Of cats, their poop, and dogs

So I am house-sitting for the folks I live with. Wait…that didn't make sense. What I'm trying to say is I'm taking care of the house where I live while the hosts enjoy their mission trip to China.

There are three animals in the house: Abbey, the half-mutt, half-lab dog (well, I guess there's no such thing as a half mutt, but oh well…); Callie, a fluffy white cat that suffers from a severe case of misanthropy; and Smokey, a cute little grey kitty that always jumps on the table when I'm having breakfast and starts purring at very sight of my hand approaching her face.

Now, as much as I enjoy animals, I must confess I don't always understand them very well. Take Callie, for example: I think she is the living proof that felines can also suffer from bipolar disorder. Sometimes she comes to me, rubbing herself fiercely against my legs and begging to be petted (or fed, it's hard to tell). My usual response used to be to acquiesce to her advances and pet her…but then suddenly, for no reason, she would get those sharp claws out and scratch me repeatedly at the speed of light (think of a skilled cook chopping onions) or, even worse, clutch my hand with her two paws and bite me! Then she would utter this creepy, guttural growl, lower her ears, and dart away under the couch. I must confess that after enduring this abusive scenario a few times, I became distrusting of Callie and now we are barely on speaking terms. I'm thinking about feeding Zoloft to her and see what happens.

Now Smokey is an entirely different beast. She is definitely touchy-feely and actually only attacks me when I don’t pet her long enough (typical female behavior, I suppose). We actually had quite a poignant moment yesterday when I got home from work and began cleaning her room (yes, she has a room, don't ask). I was going about my business scooping the litter box when I noticed her staring at it intently (almost anxiously), even clawing the marble (or is it granite?) floor. As soon as I got done she leaped into the litter box, started digging around and then she stood still, arched her back in a convex shape and dropped her load right there, in my presence (and Abbey's), with a grin on her face. It was like watching ice-cream come out of the machine, spiral-shaped and everything. Three good chunks of butter pecan goodness. Then she sniffed it a bit as if to verify that the "delivery" was accomplished, and finally proceeded to dig furiously until the droppings were completely covered. I was jaw-dropped. This may not mean much to you, but to me that was a milestone…I had NEVER seen a cat have a BM! I had always thought they were private animals, but clearly this one is pretty comfortable with me. I was embarrassed at the tears that started rolling down my eyes (though I still didn't let her sit on my lap that night and wonder if I ever will again).

Not much to say about Abbey. She's your typical ADHD dog who's starting to go grey on the whiskers a bit too early (she's only three, I think). I've never seen her have a BM either…which is good. I have, nonetheless, seen her snack out of the cats’ litter box. That was gross.

Animals…gotta love them.