I mean my cat. When I first acquired Shadow, we went to visit
the vet. Upon weighing her, the vet said
she was only 11 pounds. Considering I
have bruises from her climbing on me with her tiny little paws, I don’t see how
this is possible. They had to have been
off by at least, I don’t know, 6, 10 or even 50 pounds. She is short with stubby legs and a veritable
cat loaf. She has therefore ceased to be
but a walking Shadow and has instead been renamed Princess Tubbergut. Yes, this is likely on par with fat-shaming
my cat, but my chubby little diva comes by her name honestly. This is her world, she only deigns for us to
live in it.
And yet, I love the little punk. Sure, she exhibits some pretty obnoxious or
quirky traits (like patting my mouth when I am asleep…is she checking to see if
I am still breathing or trying to smother me?
Maybe both.), but she has become a pretty good companion for this single
gal. Due to joint custody, my daughter is
only home every other week. How lovely
to have another tempestuous, outspoken teen in the house with whom to watch Netflix. No, I have no plans on becoming a crazy cat
lady, but sometimes, I really do much prefer Tubbers’ company.
Now you’ll excuse me as I go poke my cat and give her a
snuggle.
Until Next Time, Lovelies….
