BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

When you have geriatric felines you are going to have problems. That is just how it is.

I’m sure you’ve read some of my other blogs where I’ve gone on about having to give insulin to diabetic cats, or running sub-cutaneous fluids into a fleabag with chronic constipation. You’ve likely even read the blog about – and laughed at the picture of – the hemorrhoid cat. So, I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you that I am now lamenting the selective incontinence of one such “kitteh”.

Jasper, or as I like to call him, “the stupid one” – mostly because he’s as dense as a brick – has taken to relieving himself in one corner of our dining room. We stay on top of it, of course. Our house is lived in, not filthy. But, I have to admit, it is a bit of a battle. And, no matter how many chemicals you use to destroy the human detectable odor, the cat can still smell it and returns to that place over and over.

Since I am sequestered away in the office all day, we lock “TSO” and “TFO” (The Fat One) in the basement where the litter boxes are located. Granted, the basement is unfinished so it isn’t exactly plush – which is how E K prefers her dungeon – but, for the kitteh’s sake we do make sure they have their “cat pyramids” and “cat beds” down there. And, since that is where their food dishes are as well, they are all good.

Now, before I get a ration of comments telling me how I need to handle this, or that I am a bad person because I need to take the cat to the vet because he’s trying to tell me he is ill, just put a governor on it and step away from the keyboard. E K and I have been rescuing cats for better than 20 years. We have more than just a little experience in this arena. PLUS, we have, in fact, taken him to the vet. He’s fine. Nothing wrong. No urinary infections, no diabetes, etc. He’s just old and suffering from “I don’t care anymore syndrome.”

So anyway, on with the story. “TSO” will do the same thing in the basement on occasion, meaning he’ll leave a puddle on the concrete floor 10 steps from the litter boxes, just because he can. Fortunately, that is much easier to clean up than the hardwood in the dining room, but I digress.

Just the other day it was raining. Since we live in an old house at the bottom of a hill, in a dip in the road, with all of the property around us sitting higher than us, drainage occurs. See where I’m going with this? When such drainage occurs and the ground is saturated, some seepage also occurs. We don’t get “major flooding” down there, but we get a few puddles and minor streams running toward the floor drain.

On this particular day, the O-spring, fresh off finishing her homework, headed downstairs to take care of the afternoon feline feeding – something that has been added to her list of chores in recent weeks. No more had she gone down into the basement than I heard “Ewwwww! Jasper! That’s disgusting!” Given that I was sitting in the office upstairs doing some work, you know she had to be pretty loud.

The “Ewwws” and scoldings continued for a minute or two, and finally I heard her clomping back up the stairs. The basement door opened, the slammed, and I was greeted with my daughter yelling at me from the bottom of the first floor staircase.

“DADDY! Jasper peed ALL OVER the basement!”

“What do you mean, all over?” I asked.

“He peed EVERYWHERE! There’s only only little places to stand where it’s dry. It’s GROSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

When I finally stopped laughing I called back to her, “Honey, it’s raining. That’s just water from the basement leaking.”

It was quiet for a moment, then I heard a very calm and perfunctory, “Oh.”

Crisis averted. I wonder what she’s going to do the first time she has to change a diaper?

More to come…

Murv

Our cats have this whole pecking order thing going on.

Granted, we are down to only 2 felines after many years of rescuing, hospicing, and otherwise adopting copious numbers of the tuna breathed little flea bags, but this pecking order thing has been going on forever. I suppose it’s sort of like lions and their prides. One of them has to act like he (or she) is in charge, so that’s what happens.

Of course, as attrition takes hold and the population dwindles, there are skirmishes. Bids for power, incumbents, lame ducks… Well, they’re all lame ducks… But, you get the picture. King of the pride goes off to the great kitty condo in the sky, and those left behind go into a free-for-all about which one of them is going to wander the house in the middle of the night bellowing the call of the wild.

All in all, it’s pretty ridiculous. Nothing at all like we human folk handle things.

For instance, just the other day I was fixing dinner and the o-spring yelled for me to leave the refrigerator open. Apparently she needed something in there. What and why, I have no idea. After all, I was the one fixing dinner, not her.

Either way, I had already closed the fridge and was back at my prep work by the time she had yelled. She came into the kitchen, took one look and announced, “I said leave the refrigerator open.”

Of course, my response was, “I don’t take orders around here.”

Without missing a beat the o-spring returned, “Oh yeah? If mommy told you to leave it open you would have. You do everything she says.”

Yeah… I guess we know which Evil Kat won the skirmish.

Now, if you’ll be so kind as to excuse me, I have to go find my earplugs. It’s getting late and the “Domestic Redhair” is going to start her Queen (Bitch) Of The (Whole F*cking Universe) Pride yowling very soon…

More to come…

Murv