The cat who wouldn't brush her teeth
Several years ago, my #2 son decided to make his life more simple and mine more complicated by bringing his beautiful, but mentally disturbed gray and white feline Princess Leia to live with me in the scenic wilds of rural Tillman.
In my son's defense, his cat's mental state was not his fault. His next door neighbor was irate, because the cat "did potty" in her prize petunias. To placate the neighbor, my son and his lovely wife Laura banished Princess Leia to the confines of their nice big shed.
If you know the nature of a cat, you can predict the results: No shed, however large, is big enough for a predator as wild as a cat.
Princess Leia went FERAL. She reverted to a cat's original nature and became a wild thing, roaming the confines of her narrow walls, seeking a way out.
My son and his wife bowed to the inevitable. There was no way for them to keep the beautiful Princess--and besides, Mom had a big farm with lots of room for sweet kitty to roam, catching the mice under the porch and preying on the songbirds that came to Mom's birdfeeders.
Ah...there were delightful treats--indigo buntings, and fledgling baby wrens, whose mothers foolishly built nests on that same porch.
It was a nearly perfect situation for the gray cat. The only fly in the ointment was the presence of three large dogs. However, my son wisely introduced these rowdy rural canines to their new sister gradually, impressing upon them that she was, indeed, a part of the family.
And, of course, there were the CLAWS. Oh, yes, the claws were introduced to the inquiring noses in a decisive and quite painful fashion.
"Keep your distance!" said the claws.
Even the border collie had to acknowledge the fearsomeness of those claws!
Thus, a kind of peaceful coexistence descended upon the house in the Tillman wilderness, broken by an occasional violent outburst, when the border collie saw the cat outside her area--or when company came.
When company came--oh, yes, there's the rub.
Enter my sister, a confirmed cat lover. Sitting peacefully in the glider on my front porch, she was so pleased to see Princess Leia jump on her lap, purring sweetly, wanting to be petted.
So, of course, my sister petted her. MISTAKE!!! This sweet, demented gray cat CHOMPED down on her hand, crushing it between her jaws!!!
Though the bite did not break the skin, my sister temporarily lost the feeling in her hand.
We decided to give the cat another chance.
Some time later, she snagged my daughter's hand with a very sharp claw--as she was being fed!!!!
Mistake #2.
Transgression #3 came a few months ago, when I neglected to put on my gloves to feed the Devil Cat. Yes, yes--Miss Princess bit the hand that feeds her!!!
For this reason, she is now referred to as "Scratchy Cat," and my grandchildren are warned to avoid her at all costs. This is not difficult, as the cat hides from children, a fact that has saved her life many times over. If she weren't a good mouser, able to go in places where the dogs can't go, she would be history!
Once a year, I trick her into a large pet carrier and take her to the vet to be trimmed and receive her shots.
And, would you believe--my nearly-feral, vicious devil cat has lulled the vet staff into a false sense of security. They think she's the sweetest thing!!
This year, when I picked her up, I was given a note from the vet that her teeth were dirty.
I received a toothbrush!
What??
The vet wants me to brush her teeth???
When I told my daughter this unwelcome news, she said, "Brush her teeth?? I'm not brushing her teeth! You'll draw back a bloody nub, if you try to brush her teeth!!"
My sister took one look at the toothbrush, raised one eyebrow, and said, "I don't think that toothbrush is nearly long enough!"
I've put the toothbrush into a drawer. I'll probably use it to clean the grout in the bathroom... At least that won't bite back!
Respond to this blog
Posting a comment requires free registration:
- If you already have an account, follow this link to login
- Otherwise, follow this link to register