On parole!

Mom's schedule is all mixed up this week, 'cause she's been rising at 4:30 a.m. to get to the city by 7 a.m. for some software training. Too bad for her. She usually starts work at noon, and her body clock is all haywire. She hasn't been getting enough sleep and now she has a sinus infection.

But it's been great for me!! Mom lets me out of my crate in the dark pre-dawn hours and feeds us all, cleans the litter box and makes Dad's lunch, and then gets ready for work. She leaves me out of my crate because Dad is supposed to put me back in when he leaves for work later.

But Dad hasn't remembered to do that, not even once! So I've been lounging with the fursibs all day long. Happily, there have been no inappropriate peeing episodes so far.

But Mom is not convinced of a cure. Tonight, when she got home, I stood at the door of the crate and meowed to get in. When I did, I went directly to the litter box and was there for so long that she thought that we'd all had a beer party in her absence.

I'm so happy today!

I'm Catster's Cat of the Day, and I have a wonderful new pic for my page, thanks to Manytoes and family! And I got a special breakfast of roast chicken! Mom was saving it for her lunch sandwich, but decided I deserved it. Thanks, Catster!

Now that I'm 13...

I intend to get a learner's permit, because it won't be long before I'm bugging the 'rents for the car keys.

Living in a crate, the update

Friends, you may recall that after a final unacceptable episode of my peeing on the furniture, my humans decided to confine me to a dog crate when they could not personally supervise me. I get out for an hour or so in the morning until the humans go to work, and then Dad lets me out when he gets home from work around 6 or 7, and I'm free (though confined to the kitchen and family room) until the human bedtime around midnight.

Finally, I got what I always wanted. My very own litter box, shared with no other cat. Mom always knows when I need it. I sit outside the cage and meow until she lets me in. And when I'm done, I meow to get back out.

See, all they needed to do all those years was lock up all the other cats. If they had, they'd still have their rugs and stuff.

Anyway, this isn't so bad. I can sleep in the little cubby at the bottom of the cat perch without Vicki bothering me. I get my own food dish and water dish, and I don't have to wolf my treats down because I know they'll still be there later if I want to save them.

I recommend this to other humans who have "litter-box problem" kitties.

My humble prose gets a nod from the Diary Chick

I'm kinda surprised she liked that one, but maybe the algorithm is set for long posts? Anyway, thanks, D.C., and to my friends who messaged me with congrats. Love you all!

In the doghouse. For real.

I think I peed outside the box once too often, my friends. Last week Mom came home from work, and was greeted by an all-too-familiar smell as soon as she walked in the front door. Yup, I peed on the living room couch. And also on one of the living-room chairs.

Fortunately, all the household furniture is slip-covered and the furniture itself is wrapped in plastic under the slipcovers. So this time she didn't have to throw out expensive furniture. But she has had to do that before, along with every rug that she ever owned. And the Roomba, which I peed on. And several computer keyboards. And one of Dad's expensive textbooks. And once she had to re-print their tax returns because I baptized them while they were on her desk. (She says she can sort of understand that one.) And she has mopped up more "puddles" on the floor than she cares to count.

Extensive vet work-ups show no physical problem, and Mom has tried everything else to solve this longstanding problem. Behavioral therapy. Anti-anxiety medication. Pheremones. Nothing has worked.

So this time she went out and bought a large dog crate. Big enough for a carpeted cat perch, a litter box, some toys and my food and water dishes. I live there now whenever I can't be personally supervised by Mom or Dad.

It could be worse, I guess. I get out in the morning to eat with my sibs and sit on a human lap while they drink coffee and read the paper. I get out again at night to sit in the family room with the rest of the family.

But I have to sleep in my cage. And I have to be in there all day when the humans are at work. I don't like it. At all.

For two days, my fursibs stayed downstairs with me in solidarity. But Bear and Vicki caved eventually and started going upstairs to sleep in the bed with Mom and Dad. Jasper stays downstairs, but always in the family room.

Mom says this is better than a full-time cage at a no-kill shelter, which was the other alternative. She doesn't want to give me up. But she can't afford new furniture, either.

Sigh.

Sparkly chompers

Yesterday was awful. Mom put me in my carrier and took me to the vet. I don't know what hit me, but when I woke up my mouth was all sore and I was unsteady on my feet. I had to wait there for hours until Dad came to get me.

But my teeth are all white and pearly now! And the vet didn't steal any, thank goodness. I counted them all twice and they're all still there.

And I got some yummy baby food for dinner last night and breakfast this morning!

Back from the vet's

That wasn't much fun. My titer from last year showed that my antibodies for distemper were low, so I had to get a booster. The vet vampires took some new blood this time. Don't know the results yet. The vet will call with those on Monday.

The good news is that I hadn't lost as much weight as Mom thought -- only an ounce (our digital scale must be off). So maybe the thyroid is OK. The vet also said my heart sounded good -- he couldn't hear the murmur the other vet heard last year -- but he ordered the cardiomyopathy test anyway, because the lab was giving it away free if other bloodwork was being done. (Usually it's $100.)

And if the blood tests come back OK, I need to get my teeth cleaned. Darn. that will mean another trip to the vet.

Getting unfashionably thin

Looks like it's time for another vet visit. I've lost nearly half a pound in the last couple of months, even though my eating habits haven't changed (I've always been a slow nibbler, not a wolf-it-down type, but I usually manage to clean my plate eventually.)

Mom thinks I may have hyperthyroidism. So it's off to the doc this week. It's also time to get the ticker checked out. The last time I was there, the doc detected a slight murmur.

Would appreciate any spare purrs you have stashed away.

Lovebug tag

1. Meow! Are you a noisy kitty or a quiet kitty?
I meow to let the peeps know I want to be held on their laps, but otherwise I don't say much.

2. Litterbox! Cover your business or let some other kitty cover?
I can do that for myself, thank you very much.

3. Happy! Favorite Daily Routine?
Sleeping on top of Mom at night.

4. Hiss! Least Favorite Routine?
Can't think of any routine that I don't like. I hate vet visits, but that's not really routine.

5. Ding-Dong! What do you think about visitors to your house?
I hate visitors! I beat Vicki to the bedroom closet every time.

6. Friends! Do you like other animals?
Only my family. And my Catster friends, but I probably would hide in the closet if they actually appeared at my house.