Cat Days of Summer

When asking someone to do you a favor, there's always a risk that it will come back and bite him or her in the butt... or the arm. And by him or her, I mean the person doing the favor for you.

When you have cats, you always need a favor. I'm guessing you can see where this is going.

Every few years we go on a vacation that requires us to call in the cat-sitting reinforcements. Unfortunately (for them) our cat-sitter is always an unpaid family member. 

The allure of the domesticated cat is their self-sufficient nature that seldom requires more than food, water and poop-scooping.  That is, if you own a cat other than Fat Linda or Lorenzo. 

Fat Linda and Lorenzo are unparalleled idiots that actively try to terrorize our house. Lorenzo has a personality disorder; he alternately demands affection then bites you without provocation.  He also beats Fat Linda daily.  When we are out of town, all his most extreme traits flare up.  He is angry that we left him and demands that the cat-sitter should magically turn herself into us. When that doesn't happen, he stalks her through the house, hissing and waiting for an opportunity to attack.

Two years ago, I got a call from my cat-sitting sister while we were vacationing in another state.  She said she was sitting on our couch minding her own business, when Lorenzo walked up and demanded her attention.  She gently eased him away, only to be viciously bitten on her arm.  This of course set off a rage bomb in her body.  She chased him through the house wanting to do him serious harm. Since he has under-bed hiding skills, he narrowly escaped death.  

Unfortunately, cat bites are the most nasty, bacteria-infused afflictions known to man (and woman). At the time of the call, she could no longer feel her left hand and the red streaks racing up her arms signaled an issue.  

She asked me what she should do.  I told her to get to the doctor. Little known fact: there is a protocol for animal bites at the doctor's office.  A form must be completed that requires you to identify the perpetrator.  From there, the offender gets reported to Animal Control.  

Animal Control called me the next day to tell me my cat was in violation of the no-biting humans law.  I was told I had to take him in to my vet's office for a mandatory 10-day quarantine.  Since I was on vacation, I told him the only person who was available to transport crate-hating animal was the very person who was attacked.  Luckily I was speaking with a logical person who understood that would not work.  We were able to sidestep the quarantine and were held off with the promise that I would take him in when I returned home.  The vet didn't seem too alarmed by his tendency to attack.

I had to take him back to that office a few months ago when he wouldn't stop trying to murder Fat Linda.  They suggested I give him Prozac.  I told them I'd think about it.  I'm still thinking about it.

Back to present day... now that the cat-sitter subscribes to the "once bitten, twice shy" adage, she is prepared to defend herself against the sudden attacks of the needy cat.  During this vacation she had to beat him off with a foam sword when he started to stalk her. She also had to clean up all the cat vomit he contributes on a regular basis.  Luckily he hasn't taken to peeing on the bath mats lately.

Then there is the other cat.  Fat Linda dissolves into a blubbery ball of panic when she thinks no one will arrive in time to feed her.  Most non-vacation days, her addled mind is cunning enough to fool different members of our family into feeding her multiple times each mealtime.  

On one of the days, the cat-sitter arrived to find Fat Linda had managed to get into the cabinet and spill 20 pounds of cat food on the floor before she sat down to a feast of proportions she could only have dreamed of in the past. As I type this, she is perched on my left with her face four inches from mine, trying to employ mind control.  Feed me again...

So what's to be done?  I honestly can't think of a way to improve this situation. Maybe I should invest in one of those dog training suits where the dog bites your arms, but you can't feel it.  It will be part of a required uniform for cat-sitters who enter my house.  It would certainly be cheaper than a 10-day vet quarantine.

Like this:

It seems like this whole blog is an ongoing advertisement for cat ownership.  In order to be balanced, I will say that Lorenzo has really cute paws and Fat Linda has a pretty face.  

I've just used up my positive cat thoughts for the day.  Maybe Lorenzo and I should split a Prozac prescription...

This action photo took some serious dedication.

This photo took no dedication at all.