Cats and Aging

I've read plenty of articles that say that owning a pet can prolong your life.

And then I laugh.

If you are reading this, chances are pretty good either: 1) you are my mother, or 2) you own a pet.
And if you are a pet owner, (yes, that means you too Mom) then the idea that our pets make us live longer is almost laughable.  Let's examine the facts:

1) I am convinced my cat is trying to kill me.  Simon has found so many ways to be RIGHT in harm's way when I'm walking down a dark stairwell, bent over a hot oven, or exercising.  One would think after having his tail stepped on numerous times, or having his paws pinched in a door, or being squished because I can't plank with a cat under me, that he would know better.  He's stupid or he has a strategy.  I would like to think he's probably just stupid, but as many times as he has gotten away with the numerous bad things he does, I think he's pretty clever.  So that means he is trying to off me.  And that sucks.

2) When my cat is sick it takes years off my life.  Either I am freaking out because he's lost weight because he's a picky eater, he's fallen off the second story ledge AGAIN, or his stinky breath makes me imagine he has gum disease which will lead to serious illness and ultimately, death.  All of these scenarios are terrifying. Despite him being a pain in my ass, he's so cute.  And after losing three cats over the years, I'm not in any hurry to do so again.  It's expensive and it sucks.

3) If I am late it is usually my cat's fault.  I don't know how many times I've gotten ready to go somewhere and Simon will follow me to the door to say goodbye.  This leads to me mentally double-checking if he's been fed.  So I have to go back and feed him.  And am I the only one who pauses when leaving to count cats?  I need to take inventory to be sure no one of my three cats is locked outside on the porch or stuck in a closet.  So that can lead to me searching the house and unless they are all napping together, chances are this takes another 5 minutes off my ETA.  Perhaps I'm ready to go but have a cuddly kitty on my lap.  He cannot be disturbed!  I do hate to be late.  Being late makes me anxious.  Being anxious is bad for your health.

4)  My cat likes to destroy things or choke on them.  Everyone knows cats love puzzles = anything perched on a flat surface. When he breaks a "puzzle" I can't just leave without cleaning it up. Additionally, he seems to know exactly what time I'm leaving and does the "gag trick".  You just can't walk out when your pet is choking!! Once I catch him to investigate, I find a wad of towel paper in his mouth, or dental floss, my medicine, or whatever he can dig out of the trash.  I have to jam my fingers into his mouth and extract the funk leading him to bite me and draw blood.  Necessitating bandaids.  Or contemplating if I could do cat CPR.  Both of these make me anxious.  See conclusion in item #3 above.

5)  Every time I take a nap he wakes me up.  This may not seem like a big deal, but as any woman who has any fatigue can tell you, momma takes naps very seriously.  When I'm down, he decides once I've just entered REM sleep that's the ideal time to leap directly onto my solar plexus and dig at me with his paw knuckles.  This is a startling experience.  Not healthy.

I'm sure the articles I've read suggesting my pet is prolonging my life are referring to elderly sedate animals.  Not my cute monster who has been a kitten for three years.  But if I pause to consider my life without my hilarious, ungrateful, adorable, stinky little heartbreaker, I just can't imagine it. I'm trading a little of my time for his.  And that's okay with me.

Why We Talk Baby Talk to our Kitties

For 27 years I've been a cat owner and lover, and despite having ACTUAL humans that I've given birth to that know my real voice isn't that high, I still persist in talking "baby talk" to my cats.  It's not that they can't understand me if I don't.  I know this by their immediate response when my husband bellows at them because they are shredding the furniture with their claws or they've just been caught drinking from the cereal bowl at the table while he stepped away or they just speed away from a room looking guilty based on his tone.  But with me it's different.  Their response to most of my inane questions ("Whatsa little floofy doing?  Hmm? You cleaning your paws?? Aww WOOK at dose tiny paws") is usually a flat stare and sometimes I get a vague "meow" if I repeatedly ask questions.  My reward for my persistence can sometime rise to the level of an affectionate slow blink or even a significant meow.

When my kids were small, I read somewhere that babies respond vocally more frequently to a female voice, perhaps due to the higher pitch and because they've been in that snuggly uterus listening to a mommy babble.  Maybe aurally-speaking (is that possible?)  this is their preferred parent from the start.   I figure that if my kids love to hear me babble, so will my cats.  Duh. And now my kids are all grown, I still have the need to nurture my kitties like babies, often carrying them down stairs, holding them like babies, and allowing one presumptuous feline to knead at me for hours because he thinks I may have a milk source somewhere in that soft blanket I have on.

And guess what?  My cats DO listen to me when I address them in my falsetto mommy voice.  Often when I speak to them it's to clarify whether they do indeed see that bird, did they just make stinky in the box, do they know they don't belong on that counter, and did they find their ball?  I can tell they're listening because they look directly at me and squeak.  I don't get full throated meows unless I have accidentally closed the door on a kitty who wants out (or in...and then out...or in), or if it's the middle of the night and they are vocalizing the sounds of their tribe.  I have one kitty who tries to talk, and, God love him, he really has something to say.  But it's more as if he just has a noisy exhale...mouth fully open and he leans in, and nothing.  Just a ghost meow squeak.


I noticed I'm not the only animal lover who talks baby talk to her fur babies.  Most of my friends and relatives have dogs, cats, even fish that they denigrate with their matronizing tones.  As if the pets can't understand us or identify us with our true voices.  But there's just something so natural about being a "high talker" when you have a dependent living creature that makes eye contact with you when you address them in this way.  And satisfying.  Using my everyday conversational tone which I might use to call my friends with, just isn't the same when I'm addressing my cats.  Admit it.  You do it too.

Now if only they could actually "speak"  then perhaps I might shut up.  But until my cats form words, I will continue to babble away, nonsensical, because I think they like it.  And because they are my babies.  Yes they are.  Who are my babies?  Gitchy gitchy goo...

The Lion in my Living Room

The other day my daughter suggested I see a Netflix video titled "The Lion in Your Living Room."  It was a documentary about cat behavior and how our domesticated fluffy companions have descended  and evolved from their big cat ancestors.

This was an amusing idea to me because sometimes I feel that humans are the ones who evolved and adapted to cats as opposed to the reverse.  Take my husband, for example.  He wasn't always a "cat person" (not all guys are eager to admit they are for some reason even if it's true) but now he is a bonafide cat lover.  Of course he has no choice because I subject him to the rigors of cat ownership and make him watch endless YouTube videos on cats.  My hubby realized it was easier to succumb to the cuteness of cats than insist upon his independence which is intolerable to cats.  The best way to get a cat to love you is to ignore them.  And I think in his case, it has paid off mightily.

We have one particular cat, Pepper, who isn't named that simply because of her looks.  She has a prickly personality and will only tolerate you in small doses.  Pepper would prefer to do a bobcat impression and hiss and spit at you rather than cuddle and adore you as most pets should.  In Pepper's defense, it's probably our fault she is such a little sh*t as we have been her owners since she was three weeks old and was socialized poorly (i.e. we didn't worship her adequately or teach the other cats to succumb to her greatness).  But out of the 7 cats we've owned, I've never had such an ornery and stubborn cat.  She has adopted one member of the household, and other than being fed, she refuses to acknowledge other humans or cats as her equal.  It only takes one moment for her to turn on you when she deigns to present her belly for rubbing, and then hears any noise, seriously, and run away.  A friend of mine has labeled her "one eye Pepper" because you more often see her backside as she runs off that a full cat sighting.  In terms of adapting and evolving, Pepper didn't get the memo on being a human companion or investing herself in the relationships that surround her.  Our other two cats might approach Pepper carefully for a sniff, and she retreats quickly or bats at them with her paw like an insulting face slap as if they were cat perverts.  Our cats just look at me after getting smacked as if to say "was it something I did?"  I can only reassure them that Pepper is so very sensitive, she doesn't need an excuse to work her magical charms at defensive hissing and/or scratching.

Remember I did say she has adopted one of us as her owner, and thank goodness it's my daughter who will eventually move away and take Pepper with her.  For some reason, Pepper feels safe only in her company and will happily submit to any number of indignities at the hands of this human. Whether it be her monthly claw trimming, or just being manhandled and juggled around like a stuffed toy, my daughter can do nothing to offend Pepper.  Yet Pepper appears twice daily for me to feed her and offer her culinary sacrifices such as Liver and Chicken pate or catnip flavored treats. She will then look at me with disgust at my meager offering and run away.  Or she will eat hers and any portion I have left for another cat.  Either way, she is entitled to this rude behavior because I have enabled it.  But how does one nurture a nasty kitty and teach it to be loving and kind?  I give up because I'm not about to call a cat psychic or the cat specialist and be trained on the art of submitting my dignity to this annoying cat.  Like I said, I love cats, but Pepper pushes the envelope in my home and makes the idea of a dog more attractive.

To all of you out there who have adopted and rescued a cat only to be treated with ingratitude and an aloof demeanor, you know how I feel.  The least these cats can do is sit on our lap or beside us once in awhile to make us feel like the generous hosts we are to their inexplicable ungraciousness.  *sigh*

Or we can recognize that not all cats have adapted and still expect to be worshipped as an Egyptian God.  I guess Pepper is waiting for her big debut on a tomb somewhere as the hieroglyph she aspires to be.  Stinker.

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