The Rules According to Cats

Dear Benny Russell Terror,

It's been some time since you have been to our house, and we don't entirely mind your presence, but there are a few rules that you need to learn before your next visit.

1) Your mere presence in our home does not mean that you can have the same privileges we do. Doggie paws are icky and should not be allowed on any table surface, regardless of whether our people are eating or not. You don't spend hours cleaning and fluffing like we do, therefore you have dirty paws. Stay down.

2) Similarly, you're not allowed on our beds. You smell, and you drool in your sleep. That's disgusting. The only non-felines allowed on the beds are our people. By feeding us gourmet dinners and worshipping our every move, they have earned their right to lie under the blankets and lay their heads on the pillows. You have your own smelly little bed, and that's where you must sleep. Get over it.

3) While you're having dinner, our job is to sit on the table or shelves above you to see what you are eating, and if one of us finds it appealing, we may swoop down in front of you and take what we want. This does not give you the right to wander over to our own unfinished meal. Our food is our food. Your food is our food.


4) You must cease your vulgar behaviour of humping the pillows, your toys, the sofa, the man's foot, the carpet and any living creature that allows you to get close enough to mount it. Most of the dogs in the neighbourhood are five times your size, and would require a step ladder for you to even see your target. Give it up.

5) You must learn how to restrain yourself when we allow you to play outside in our yard. It's offensive to our sensibilities that you think so little of our space that you immediately take a dump out there. What do you think this is - a giant litter box? Restrain yourself. 

6) Just be quiet. What is that hideous yelp that comes from your throat every time we playfully hiss at you? It hurts our ears. One would think you're being murdered. If you don't want us to turn around and look at you, then don't chase us, for heaven's sake. The same goes for your growling. It sounds like a pathetic attempt to purr and we all know that inferior animals can not purr.  Be silenced.


7) Learn some restraint. Do you not understand that when the people call you by name, clap their hands and make bird-like noises at you, that you're supposed to simply appear irritated and ignore them? Instead you come running out from the farthest recesses of the house or yard to see what they have for you. Foolish canine, they just want to control you, and you're willing to sell yourself for a mere rub on the head. Have you no pride?


8) Stop your incessant jumping. You don't need to launch yourself into the air every time the people touch your leash. How are they supposed to clip it onto your collar if you don't hold still. Nobody is happier than we are to see you go away for a nice looooong walk, so just hold still and cooperate. Settle down.
9) Get down. The human lap is reserved for cats only. You may not wiggle your way onto one of our people, and steal our rightful pats and belly rubs. For some reason, my people think you're pretty adorable. We're not fooled by your head-cocks and cute little noises. The people belong to us. Stay down.


10) This is the most important rule of all. You are NOT to laugh at how one of us looks since a recent stay at the vet* (human explanation below). There have been a couple of unfortunate encounters with the surgeon's razor and knife. Ten days later, one of us returned home wearing a most unbecoming stretchy outfit and a ridiculous blue collar. It is to be worn for the next few weeks, and should your next visit intersect with that period of time, you must refrain from staring, laughing or feeling superior. Remember to ignore it, that it isn't funny, and that you are inferior. Hissssss.

If you can accomplish these simple rules, we will continue to endure your presence in our home. You are a dog. You will never be one of us. But play by the rules and we may just tolerate your existence.

Very Mewly Yours,
Skittles & Zephyr

*Shortly after I returned from the late-September cottage visit, it was evident that one of my cats had been vomiting. That's not so unusual for a feline, given their penchant for aiming slimy fur balls right at that spot where your bare foot hits the floor first thing in the morning. I cleaned it up and forgot about it until it happened again. And again and again.

Zephyr is the least aggressive feline that I've ever known. Skittles, at about two-thirds his size, is by no means a rough cat, but has taken on the job of alpha kitty in this pairing. Nothing is important enough to Zephyr to fight over. Except food. Then he'll win every time.

Most animals have a normal survival instinct and therefore eat to live. Zephyr, the laziest, klutziest cat in my world, lives only to eat and purr. So when he lost interest in both of those activities, and continued vomiting the water he was drinking, a trip to the vet was in order.

That hospital stay lasted ten days, during which time he had:
• X-rays to determine if a blockage existed: Negative

• Full blood work up to diagnose liver issues: Negative

• Exploratory surgery to locate a blockage: Negative

• Liver biopsy: Negative

• Bowel biopsy: Ta-da!

• Stomach tube insertion

• Intravenous

• Anti-inflammatory medication

• Antibiotics

• A funny little t-shirt to keep his stomach tube from getting caught on anything.

• A hilarious blue collar to keep him from licking and biting at his tube or incisions.

Five days after surgery the lab came back with a diagnosis of Inflammatory Bowel Disease. An encouraging finding because it's usually highly treatable with oral medication, once the vomiting ceases. After a week, Zephyr had begun to keep his tube-fed food down but he was still showing no interest in eating, so the tube proved to be an important procedure.

On day ten, after nibbling a bit, he was ready to come home. I learned how to supplement-feed him by tube, and how to keep the tube site clean. Thankfully his appetite has begun to return, and I no longer have to tube-feed him, though I continue to ensure that the tube remains clear by forcing water through it to his stomach twice daily. This is also in case he regresses and needs to rely on tube feedings again.He's been home for a week now and doing well. Skittles, whom I feared would pick on him mercilessly, was quite stunned at his appearance when he arrived home, and stayed out of his way.

Zephyr is a good patient, and purrs his way through wound cleanings and force-fed pills. If he continues to improve after the meds are done, he'll have one more quick surgery to remove the tube in a few weeks.
He's a great cat, and well worth the trouble and expense, which was kindly reduced by my empathetic vet. Here's a photo of him in his recovery outfit. Just don't let him hear you laughing.

Ten days at the vet and all I got was this lousy t-shirt and collar.




The collar is supposed to keep him from licking and biting at his incision. It works fairly well considering his tongue can't reach past the end of it. It's actually supposed to be worn turned up. Here you can see the outline of the feeding tube through the material of his t-shirt.



Anatomy of a sick cat.