![\"Nelson](\"https:\/\/lindacullen.ca\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/Nelson-sign-resting.jpg\")
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And suddenly it\u2019s the end of October!\u00a0 October is significant because it\u2019s Breast Cancer Awareness month.\u00a0 I wrote about that last year, and it\u2019s here on my Blog page if you\u2019re interested.\u00a0 I think this particular October is also significant simply because we\u2019ve made it through another month of pandemic, and because the land to the south is about to vote.\u00a0 I wish there was some kind of vaccine we could get to make both of these crises go away, but being 2020, even if there was such a thing, I have a pretty good idea where it would be administered.<\/p>\n
Right now, I really feel the need for distraction from all things that could make me sob (begging the question Why did you let me watch My Octopus Teacher???) therefore, I thought I would write about cats, as we\u2019ve just passed National Cat Day. (Yeh, I pretty much miss every significant day, so sorry about not sending the anniversary present.)<\/p>\n
At the moment, I am what would technically be called a \u2018recovering cat person\u2019.\u00a0 I\u2019m actually on the Patch to manage my cat cravings.\u00a0 I have been sans feline for about 4\u00bd years and have been trying to hold off for an even longer time, if not permanently, and I\u2019ll tell you why momentarily.\u00a0 But I loved all of the cats that I adopted as an adult and also the ones I had when I was a kid, although it was a different time, and we didn\u2019t look after them in the same way.\u00a0 So, I thought I\u2019d let you see the Rogue\u2019s Gallery of misfits and ne\u2019er do wells that I and then also my husband shared our lives with.<\/p>\n
![\"Bob](\"https:\/\/lindacullen.ca\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/Bob-and-Cleo.jpg\")
<\/a>Bob, no matter how long you stare adoringly at my head, I will not look at you!<\/p><\/div>\n
I believe Cleo was a stray, so she could have been 5 when I adopted her in 1990, or older.\u00a0 She was loveable and cuddly with me; she had some kind of problem with Bob.\u00a0 Perhaps it was political, or maybe she just didn\u2019t like the cut of his jib. (Full disclosure; I had been cutting his jib, but I was definitely not a professional jib cutter) It\u2019s too bad because he was also a true-blue Cat Guy.\u00a0 But whenever he picked her up for a snuggle, she\u2019d turn away from him, like a silent movie actress getting pulled in for a kiss by the creepy bad guy.\u00a0 She\u2019d had her front claws removed, something I would never do, but I thought it was a happy coincidence, because I had just recently purchased fairly pricey pearly pink leather loveseats, so win-WIN!\u00a0 And then I learned how much damage her rear claws could do to that pricey pearly pink leather, so in reality, lose-lose.<\/p>\n
<\/a>I think Cleo was left alone too long with the creepy ventriloquist dummy.<\/p><\/div>\n
Right out of the gate, Cleo suffered from some gastro problem, which led to her barfing on pretty much everything I owned.\u00a0 In the 10 years that I and then Bob and I had her, I believe we laid out roughly the Gross National Product of Lichtenstein to veterinarians trying to find the cause.\u00a0 But it remained a mystery to the end.<\/p>\n
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<\/a>A happy cuddly moment between barfs. And the universally recognized leather sofa protector; a duvet cover. Still didn\u2019t work.<\/p><\/div>\n
And here\u2019s something you don\u2019t know when you adopt a stray; as mild-mannered as she was on her own, whenever she was in the presence of another cat, let\u2019s say my parents\u2019 cat Mitzie, when they took her to cat-sit the first time we had to travel for work, she would attack that cat with the same ferocity and viciousness of a couple of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills fighting over the last pair of sale priced Jimmy Choo\u2019s, only with slightly less screaming.\u00a0 Maybe it was all sound no fury, but I believe she truly wanted to rip their heads off and cursed the lack of front claws in those moments.<\/p>\n
<\/a>Bob and Nelson liked to have breakfast and then get down to reading the paper.<\/p><\/div>\n
We got Nelson immediately after Cleo went to the great Cosmic Scratching Post.\u00a0 He was two months old, and an adorable maniac.\u00a0 I remember fondly that day when I was standing at the sink in the kitchen and all of a sudden, felt this searing pain in my right butt cheek, as if I had been shot with 10 poisonous darts.\u00a0 After quickly checking that I wasn\u2019t dying from some jungle toxin, I carefully pried Nelson from my backside. I think I still walk with a slight limp from that attack.<\/p>\n
<\/a>Sooo tiny. And he did enjoy office work.<\/p><\/div>\n
Nelson grew from a wacky, entertaining puffball, into a handsome, serious, sensitive creature.\u00a0 Bob enjoyed the occasional afternoon nap, and whenever he plunked down on the couch, Nelson was sprawled out on top of him within 30 seconds.\u00a0 I can\u2019t remember exactly when it started, but he had a habit of pooping just outside the litter box.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know how many times I told him, \u2018Nelson!\u00a0 It\u2019s THINK outside the box!\u2019\u00a0 Made no difference.\u00a0 It was as if he didn\u2019t understand English.<\/p>\n
<\/a>Toulouse Lautrec obviously had a black cat.<\/p><\/div>\n
It has always amazed me that even though he was an indoor cat, and fed the best possible food, we had numerous medical emergencies; the sliced tendon, the blocked penis(OUCH!) plus an ongoing stomach issue that started 4 or 5 years in, which ultimately led to pretty severe disease.\u00a0 With Bob holding him, I syringe fed him for his last 8 months, thinking that we could turn our baby around.\u00a0 But in the end, he finally had to make it clear to me that he\u2019d had enough.<\/p>\n
<\/a>Oh man! Life! Am I right??<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/a>Handsome boy.<\/p><\/div>\n
<\/a>After micro-surgery for the sliced tendon.\u00a0 I mean, what the\u2026??? Poor wee thing.<\/p><\/div>\n
Pretty girl. Possibly moments before she eviscerated our handyman. And handymen are hard to come by.<\/p><\/div>\n This cutie was originally my Mom and Dad\u2019s cat\u2026well, my Dad\u2019s.\u00a0 A few months after he died in 2000, we added Mitzie to our home because my Mother was not really the biggest animal lover and we knew that Mitzie and Nelson got along like a house on fire.\u00a0 They chased each other around the house like cartoon cats and when Mitzie caught Nelson they\u2019d wrestle each other and nobody ever got mad and claws never came out.\u00a0 And she would cuddle with Nelson which was the best possible outcome.\u00a0 She was a loveable girl who was obsessed with rubbing her head on anything she could grab on to, often Bob.<\/p>\n A mutually beneficial arrangement.<\/p><\/div>\n She was just the sweetest, most sociable little thing\u2026until you picked her up.\u00a0 And then she unleashed 18 Ginsu knives that could slice and dice one moderately sized human into bite sized pieces with just four lightning swipes.<\/p>\n Whenever we had to get her into a carrier for a vet visit, it was like running a highly dangerous secret ops mission:<\/p>\n Happy together\u2026and also that was a heated floor.<\/p><\/div>\n \u201cAll right troops, without Target\u2019s knowledge, secure the crate and place in hidden position, lure Target to the designated spot with promise of treat, while Target eats treat, rear team grabs Target and pivots NO MORE than two inches to crate opening, insert Target in crate, and CLOSE DOOR as fast as humanly possible!\u00a0 Good luck team, and let\u2019s everybody come back alive!\u201d<\/p>\n I think somewhere around a year after we got her, she started showing signs of illness, which meant that she barfed on just about everything we owned that hadn\u2019t already been barfed on by Cleo.\u00a0 Heavy sigh.<\/p>\n The only photo I could find of Bella, before she became ill.<\/p><\/div>\n I can\u2019t remember the exact year we had her.\u00a0 She was a tiny shivering stray that we found practically on our front doorstep coming home on a cold rainy night.\u00a0 As soon as she saw us she started crying.\u00a0 Of course, we took her in.\u00a0 We thought she was 4 or 5 months old.\u00a0 She was just the most loveable thing.\u00a0 She liked adults, kids, other cats, although Mitzie was not thrilled with her.\u00a0 Whenever Bella walked past her, Mitzie would give her a whack.\u00a0 Perhaps Mitzie had become a grumpy grandma.\u00a0 But after a few months, it turned out she was severely ill.\u00a0 I think that might have been why she was so small, because the vet thought she was older than she looked.\u00a0 And I also think that might have been why she was dumped on the street.\u00a0 And so, heavy sigh, we let her go to the Great Scratching Post.<\/p>\n Looong before Elf On The Shelf, Bonehead in the Bookcase.<\/p><\/div>\n I read something written by a cat expert, probably a vet, a few years ago, and they said that if you\u2019re thinking about getting another cat as a \u2018friend\u2019 or playmate for a cat you already have, you probably shouldn\u2019t bother.\u00a0 They\u2019re not pack creatures.\u00a0 They\u2019re cats, and they are pretty content on their own.\u00a0 They\u2019re the Greta Garbo of the Animal Kingdom.\u00a0 I read that roughly fourteen years too late.\u00a0 Don\u2019t get me wrong, we loved Winston.\u00a0 He was adorable and hilarious.\u00a0 About a month and a half after Mitzie was called to the Big Litterbox, I thought Nelson sounded lonely.\u00a0 He would walk up to us letting out these sad, pathetic meows.\u00a0 I later realized that was just him.\u00a0 He was a bit of a whiner.\u00a0 But I said let\u2019s go get him a friend!\u00a0 So, we did.\u00a0 And we made a point of picking someone who seemed as playful as Mitzie was. What could go wrong?\u00a0 And on that score, we were successful.\u00a0 Winston was very playful, almost too much sometimes, so that Nelson would get mad, a fight would ensue and then they\u2019d bring out the automatic weapons and police would be called.\u00a0 Good times!\u00a0 It was clear pretty early on the difference in their personalities.\u00a0 Winston was such a clown, so we called him The Comedian.\u00a0 Nelson, on the other hand, was serious, sensitive, so he became known as The Critic.<\/p>\n His dirty little secret\u2026he loved to roll around in the armpits of Bob\u2019s shirts.\u00a0 Musk anyone?<\/p><\/div>\n I used to wonder why Winston ended up at the shelter, seeing as he was such a loveable bonehead.\u00a0 It took me many years to figure it out.\u00a0 As a matter of fact, I really wasn\u2019t absolutely sure until after Nelson was gone: Winston was a pee monster.\u00a0 He peed on EVERYTHING.\u00a0 Everything that hadn\u2019t been barfed on by Mitzie and Cleo, plus everything that HAD!\u00a0 Leave a plastic bag on the floor too long?\u00a0 Pee.\u00a0 Buy an attractive basket to hold newspapers?\u00a0 Pee.\u00a0 Stack your sweaters in your closet on a shelf?\u00a0 True story; we\u2019re getting ready to go dancing at a club one night, and I realized when I put on the ONE sweater I wanted to wear, it had that familiar odor! WTFFFFF!??\u00a0 But maybe nobody but me will get a whiff.\u00a0 Did I mention I\u2019m delusional?\u00a0 We started dancing.\u00a0 Body heated up.\u00a0 I notice the floor starts to clear around me leaving me boogying solo in my urine soaked cloud!!<\/p>\n The one and only time they snuggled this close.\u00a0 I think they were drunk.<\/p><\/div>\n Nelson contributed a little bit to this bladder anarchy, but I believe he started peeing just to maintain his self-respect in the face of that jerk!\u00a0 I tried everything; litter boxes in every room.\u00a0 Pheromones!\u00a0 I sprayed pheromones all over our homes, even spritzed a bit behind my ears!\u00a0 It did nothing for the cats, and even less for Bob.\u00a0 The end result was that I spent thirteen years washing, scrubbing, laundering, baking soda-ing EVERYTHING to make sure our home didn\u2019t smell like we had 200 cats instead of 2!\u00a0 I hope I was successful.\u00a0 After Nelson died, I realized that I had blamed him for a lot of the indiscriminate liquid dispersal, and regretted that.\u00a0 Once he was gone, it became clear why Winston had been given up.\u00a0 And yet, I loved that little house wrecker.<\/p>\n Can you guess which one is always up for a game?<\/p><\/div>\n So perhaps you\u2019ve picked up on clues to answer the question Why Doesn\u2019t Linda Get Another Cat During Covid So At Least She Has Some Company And Then She\u2019ll Stop Bothering Us?<\/p>\n I get it.\u00a0 You\u2019re tired of me showing up at your place when I\u2019m not in your Safe 6, or Double Bubble, or even know you.<\/p>\n The answer is that for those 26 years that I deeply loved those soft, warm, adorable house wreckers, it was nothing but barf, pee and poo, vets, vet bills.\u00a0 And I\u2019m just not ready to do that again.<\/p>\n Winston LOVED to lick\u2026but these adorable moments usually ended up with someone(Nelson) storming off.<\/p><\/div>\n I\u2019ve heard about people who adopt cats and never have a day of health problems, and then after a long life, the cat pops her clogs when she goes to sleep one night.\u00a0 I\u2019ve heard tell in stories told \u2018round a campfire, of people who put unrelated felines together and they all cozy up like long lost Frat brothers.\u00a0 I\u2019ve heard these stories, but I think they\u2019re just legends, urban myths.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\nMITZIE \u2013 1989?-2003<\/h3>\n
<\/a>BELLA\u00a0 2003?<\/h3>\n
<\/a>WINSTON\u00a0 2001-2016<\/h3>\n
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