Dateline Boston — Hey, Shelby here. My mom’s busy. So I figured I’d do her a favor and write this week’s column. I did it once before. Remember? Gotten a lot better at the keyboard since then. I’ve discovered how to jump up on the office chair and sit on the desk all day. Lots of time to practice.
[img]1185|left|||no_popup[/img]What? You never read something written by a cat? Well, listen, I’m not exactly the most verbose creature on four legs (unless I’m really bored or hungry, then I won’t shut up), but there’s been some talk around the house lately, and I need to vent about it. Or get some advice. Or something.
So we moved into this huge apartment back in the winter. Oh, man, it’s great. I love it. There’s like, a million rooms, and 3 beds, and 3 couches, and lots of rugs to lie on. And one by the door where the shoes go. That’s the one I use for scratching; it’s perfect. Or should I say, purrfect. Heh, heh. Cat humor.
New Man in My Life
Anyway, so now I have a dad. I love my dad. He wasn’t used to cats when he first met me, so he left me alone for a long time, gave me space, and I liked that. Shows respect, ya know? We took our time getting to know each other, and now he’s like putty in my hands. Yeah, Mom and I were by ourselves for years. I liked that a lot. But it’s actually nice to have two people who pay attention to you and get what you want when you want it.
There used to be this one guy who would come to the old apartment every once in awhile, but I didn’t like his energy, and Mom’s face always looked mad when he came over. I finally scratched him and drew blood, and after that he didn’t come around anymore. Sometimes you just have to spell it out, you know?
Now it’s me, Mom, Dad, and every other long day (I think people call those weekends, but I call them long days, because that’s when I get attention for a long amount of time), Dad’s two kids come over. One of them, the older one, worships me like the goddess that I am. He pets me, and plays with me, and just stares at me adoringly. The other one likes me, but I think he’s more of a dog person; it’s just a feeling I get.
Heavy News
So that’s where we’re at right now. But let me fill you in on the talk that I’ve been hearing around here lately. They say I’ve been losing weight. They’re not too worried, because I’m still eating and drinking just as much as ever. But I’m skinny. Hey, I know awhile back I could stand to lose a few pounds, and I did, but I think I’ve lost more than I should. I’m not particularly worried, but I heard something about a thyroid and how I might have to take more pills. As it is, I have a heart condition. I get two pills shoved down my throat every day for that. Yeah, sometimes I spit ‘em out — they’re nasty when they don’t go down exactly right! But I sit there like a good girl and actually tilt my face up to make it easier. I don’t bite, I don’t scratch, I don’t run away. They praise me for my posture, as they should.
I also have…a sensitive tummy. I can only eat one type of food—rabbit. They grind it up and make it into crunchy food and wet canned food. It’s so good, especially when Mom puts the wet food in the microwave for 5 seconds. Mmmmm. The thing is, I happen to love the smell of people food, particularly toast with butter and jelly, Indian food, and, well, basically anything. Except for mint gum, I hate the smell of that. And oranges. But anyway, if I ever do get any other kind of food except for rabbit, I have an upset tummy, and it’s uncomfortable for everyone. So I’m good, except when Dad’s not around sometimes Mom lets me lick the crumbs off of her toast plate. Thanks, Mom.
So I think I’m going to the doctor soon. I’ve heard talk of a “checkup” and “Let’s see what they say.” The other day I heard them talking about some shot that costs a thousand dollars. It takes care of a thyroid problem, but it makes you radioactive for days. You have to stay away from everyone. I don’t like the sound of that at all. Mom and Dad are always talking about how they don’t have any money, so I don’t think I’ll be getting that expensive shot. Thank goodness. But I might have to take more pills.
And when I go to the doctor, I think they’re gonna take blood from me, which I really don’t like. Apparently, I have small veins, as a princess should, and it’s really hard for them to get blood from me. It’s not my fault! One time, I’m not making this up, they stuck a needle in my throat. My throat! If they try that again, I’ll…well, I guess I’ll do what I did last time, which is grip the table with all my might and just suck it up. Sigh, what can I do? I know they mean well. It’s all for my health, blah blah blah. But let me tell you, the vet’s office is no fun. It smells like dogs. Maybe my weight loss is just due to age. I’ll be 15 in a month. And I don’t look or act a day over 10, I swear.
Wish me luck. And hey, if you’re done with that toast plate, can I lick the crumbs?
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com
