Age: 15 Years Sex: Male Weight: 13 lbs.
|Home:Wilton, CT ||[I have a diary!] |
Leave a treat for Werther
Catster stats for Werther
8 times 48
Furry Paws, Friend, Twinkletoes, Werther's Original, Tabby, Chewy Caramel
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October 20th 2001
Orange & White Tabby
Loves being scratched under chin, all kinds of food besides Fancy Feast and Iams (cooked asparagus, yogurt, liver, sushi-grade tuna)
Hates his hind legs being petted.
Toy mouse with catnip inside
Favorite Nap Spot:
On a flat square pillow, atop the leather (once free of cat scratches) ottoman
He eats absolutely anything.
That's easy. Werther is extremely intuitive. A mind reader.
It's a bit of a four degree separation kind of story. My friend from cooking school (a cat lover) had a friend who he had professionally cooked for named Mrs. Smith (allergic to cats) who had a female pal (name unknown) who rescued Werther on the streets of Upstate New York. Does that make any sense? Anyway, this person took him in temporarily, but couldn't keep him because she already had two cats.
Like me, Werther is adopted, and came with no biographical information. What I can gather from behavior patterns, though, is that his parents were probably extremely talented at playing hide-and-seek, and were affectionate hand holders (Werther likes to put a paw on my hand during times of my distress).
Werther, the One and Only Original
The Groups I'm In:
Brilliant Orange Cats Unite, Cookie & Candy Cats, Cutie kittys, Orange Tabby group, Strollin' Pets
I've Been On Catster Since:
|May 16th 2006
||More than 10 years!
Rosette, Star and Special Gift History
See all my Feline Friends
See all my Feline Friends
March 22nd 2007 5:48 pm
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Here's how it went - I was scooped up and stuffed into Karen's red carry-on Tumi bag to go to the vet (not enough time to put together the kitty bugger I usually travel in). At the animal clinic, as we waited for our appointment, I went into panic mode: sweaty paws, fur flyaway hairs (this is common when we get nervous), rapid heart beats. Fight or flight! The second puh-lease, well, come to think of it, I'm not much of a fighter either. Scene 2: the exam room. For the first time ever, I got a mani (nails were clipped) and the vet tried to figure out what was going on with my infection. Hmmm? Lots of squints, poking, and yuck, scraping my chin to get a sample to send to the lab. Here's what the vet said to Karen, "Don't look mommy!" Aye aye, for sure cuz I was bleeding. Scene 3: After scurrying back home in Karen's arms (the bag would not do after the traumatic episode), I'm lying down on my favorite spot watching must see telly. And this I forgot to mention: the vet has not yet ruled out a food allergy so I'm on a new diet ... one cup a day of lamb and pea flavored triangle bits. So I wait for the news with Karen. Three to five days to hear back from the vet. Wonder what's up, the next course of action. In the meantime, me-woe is me.
March 21st 2007 6:27 pm
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Ah - the tables have turned. Usually I'm the one prowling around in Karen's business - reading her journal, sifting through emails, snooping around in general - but times have changed. There's a potential insurrection here: the human is trying her best to one up me with her manpower of visual observation. Taking notes. Peeking with one eye open. Nodding and scratching her head in deep thought. All because? I have a rather unsightly infection on my lower lip and Karen is trying to get to the bottom of it in true Nancy Drew style. The things she's noted so far: appetite, intake, sleeping patterns, and mood have not changed. To give her credit, she's onto something. I also prowled through her history of website searches recently and she thinks I may have a food allergy to something. But here's a stumper: my cat food brands haven't changed, maybe less fish & shrimp in recent weeks, but that's it. I did try and trick her though by hiding under the couch for a good amount of time (any basic feline book says that hiding means there's something amiss healthwise), but I really only did it to get her attention. But it seems she's given up and can't figure out why I have this pinkish-scabby-doesn't hurt when touched infection and has made an appointment at the vet for tomorrow afternoon. Oy vey. Together the humans will put their brains together and hopefully come up with an answer and moreso, a solution. Now I'm nervous come to think of it. Uggggh ... feel quesy just thinking about the vet. Must prepare for visit, mentally speaking. Peace out.
March 20th 2007 10:55 am
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Appetite good (check). Sleeping well (check). No nausea, vomiting, or upset stomachs (check x3). Yes, I am doing fine. My pet foods - cans of Fancy Feast supplemented with dry Iams pellets - were NOT recalled, but merci for the ESP vibes of concern. What's new? Not much really. I just felt like writing, especially after a long hibernation of tap-tap-tapping on the laptop keyboard. There's one thing that's got Karen all boozied up with the natural feelgood hormones early this week - she has dinner plans to go to Payard restaurant on 75th St and Lexington with Foodie Smurf where she has already picked out what she wants for the $35 prix fixe menu that's offered for those lucky pre-theater folks from 5:45-6:45pm. That's right - she'll start off with the seasonal soup (mesclun, so ho hum), then dig right in with fork, knife, AND spoon into the traditional bouillabaisse of Chilean sea bass, mussels, clams and squid, AND since we all know there's always room to tuck in some of those French little pastry desserts, she'll take one of those puff pastry tarts with the poached pears and pistachio nuts (one of her all-time favorites). Oh and this! Spring is here. Front row and center. Yes, so long winter, ola to the season for flip flops (hint: monthly pedis would be nice for those gnarly looking feet of hers), pussy willow branches, afternoons curled up in the windowsill where I might be lucky to get a patch of sun! Alright, gotta get back to my post. Remember I am Original, Werther Original 009. What I do best is observe human behavior and Karen is up to something and I don't know what.
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