Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Things that make me say hmmmm
I understand that humans are a more refined species than say, cats or dogs. We walk upright; we shake hands instead of sniff bottoms; we eat food that has been cooked and made to look pretty; we walk around, instead of roll in, really stinky stuff, and we, for the most part, don't like to throw up.
Still, I can't for the life of me understand why a 16 year old cat who's main objective in life is to eat and sleep, and who can no longer leap tall buidlings or make it to the top of a table without a lot of head bobbing and a good dose of "I think I can" will attempt to climb the cat equivalent of Mt. Everest just to nibble on a house plant that he knows is going to act as an instant emetic. He risks life and limb for a green treat that immediately comes right back up. What's that' all about?
Recently I brought in a plant that had been residing outside and needed some TLC. I trimmed off the brown parts, replanted it into a perky little pot, gave it a good drink of water, then set it in the living room in a fit of feng shui. Not that I even know what that is, except that I think it has to do with adding an earthy element to one's home. This plant seemed to fit the bill.
I'm aware of the cat's desire for things green, so I did this shui-ing behind his back. I thought to myself how often does the cat even go in the living room? Unless he's out to torment the dog by getting within a whisker's breath of the rawhide bone residing in the middle of the carpet, the cat usually takes another route to and from the litter box. However, acting as if he might take a chomp out of something so totally a dog's domain is not out of the realm of this particular feline's cat-itude. As I placed the plant on top of the CD chest, I smugly told myself that he would never even know it was there.
Wrong! The next day I was enjoying a rare quiet moment, when in strolled the gray one. He stopped right in front of me, as if he didn't want me to miss a thing. He then proceeded to retch in a very catlike way; not a quiet, hard to notice, petite regurgiation, but a full-fledged, stomach-turning-inside-out gagging with the sound effects of a Steven Spielberg movie. Eventually, the plant matter was up and out and sitting in a glob of mucous at my feet. The cat looked at me like he'd just coughed up a golden egg. Quite proud of himself, he waited for me to deliver what he considered was much deserved applause, then turned and walked away leaving the prize puke for me to deal with.
Cats ... you got to love 'em.
P.S. You can tell by the nubby remains of the plant stems in the photo, that this was not a one time occurance.