In your face

Posted on October 16, 2002 in Cats

Tracy knows that I keep a bag of cat treats over the computer. She won’t go after them because she’s become arthritic and the other cats don’t know the secret niche between the Harper Dictionary of Modern Thought and Herman’s Writer’s Guide to Book Editors, etc. She waits for me to sit down in the computer chair, hops up on the other one, and claws me softly, imploring me for a bite. Her mews bring Ambrose and Virginia to the fore. The trio moans in perfect cacaphony until I relent.

Old age has worked its wispy magic on the old cat’s mind. She confuses other things that I eat, such as rice crackers, soy nuts, and Glucerna bars, for her special snack. Last night she hounded me for the baby carrots that I ate out of a ziplock bag. I showed her the orange roots, let her sniff it and realize that she didn’t want them. “Monkey Food”, I explained. And she would lie down, leaving me in peace for a few minutes until I reached for the bag again. Then she’d rise and cry for a sample. “It’s the same thing, Tracy,” I attempted to explain. When I got to the dregs of the bag, she barged in and stuck her nose deep. Took a healthy snort of the sweet roots. Then looked at me as if to say “That’s funny. I could have sworn they were Vienna Sausages.”