Keriosity

I hope you’ll indulge me another blog about pets. This one has pictures!

Gummy started his Prozac yesterday. The good thing about Gummy is that he acts like a dog in many ways. He has no cat ego. One of his dog traits is that he takes pills in a dog food meatball. This is almost unheard of in cats. I know this because I have given pills to approximately 1436 cats. I have personally witnessed 2 cats do this - Gummy and this hyperthyroid cat named Clyde who eats everything, including your finger if you try to give him a pill in the traditional cat technique (shove it down his throat). Luckily for Clyde’s owner and me - Gummy and Clyde eat meatballs.

My sister Tina coined the term “happy meatball” especially for Gummy’s Prozac meatball. It fits. Here he is waiting for his meatball - he is very happy!

He purrs when he eats it. He loves dog food. (This becomes a problem every morning when Milhous gets his breakfast. Remember how I said before that Gummy was slightly retarded? Here’s an example: He doesn’t understand “angry” when it’s being directed at him and doesn’t realize that if he just stops trying to eat what’s in Milhous’ bowl, Milhous won’t bite his belly. In fact, this whore-cat incident is the only thing I’ve ever seen Gummy get angry about. He just doesn’t do anger.) Milhous is not happy about the happy meatball because he knows it’s dog food. He recognizes the can and is utterly beside himself that the cat is getting what’s in the can and he isn’t. Everyone is upset, in fact. The can is pretty big and it will go bad before I can use it all, so what’s the harm? Milhous and Goat each get a little happy meatball, minus the drugs, when Gummy gets his. Daisy doesn’t because she has food allergies. It’s just easier than getting barked at for 10 minutes and having Goat on the kitchen counter searching for meatball remnants.

The patio came out very nice. I put up the garden fencing, supplemented with some trellises and plants here and there in spots that still were still accessible to the whore cat. I found out that her name is “Shadow” and she lives across the courtyard. No wonder she wants to leave her home so often. Shadow?! No offense to those readers who have or have had pets with these names but it’s right up there with Max and Oreo as the least creative pet names. And it totally doesn’t suit her! She’s a sleek Abyssinian! Shadow is for a black cat or a black dog. (btw - Goat came with the name Goat, so that’s not my fault. I wanted to name him Ichabod. We could have called him Icky for short. Gummy is short for Montgomery, keeping with our Simpson’s theme with Milhous and our two departed mice named Patty and Selma - also because of his bad teeth, we thought he’d have to have all his teeth removed at some point. A preemptive nickname.)

Shadow came by this morning while I was taking pictures of the patio and she was very upset about the fence. I saw her owners’ kid around the courtyard a few minutes before, so I had to lay down on the living room floor like a sniper with my water-gun so he wouldn’t see me hunting his beloved cat. Gummy crouched down next to me. I squirted her (gently) in the face, which sent her running. I swore I heard Gummy snicker.

I put up the sensory deprivation window coverings. That makes me sad. Poor kitties. I have been keeping the sliding door open a few inches for a little while in the day because I just feel terrible. They’ve been living in NYC with no view of anything interesting for 3 years. Then they have 3 weeks of seeing trees, flowers, bugs, sky, yes another cat but still…how could I take that away cold turkey? Gummy is very confused. “Why is everything so blurry?”

It will take about a week for the Prozac to start to work. I wonder if he’ll have dry mouth and insomnia like people get. Or vivid dreams - sometimes that’s a side effect. It’ll be so hard to tell because he already drinks a lot (he loves the water bowl for some reason. He puts his toys in there.) and does dream often (his feet and face move). And he snores (another dog-like trait.) Gummy: the retarded, bad toothed, bad hipped, snoring, meatball eating, soggy toyed, snorts when he’s concentrating, purrs when Daisy is getting brushed (he’s happy for her), snuggles with his rawhide donut, play-bites too hard, dog-cat who is stressed-out over feeling angry for the first time ever. How could you not want to do all this to help him?

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Some of Gummy’s pets that have frequented the water bowl: the snake, the octopus, the Rudolf finger puppet, and the rubber mouse (not pictured). The octopus has also visited the food bowl on occasion.

We’ve been here 11 days and I am sure that by now, the neighbors have learned that we are odd. And I can totally see them having daily conversations about “those people in 4022″, but that little quote is getting more detailed as the days wear on.

As previous posts will explain, I’m sure there are conversations about:

• “That mean little dog in 4022″
• “That airhead in 4022 who thinks robbers locked her out of her apartment. Oh and who walks her dog without wearing a bra.”
• “That jerk in 4022 who flies around the complex in his LOUD ferrari” or with some of the older neighbors: “mustang.”

and once we get the Gummy peeing situation under control…there will be a new one.

I saw an ad in our Valupak coupon thingy for Chem-Dry carpet cleaners who have a new urine removal system that is the latest technology in urine removal. I am going to call them and ask them to be discrete in coming here because I can just see them pulling up in a big van that says on the side

“New Urine Removal System! Guaranteed!”

And then we’d become “Those incontinent people in 4022.” That’s the last thing we need. Especially with summer coming and the pool and jacuzzi being right across the street from us. Actually, that might work out in our favor…

(Sunny and 68)

Moving, as you may or may not know - is one of the most stressful events in a person’s life. In fact, experts say that it is the #2 most stressful event. #1 is losing a loved one. That’s pretty stressful! We all deal with stress differently. I choose to become super-busy to the point of forgetting meals, lose sleep because my mind doesn’t shut off, become uber-bitch right at the end of the stressful event, and then have a spa day after the event is over.

Gummy, my sweet little slightly-retarded cat with bad hips, has chosen to pee on the carpet in the new apartment. I like my way better. It’s less smelly.

At first, when we noticed the spots of pee and the nice pile of poop on the carpet - we immediately and angrily blamed the dog. Poor Milhous. He got in all sorts of trouble. And Emil also got yelled at for not walking Milhous early enough that morning. (he gets mornings, I get nights.) As we discovered later, when Milhous was in the dog corral that my dad and I built (with the lattice from previous posting: I can shop again!) and the pee appeared again - it was a cat who did it. And gummy is the most likely suspect, being the less mentally fit of the group. (I saw him do it the next day, too). Man! Cat pee is the hardest odor to remove from anything. We are so upset!

“Inappropriate urination”, as it’s called in a cat, can be caused by a bladder infection, crystals in the urine, or stress. I was hoping it was crystals or an infection or something physical because that’s easier to take care of. Turns out - it’s not. It’s stress and possible litterbox confusion, what with the new litterbox and all. (it’s the exact same litterbox. It’s a mortar mixing tub from home depot. same as in NY.) And what do you do for a cat who is stressed and inappropriately urinating? You give him “behavior modifying drugs”, i.e. prozac or elavil. Antidepressants. For the cat. Because of the move. Because he is stressed out about the move.

Excuse me? He’s not the one who had to quit his job, find a new apartment, LIE about how many pets he has so that he could take the apartment, find a mover who wouldn’t bankrupt him, sell a bunch of stuff, pack all of his remaining stuff, say good-bye to his beloved friends and family, close out his utilities, open all new utilities, buy a new car, ship the car, forward all his mail, change his address with everyone he pays bills to or receives magazines from, figure out how to fly his furry brothers and sister across the country, wait for all his stuff to arrive 10 days later, unpack all of his stuff while having a fever and while his partner is out of town, and then start thinking about how to find a new job and become acquainted with a new place where he’s never lived before. All he had to do is figure out where the new litterbox is and use it! And for this, he needs a prozac.

Right now, I have three litterboxes set up for him. 1 uncovered and in the tub, like in NY (this tub is higher than in NY and with his bad hips, he can’t get in it - so I’ve set up a stool for him. I’m not sure if he will use it.) I uncovered and in the bathroom, I covered and in the laundry room. So far, no more peeing on the carpet but I don’t know which box he prefers because I never catch him using them. I may need to set up a webcam or something.

I think he needs the spa day and I need a big honkin’ prozac. The move I could deal with. This cat pee thing, I’m not so sure about.