Cats Drugs Sans Rock and Roll

Bach – Original flower essence…a homeopathic remedy.

This flower remedy is made up of Helianthumum, Clematus, Ornathagalum, and Rock water among other earthy things and was recommended to me to calm (she has issues) Nutmeg; my exotic if not partially undomesticated live-in cat. The phrase “my cat” translates to tenant or more accurately guest. Nutmeg agreeably resides within the same four walls as I do, lives off my generosity in a placid neutral fashion, but I am certain she cohabitates only for the sake of Chaos my very own adorable 20 lb. (update; as of last check up a healthy 27 pounder!) Butterball Tabby cat-child very much in love with Nutmeg.

A typical morning these days goes something like this:
5:00 a.m. - a vibrating furry sumo class non-regulation bowling ball lands in the middle of my stomach much to my surprise. It is much more to my surprise that I am surprised at all since this happens nearly every single morning.

“Go away pest.” I grumble.

“But it is really dark in the morning and there are (fill in appropriate visitor; deer, wild turkeys, a red hawk and her family, grouse patrols, quail by the columns, A BALD EAGLE, a really BIG mountain lion, my mystery Badger…) right outside!” This is all translated from the ancient vibrating cat- bounce code. I believe Babelfish is considering adding Catspeak to their translations in the near future.

“ I said go away! It’s not even daylight yet.” I perform a strategic ninja move appropriately named the out of water fish flop which successfully lands me on my side and sends Chaos charging for the window so he doesn’t miss any of the show. Nutmeg of course has reserved him a ringside seat next to her.

7:00 a.m.- a soft silky spider web of gentle inquiring whiskers rub against my face, I twitch and try to crawl deeper into my dream.

“Is he moving yet?” Chaos calls down to Nutmeg sitting on the floor looking up to the bed.

“It’s dead I tell you, I thinks we should eats it.”

“I am hungry."

"You are always hungry!"

Oh he moved!” I twitch and brush across my face with my left hand.

“Wake up wake up wake up!!! We’re HUNGRY!!!” Chaos initiates Bouncing Cat code again.
I open my eyes and stretch for my glasses, but I cannot reach them, Chaos has given up on food quest and settled down, making a nest of my shoulder. He is now determined to protect me from be eaten by a sinister five and a half pound Nutmeg who is at the very moment reaching a paw up onto the bed sneaky-sneaky only to retreat when Chaos makes a playful lunge at her.

“OK, I’m awake,” I announce. “And I need to go to the lavatory.” Chaos sits up; Nutmeg stops her secret advance and sits looking up at me as well.

“Huh?” Chaos is confused.

“Bathroom, restroom, toilet…sand box! Get off me!”

“Oh, ok. Why didn’t you just say so?” Chaos performs a perfect forward pike-from-crouch dive launching off my soon to rupture bladder, marking the spot with tiny drops of blood from his deadly claws.

I swing my legs to the floor and rise. Chaos has taken point at the doorway and Nutmeg drops her sinister gleam, shrinks her shoulders into herself and skulks ahead timidly looking over her shoulder at me as she leads the way. To me she looks like a reluctant mine sweep creeping forward and cowering like I might beat her if she doesn’t continue on. Now this is a daily routine, she knows where I am heading. She doesn’t dash under the bed and she doesn’t leave the room. Nutmeg purposely and slowly escorts me to the bathroom, then rushes out when it appears she is cornered.

07:30 a.m.- Thus I start every morning with a bloated bladder, a bleeding stomach, a sense of clueless guilt and an inner need to apologize to the cats for no reason, and I’m not even Jewish.
After I finish up with a shower and pass a brush through my hair and across my teeth (not the same brush silly) I wander out into the kitchen. This is where the spice of variety begins to take hold of my morning, and I consciously determine if I am hungry, if so how hungry, and start to formulate my plans for the day. All the while I am making breakfast for the “kids”. I wash yesterday food bowls, while zapping canned cat food in the microwave (10 seconds for fresh opened and 20 for refrigerated leftovers). Then I chop Nutmegs flesh du jour (her wild side requires fresh turkey or chicken with her meal). I evenly divide a half can of cat food (1/8th can to Chaos 3/8ths can to little Nutmeg) then add 3 oz. of fresh diced meat for Nutmeg and 3 oz. fresh water to Chaos’ dish. I call out “Who wants breakfast?” and Chaos answers me from the base of my feet and Nutmeg comes running up to the kitchen and sits at a respectful nonchalant distance. We form a parade with Chaos in the lead and Nutmeg trailing close behind and march off to their room where I set their bowls next to fresh water and fresh kibble.

Nutmeg will not go into the room until I leave so I tarry awhile so Chaos can eat a bit because I know when I walk out Nutmeg will nudge Chaos away from his bowl knowing perfectly well he won’t eat her food.

8:00 a.m. I am at the computer checking mail and blogs and such. The cats go strolling by and I call out to Chaos “Do you want your desert?” He rushes to my feet.

I say “Sit” and he sits. I tell him he is a good little boy. Nutmeg is sitting too, only three feet behind Chaos. I reach for the kitty snacks. Chaos can’t stand the suspense he stands forward, one paw on my knee, the other gently pawing the air as he whines out loud. I tell him to sit, and he sits back down with one more little whimper. I take out three snacks and tell Chaos to “Lay down”, he does. I tell him to “sit” again, he does. Then I tell him to “sit up” he agrees. Finally I say “Give me your paw” and he panics. He looks around, eying me, then eying the snacks, then he looks back at Nutmeg.

“I told you he would make you do that today.” She sneers. She knows it is time.
Chaos looks at me as if to say “I don’t want to.”

“Chaos, give me your paw.”

He looks trapped. He looks at the snacks, he looks at me, and then he looks back at Nutmeg who just says “Wus.” Chaos hangs his head and offers up a paw. I just want to look at it too see if his claws are too long, check for tics etc. Nutmeg may be brutal but honest; Chaos is a wus.

When I finish I tell him he is a brave boy and offer him his snacks. He takes one from my hand and Nutmeg rushes over. She sniffs the treat in my hand and turns her nose up. She can’t believe what Chaos will do for crappy cereal treats.

I offer her a piece of chicken jerky and she politely takes it to 'her' rug and devours it in one sitting.

Nutmeg has pride, and she distrusts me. I am the enemy in her own home but until she can figure out how to hunt and kill the elusive grain free cat-food, until she can master gutting a can with her bare claws (I think she may have already figured out the microwave), but until she can be sure she is self sufficient she must let me live. Chaos will be of no help, he is fat lazy, and unimaginative. He is Lennie to Steinbeck’s George, which would unmistakably be Nutmeg.

Nutmeg will not be petted. She will not be brushed. Lately she enjoys occasional conversation, and hanging out in the same room as me and I cannot help but be suspicious. She sneaks onto my bed and shares it at night when she thinks I have drifted into sleep (as smart as she is she hasn’t figured out what reading a book in bed is yet) and I keep quiet. I just don’t know what to do if there were an emergency or if she got injured or sick for some reason. So I found Bachs. I was told this is a common drug used on animals that are terrified of loud noises and generally stressed. That describes Nutmeg all the time. So I bought some on the Internet not knowing it was a human remedy as well. So yesterday I received the package in the mail along with more Taurine tablets and a medium dog size harness for Chaos (he long ago outgrew the cat size harness, the toy size dog harness, and small dog harnesses as well) and a bag of free trial liver puppy treats that nutmeg seems to like.

I am a curious creature by nature, and when I come across something new I like to understand it. I have read several accounts of treatment for animals on the 4th of July for noise stress, I read about animal psychosis and some of its treatments, and for all that I was surprised that the bottle I received was labeled for human consumption and the instructions was dosed for a human and yet the article I read recommending this product advised the same amount as the proper cat and dog dosing. That needled at me and I kept referring to the box. I read all four sides, I read the repeated message in the form of a slip of paper inside the box and I read the same info on the bottle label as well. “ Mix in water, with food, or apply directly on tip or under tongue.” I opened the jar, sniffed. It smelled…flowery. I examined the little eyedropper, held it up to the light. I don’t know why, but I touched the dropper with the tip of my tongue. I shuddered. Silly I know, but I couldn’t get “cat medicine” out of my head even though the label clearly indicated this was meant for humans. I braced myself and squeezed the dropper over my tongue. Once just to get an idea of the flavor. Twice, three times and a fourth, I simply had to know what it was that I was giving my cat.

The flavor was mild and sweet and slightly bitter. It had that vaguely numbing sensation that is common in many concentrates. A kind of black cherry tart syrup sweet hint of flavor and a garden aroma faint with alcohol filled my mouth and nostrils. I wondered if Nutmegs aversion to cereal leant its attitude to flowery foods as well.

10:00 a.m.- I also received another wealth of reading material in the mail from amazon and decided to lie down and begin a new book for a bit before addressing the daunting task of lunch, “Take out or leftovers?”

And so I retired to the bedroom. I settled in, got cozy and cracked the spine of a new book then blinked my eyes in a big yawn. And it was dark. I squinted my eyes and checked to find my glasses still on my nose. I looked for the clock on the nightstand and could not believe what the digital face read in bright led numbers: 9:30!

9:30 p.m. The house was dark. Not so dark as midnight in most horror stories, but full moon dark as in excellent broomstick flying weather. My head was fogged over and my mouth was thick and dry. My senses were muddled and thoughts were sluggish. I zombie walked to the kitchen by way of the bathroom then poured a glass of water took two sips and zombie shuffled back to bed.

5:00 a.m. - a vibrating sumo non-regulation bowling ball lands in the middle of my stomach much to my surprise. It is Groundhog Day all over again. Déjà vu to you too kitties, I would guess the elixir works. I haven’t worked up the nerve to try it out on Nutmeg yet, but I am ready to use just one drop on myself the next time I can’t sleep.

Distrust

After another late running jam session

Chaos is in the house and in my guitar case...

A Box of Matches, Strawberries, a Scented Candle and Thou...

Kinky romance? Mcgyver movie of the week? After the mousehead under my bedsheets I am more inclined to believe a chapter from Truman Capote... but alas dear readers this is merely a brief segment out of my kitties colorful life.
Last month I purchased a 'fishing pole' for the kitties, you know the one I'm talking about, cheap plastic 3 piece pole, 3 feet of weak elastic line, and a fuzzy rabbit pelt with a bell attached at the end of the line. A gift to the 'kids' for behaving while I was out shopping.

After putting away the groceries, I unwrapped this toy and assembled it with four eager eyes fixed on my every movement. They were obviously pleased with their reward, and we played for over an hour, until both cats collapsed to the floor and took to napping. I too was weary from watching their antics, and placed the new pole in the 'toy' drawer and went to the couch for my own short but welcome nap. I played a little World of Warcraft (a mere 5 or 6 hours) and fixed some dinner and as I contemplated bedtime I thought to myself that a good rousing game of 'catch the rabbit' might help the kitties to sleep through the night just once...

With plan in hand I wandered over to the toy drawer and opened it up but much to my suprise the pole was missing! I called out to Chaos and Nutmeg, but neither was to be found. I started looking about the house for them discovering tufts of fur and pieces of plastic scattered across the floor in every room! Well it was easy enough to figure what happened to the toy, and where the kids were; under the bed hiding from my anticipated wrath.

So I went into my meaningless lecture on how a proper kitty behaves and the ground rules against breaking toys on the same day they are received and informed them there would be no more fishing poles for bad misbehaving kitties.

A month passed by and it became last week and I was out shopping for groceries again. I spied on a shelf a cat fishing pole toy, and I recalled the hour of fun we all had with the ill fated pole of last months aquisition and impulsively I picked up a new one for the kids. I was certain by now they must have learned their lesson. So I go home, and I put away my groceries, all the while anticipating the same fun we all had last month with the cat 'pole'. I was telling the kitties that they are in for a big treat while I put away a replacment 12 hour candles from a late night power outage we experienced earlier in the month.

That is when I noticed one of my votif candles was missing, and at my feet was one lone wooden matchstick the only remaining survivor from my nearly full box of kitchen matches.

I tore the house apart looking for those missing items, under the couches, chairs, behind the tv, every known hiding place I could conceive or access. Nothing. Zip. Nada. I called a 'family' meeting with my two vandals with known priors and layed down the law. I told them that this was NOT acceptable behavior for two growing young adults to exhibit and that no one was pointing fingers or placing blame, but I wanted my matches and candle returned at once. No one talked.

I pulled Chaos to the side and told him I knew Nutmeg put him up to it, she is a manipulative alleycat and he is so naive and vulnerable, I was aware he didnt know what he was doing by going along with her, but all would be forgiven if he would just show me the loot. He is gullible but no rat. He gave me nothing.

I then approached Nutmeg, smiling sweetly, I told her that Chaos broke and told me everything, how she knocked the items down to the floor and made him stash the loot in a panic to try to cover up her evil deed. But she looked me straight in the eye as if to say 'prove it!' and started licking herself...

Well I was furious! I told both cats that I HAD brought them a present, but they would never ever see it again and I marched to the laundry room door and said 'Yes! It is going into the forbidden room, never to return!' I went inside and put the packaged toy up in the cabinet above the dryer, and slammed the door closed as I came out. It took a good 8 to 10 hours of playing World of Warcraft to calm me down, and I went to bed miserable.

I awoke to darkness for some reason not often known even to me, but certainly not
uncommon in recent years, and I wandered towards the kitchen in a half sleep state looking for some orange juice. I saw a dim light glowing in the kitchen and thought to myself 'we must have had another power outage'and the battery charged storm light designed to come on when the power goes off was balefully glowing to somewhat light my way.

I slowly ambled towards the light. But just as I was approaching the laundry room I noticed the door was ajar. Thinking to myself in my sleepy state that a door cant be a jar and this door most certainly should not have been open, I lumbered back to my bedroom and attached my glasses to my face for a somewhat better view of the situation, rapidly running scenarios of how to deal with intruders, grabbing my cane for good measure and boldly approaching the now crimescene. I looked around thinking to myself what a bad idea it was to allow this room to be the only cluttered managerie of disarrayed storage in the house, even I couldnt tell if anything was missing or messed with, with the exception of the cabinet door above the dryer...
You guessed it, the fishing pole was missing! I charged out of the laundry room noticing for the first time that the light in the kitchen was coming from the refrigerator door! I turned on an overhead light and saw strawberries scattered all across the floor, and a brand new package of pre formed shortcakes had been torn open and half eaten. In and around the debris strewn everywhere were pieces of paper, plastic and fur each no bigger than an inch or two from the brand new packaged fishing pole.

The criminal cats of course were no where to be found and I resigned myself to performing a midnight custodial service and tagged and bagged the evidence as if I was in a dream sequence of CSI or Criminal Minds.

Thoroughly exhausted I dragged myself back to the bedroom where sat my two innocent looking kitties cleaning themselves as if oblivious to the recent events. To tired to deal with them I crawled deeply into my bed ready to resume my much needed rest.
But something scratched my back when I slid into bed. it felt odd, I couldnt recognize the sensation. It certainly was not the kind of tactile experience one expects from the sheets or comforter. I tossed back the covers and rolled out of bed once again.

There staring at me with beady little lifeless button eyes was the head of a big overstuffed plushy mouse, also a new toy that had never been removed from the package. Not only that, but pieces of chewed candle, matchsticks everywhere, and tiny pieces of fur and plastic scattered randomly all over my bed beneath the sheets.

The first thing to come to mind of course was the scene from the Godfather, what kind of message were these mafia furballs sending me? 'Don'ta messa witha our toys!'??? Or was it some form of feline Santeria?

I grabbed my comforter and slept on the couch with one eye open...