Allie Griffith

Allie Griffith
Location
Memphis, Tennessee,
Bio
Writer, game developer, artist. Also raconteuse, dilettante, and passionate advocate. I've been called an angel of wisdom and I've been called a judgmental idiot. Sooner or later I'm bound to say something that you disagree with; feel free to tell me your side of the story. I listen to other people's opinions and have occasionally been known to concede that they might have a point and alter mine. I use too many semicolons and I have terrible taste in music. I'm the sort of person who thinks it's more telling to mention that than that I'm married and had a foster daughter but she's grown now. By objective standards, my life is probably a disaster - no health insurance and a chronic illness - but my happiness quotient is the highest of anyone I know. Sometimes I tell sad stories but please don't let them make you sad.

Allie Griffith's Links

Salon.com
APRIL 22, 2009 7:16PM

My cat is sad

Rate: 14 Flag

It was that time. The Siamese kitten we got the day Obama was elected is eight months old now, and he had gone from being embarrassing (constant, meditative licking of his little pink personal places) and sometimes testy, to being aggressive towards the Black Cat. No spraying yet, but that would have followed soon enough, and so tonight he is at the vet's, recovering from being snipped. The vet likes to keep them overnight because he's had a couple of bad experiences with cats who crashed trying to jump on counters while still being a little groggy from anesthesia.

And Black Cat is sad. The last time we loaded a cat (White Cat) into the carrier and took him away, he never came home again. Black Cat never liked the kitten much while he was here - in fact the kitten ate half of whatever snippets we gave them from the dinner table, and stared at him in the litter box until he developed serious constipation - but that doesn't mean he wanted him to go away and not come back.

He is telling me this now, with a gentle pat on my leg as I sit at the computer, and a soft, doleful mewing. This isn't his usual trill, but a strained, lower sound.

The kitten wasn't allowed to eat or drink last night before his operation. Because they eat together, it was easiest just to take the bowls away from both of them.  And we coincidentally ran out of food yesterday. So I'm pretty sure Black Cat thinks that we ran out of food, and we decided to solve the problem by getting rid of the kitten so there would be enough. We bought new food on the way home from the vet's, and gave it to him. And he, who had been whining desperately all night about his missing bowl, looked at the full bowl, took a turn around the living room, then went over in a corner and curled up in a miserable heap on the floor without touching it. Not even on the sofa where he usually sleeps. Too many sad memories of the kitten chewing his ears off - Go away, ya bug me, kid!

I'm not sure how much Black Cat remembers from day to day. Some cats seem almost human. My Blackie is not one of those. Behind his saturnine visage lurks no hidden cunning. He is sturdy, one leg at each corner like a table, with absurdly tiny feet that make his legs look pointed. If you rub his back in the right spot he will rock his head from side to side like Stevie Wonder. Also like Wonder, he enjoys playing the piano. He learned to recognize the distinctive wrapper of King Oscar's Sardines after seeing it only twice. He also recognizes the box of Christmas tree ornaments from year to year when it is brought down from the attic, and rolls about in delighted antipation of our bringing the tree home. But I'm not sure how much he remembers the White Cat, who died. I'm not sure he remembers how lonely he was, how he followed me from room to room meowing for two months straight, how he, who never sat on anyone's lap before, suddenly wanted to sit on my lap and be cuddled. I doubt that he realizes it was partially for his sake that we brought home the kitten, or how much we cheered each time he withdrew from his sullen silence to chase the kitten down the hallway or tumble him over in a ball or let him lick the inside of the soup can first. 

But he remembers something. 

He is sitting at my feet right now. 

I wonder if he will be surprised tomorrow when we bring the kitten home?

 

My two cats in a rare moment of peace

 

 

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Comments

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Aw. I have a Black Cat of my own, and he's not too fond of anyone...especially the Little Guy. He'd probably be relieved if the little one never came back...
Awww, Black Cat going to be very surprised tomorrow!!! He'll be like, HURRAY!! THEY DIDN'T GET RID OF THE OTHER CAT...hey wait, they didn't....THEM ROTTEN NO GOOD...;)
Lots of cat people here who are always ready for a cat blog, especially a really good, black and white cat blog.

Love from my Maine Coon, Sweetie.
I have a 15 year old tabby named Jane. SHE IS THE BEST CAT IN THE UNIVERSE. honest. My daughter keeps angling for a kitten. But I could not do that to Jane. Jane is Queen. I could never upset her. So NO kitten. When (if) Jane (ever) dies I will get another cat. But Jane rules. So No Other Cat.

I can understand Black Cat hoping for the best.
He will be delighted. Well, after he hisses at the kitten because he smells like the vet.

It's good to make blog posts about your pets.
Animals are good people.
My dad had a tomcat, who, as a kitten, would lick himself bald while purring like a motorboat and losing all concept of his surroundings. He'd do it on top of the fridge and not realize that in his zealousness he'd come to the edge. Then he'd fall off and NOT land on his feet. He'd get up, look a bit stunned, shake himself off, and go back to licking. The cat did this so much he had no hair surrounding his genitals. The vet couldn't find any source of irritation, so we came to the conclusion that the cat just really liked masturbating.
oh my god, that photo!!!! ohhh, i miss p.kitty soooo much. before that i had bobby seale the black panther. and the kitten. shit. you're killing me here. and your writing!! i always forget a little how stunning your writing is. i'm so glad that you rally get it that animals have emotions. not only that, they can find another being a giant pain in the ass and still love that creature and miss it fiercely.

now you've almost convinced me that they do actively think about stuff. and that their memories and versions of time and unpredictable. i'm all overr the place, sorry. but this piece is just excellent, as is all your stuff. love love love and gratitude for this prose and for everything that you are. you are an exceptionally kind and caring person.
He's going to be one big black happy kitty, and I'll bet he runs over and licks the little one's ears. Either that or swats him for a nerve-wracking night.

I for one am glad you're writing about your pets!!!
Such a sweet picture. As Odette said, Black Cat will hiss at the kitten because of vet smell, but will be very glad to have a companion again.
If only humans were this compassionate. I hope black cat rejoices when you bring the kitten home. Beautifully written.
I cannot believe how much your picture resembles one of my Siamese boy and the stray cat who came into our lives. Three years later and the stray is dying of bone cancer and I am very afraid of how the boy will react.
My senior cat, just out of kittenhood herself, moped all day when the youngster was at the vet getting snipped.
how is black cat doing with the kitty? we need an update. love love love
Okay okay update!

Our little boy sure is a Siamese, all right. We went to pick him up from the vet and the first sign of him was a hoarse, guttural "MROWWWP!" which we could hear all the way from the back room.

Repeated, every ten seconds, all during the ride home. Which is not a short ride, since we use the same country vet I used while growing up.

Got home. Kitten stalks out of the carrier, a little bandy-legged (ouch!) and mrowps up the stairs in a fit of pique. Mrowp! Mrowp! Mrowp! There's a story behind this. Every time I go upstairs, the kitten escorts me, and I get to pet him and pick him up and he purrs. But only on the stairs. In any part of the house other than the stairs, kitten allows my husband to pet him, but disdainfully ducks away when I do.

Apparently, post-vet-visit, my husband (who put him in the carrier to take him to the vet) is Persona Non Grata and baby wants his mommy. But he is a creature of habit, so this is only possible - while perched on the staircase.

So I petted him thoroughly and even picked him up and snuggled him a little, and headed down the stairs. Mrowp! Mrowp! MROWWWP! Back up the stairs. More petting. It took three times of this for him to work himself out of his fit enough to follow me down, and even longer for him to acknowledge my husband.

During this whole process, I think Black Cat opened one eye. And then he got up and went to his food bowl, which he had not touched all night, and ate one whole bowl of food. And then he ate all of the kitten's food, down to the point where he could see the bottom of the metal bowl gleaming. Black Cat will never eat all of a bowl, you understand. He eats until he can glimpse the bottom and then stops and begs for more, even if there is half a bowl left only shoved to the side. Shaking the food to cover the bottom does not work and only gets Black Cat to glare balefully. You must add new food, even if only a few crumbs.

Eventually Black Cat does venture over to sniff the returned prodigal. He sniffs him, licks him a little (kitten does smell funny) and goes and lies down. And rolls and rolls, smiling, doing his cutest poses with his little bunny paws in the air. Yeah, he's happy all right. Is he going to be nice to that plaguey kitten? Hell no. But he's happy.