That’s Amore

Leave it to Lucius to like imported olive oil as a pick-me-upper in the morning. He is a cat of peculiar, and rather refined, tastes, and I should have known that, when I received a new year’s gift of hand-pressed olive oil from a vendor in Tuscany, Lucius would be ready to lap it up. If Lucius had an iPod, he would listen to “That’s Amore” while licking the saucer clean.

And then there is Perkins (pictured here). I knew she was not in top form recently because she has not been upwardly mobile, as has been her daily custom during the past eleven years. Instead of climbing the cat trees in the garage apartment, Perkins has been sitting quietly on a futon mattress on the living-room floor. Of our ten rescue cats, she is the only one who resists close contact with human beings, with the exception of Cat Lady.

I called Dr. O. today and requested a house call. The hisses and growls coming from Perkins’s tiny mouth upset even Dr. O. I volunteered that I had been giving Gerber baby food to Perkins for four days, because I thought she might have a digestive issue. Dr. O. responded that I had made the correct judgment call, and, I have to admit, four jars of chicken, beef, turkey, and ham baby food are infinitely more affordable than a senior cat’s work-up.

Still, I never want to neglect our cats, and I will rearrange our monthly household budget to the penny if it means identifying extra funds to properly diagnose and care for a sick cat. But I learned something very valuable today from Dr. O. It’s OK not to treat a cat if the cat truly won’t allow herself or himself to be treated. Deciding not to treat does not constitute gross neglect. This is a slightly unconventional concept to me, though the more I think about it—fully respecting a cat’s wishes—that’s amore, too.

Query of the Day: How do you cheer up a Cat Lady who is about to undergo surgery? Please join me in sending well wishes to Heather, one of my favorite Cat Ladies in the world.

Fat Cats

With all the talk about fat cats dominating the headlines, I can’t help but think of my own fat cats.

L.B. used to be our only fat cat, the chairman of the 1 percenters’ club devoted to feline gluttony. Doesn’t he look, well, beefy? Sort of Gingrichesque? Keeping him company now are Leo, Linus, and Alvar. What’s a Cat Lady to do to keep her kitties slim and trim?

There is no pork, literally, in the prescription-only, dietetic -maintenance dry food that I purchase each month for my fat-cat foursome. The Catland budget is increasingly lean when it comes to the line item for treats, and although L.B., Leo, Linus, and Alvar are fearlessly hungry at all hours, they have given up campaigning for extra portions of food whenever the mood suits them. Debating is not allowed; politely dissenting meows are tolerated on a limited basis.

An audit of Cat Lady’s joint 2010 tax returns with Cat Man will indicate that there are no offshore accounts for harboring funds with which to feed overweight felines. No, the buck stops at Catland, and my biggest resolution for 2012 is to transform four hefty cats into lightweights.

“Fat Cats No More” is our personal bumper sticker, but don’t be surprised if I write again soon that L.B., Leo, Linus, and Alvar are into some serious lobbying.

Query of the Day: Who’s your favorite fat cat?

Gimme [Stylish] Shelter

I did a little research to follow up on the intriguing “Cat Meowtel” arrow that pointed me to a delightful tidbit in yesterday’s New York Times magazine.

My new Number 1 Cat Lady in New York City is architect Kathryn Walton, founder of a nonprofit named The American Street Cat, Inc. She partnered recently with the Co Adaptive Architecture firm and won a competition among New York–area architects to create a winter home for stray cats. Very sadly, there are more than 10,000 strays that roam the streets of Manhattan.

The idea is an inspired one, and it’s gratifying to know that architects who often look to the sky to admire their achievements were content to keep their noses to the ground—all to protect and preserve the lives of cats needing shelter. The operative words for the competing architects were to build a shelter that was “warm, weatherproof, portable, and safe.”

What is especially neat about the winning design is its data-monitoring device. The shelter is constructed of recycled and donated materials (a 20-pound plastic tub filled with denim and moss) and comes equipped with a pressure sensor, an LED light, and a radio transmitter that lights up upon the entrance of a cat. A base station in the neighborhood receives information on the weight of the cat and the duration of his or her stay, then posts this information in real time on the Internet.

Back in the day when Cat Man and I were rescuing our now resident cats, we relied on our own harebrained schemes that somehow worked. If only we had had the knowledge, style, and high-tech savvy of Ms. Walton and her cat-loving comrades in the architecture and design fields.

Query of the Day: Even if Donald Trump is still considering a presidential bid, wouldn’t he make an even bigger impact building “cat meowtels” in every borough of the Big Apple?

Emerging from the Chrysalis

I rarely write about our cat Miss Tommie, who turned eleven recently. It’s not because I do not love her dearly. It’s because I have never been able to get too close to her, both literally and figuratively.

But something apparently happened when 2012 was ushered in this past Sunday. As fireworks filled the air, Miss Tommie must have made a new year’s resolution because she emerged from her chrysalis. And I’ve got the love bites on my neck to prove it.

What prompts a painfully shy and introverted cat—the runt of Lillie’s first litter—to step out and claim her place in the sun? For almost every day of the eight years that Miss Tommie has lived in our garage apartment with her mother, sister, and brother, she has sat placidly underneath a wooden breakfast tray, above which is a plastic stool positioned near a windowsill. Despite the barriers, I could always pet her, and I would always talk to her, but I could never hold her.

Now, Miss Tommie runs to me eagerly at her morning and evening feedings. She wants me to pick her up and cuddle her tightly. I don’t want to let go, although I may need to ask this previously gentle creature to stay clear of my neck.

I take Miss Tommie’s emergence as a positive sign for 2012, as an affirmation that old-fashioned patience can still be a virtue. As the saying goes, “All good things come to those who wait.”

Query of the Day: How do you cover up love bites?

Goodbye 2011, Hello [Kitty] 2012

May 2012 be proclaimed as "The Year of the Cat Lady"!

Wishing you and your kitties a happy, healthy, and humane new year.