It starts with a visit
A chance to be
With loved ones
Who you rarely see
They show you their house
They show you their town
They take the whole day
Just to show you around.
Then the cat shows up.
“Don’t try petting him. That’s a feral cat we took in. Not really a people-cat.”
In a previous tale, I made an attempt to transfer the crazy of cat people to the people who raise yard chickens. Read it here.
I am taking the crown away from the chicken people and not just giving it back, but gluing it to the heads of the cat people.
For the life of me, I do not understand why people try to rescue feral cats. Feral cats are good for one thing: making more feral cats.
I’m sure they eat a few mice, but so do snakes. And most people only want to see snakes dead.
I love these people; they are kinfolk. But they are kinfolk from my wife’s side, so I am absolved of any shared DNA.
The problem isn’t just that they’ve taken in a feral cat, it’s that they have other cats. And one of the other cats and Feral Boy just don’t get along.
So what we have here is what us Southerners would call a good, old-fashioned p*ssing contest. Except in this case, it’s literal.
When one cat ‘marks’ their spot, the other cat must come along and override that marking with a mark of its own. And this is happening all over the house.
What Would Normal People Do?
Why ask? These are not normal people. So let me just tell you how this issue is being handled.
First, it’s a visit to the vet.
Initially, the veterinarian doesn’t mind. He’s got mouths to feed and bills to pay.
“Doctor, my cats don’t get along and are peeing all over the house. What can I do?”
“Nothing. It’s what cats that hate each other do. That’ll be $50.”
But these people keep coming back, over and over.
At some point, the vet decides he’d rather sift through the cat box for food than have to keep dealing with these people, so…
He thought and he thought
And he thought some more
How to keep these people
Away from his door.
Then the good doctor
He hatched a good plan
And it was so good
You could even call it grand!
“You know, there are therapists that deal with these situations. Perhaps you should find one.”
And just like that - *bam!* - he made these people someone else’s problem.
You have questions, I know. Like, where does one find a cat therapist? That one is too easy. The internet, of course.
A tougher question would be, why do two people from the boonies of Minnesota choose a therapist from Los Angeles?
I didn’t ask. I find asking fewer questions shortens the amount of time I have to spend hearing the answers.
What I learned anyway:
-the cats are involved in the video chat with the therapist
-she talks to the cats
-they don’t talk back (I made that up. It’s just a guess.)
-she recommended drugs. For the cats
-the cats are now on drugs
-cat therapy is expensive. Consider making it your profession.
Fast forward to that night. We’re having dinner with these people and this is asked:
“Have you seen the YouTube videos of the lady that teaches you how to massage a possum? That is so weird.”
Let’s see… you got one cat on Paxil to treat aggression, another cat on Xanax to help it chill out; your cats actually have their own profile at the local pharmacy because, you know… cats on drugs. You’ve paid someone calling themselves a cat therapist $500 to video chat with your cats. And… you spend your free time watching YouTube videos of a lady massaging possums.
And she’s the crazy one?
There are things
Across this land
Things we cannot
It’s not the dogs
It’s not the cats
The real dingbats.
And I need a drink.