My Cat, the Stoner

For a variety of reasons, I planted a lot of catnip this spring.  It's a useful and mild medicinal, reportedly good at repelling flea beetles from garden crops, and most famously attractive to cats.  I took some pains to protect the tiny live plants I ordered from Richters.  I asked for a dozen of the smallest, cheapest plants, figuring that if I had many of them there was a better chance that at least some of them would survive.  After planting about ten of them near each other, I laid the chicken greens feeder over them to keep the cats from either eating them whole, ripping them out of the ground, or simply rolling them to death.  They had a few inches of protected headspace, but any part of the plant that grew taller than that was subject to feline depredations.

It worked.  At least seven of those ten plants survived, and it didn't take too long before I was able to remove the protection of the greens feeder.  Being a hardy mint family member, the catnip can now stand up to whatever abuse the neighborhood cats can dish out.

I find our cat Mojo lying between the fence and the catnip quite often.  It's one of his favorite hangout spots, for good reasons: it's sunny, he can hide himself behind the herb and still have a commanding view of the whole yard, and if startled can slip under the fence to the neighbor's property.  Mojo is one of the most resolutely cheerful cats I've ever known.  Unless made nervous by strangers or a strange situation, he's always in a good mood, a regular Mr. Bliss.  So he hardly seems the type to need routine self-medication.  Or maybe I have it all wrong and he's so happy because he has such easy access to kitty dope.  Maybe he'll get cranky and go into withdrawal when the plant dies down for the winter.

The thing I've noticed though about catnip is that its effect on cats seems inherently self-limiting.  No matter how drugged out cats get by smelling or ingesting catnip, it only seems to last about 15-20 minutes.  Repeated exposure after that has little effect. Yet Mo' will hang out in that spot for hours on a nice day.  Maybe he just has wholly positive associations with that place.  Or maybe he doesn't want to share with other cats, so he guards his supply.

I'm not much for recreational drugs myself, but my stoner kitty does make me ponder several questions.  Is there any sense in making a plant - a natural living thing - illegal?  Do cats have more self restraint than humans when it comes to psychoactive herbs?  Do the ills of human society lead to addictions where a more balanced existence would allow us to use natural drugs recreationally without such complications?  Or is it the added complexity of the human brain as compared with a cat's brain?  Or is our tendency to synthesize natural substances into more potent drugs the real problem?   I can't see that my cat comes to any harm, or creates any harm, by indulging in a profound high fairly frequently.  Granted, he's not pregnant, and I have no idea how catnip would affect feline fetuses.  Also, he doesn't smoke catnip, or take synthesized tabs of 'nip at a kitty rave.  And perhaps if he did, the drug would affect him differently.  All he can do is eat it or roll in it.  Either seems to work for him.  I think animals have their own wisdom sometimes, and I'm still puzzling out the lessons of cats and catnip.

Anyhow, it's nice to know I've got a homegrown supply of kitty happy leaf and that my cat can get stoned frugally.  Next year I'll have enough catnip to derive some benefit from it myself.  And yes, if you were wondering, this post is at least partly just an excuse to display pictures of the cat.

Big Carrot Love

One never knows how big the carrot is until it's pulled from the earth.  All in our household were instantly smitten by this one.  10.6 ounces, in all its glory.  Went well with garden eggplant and tofu with toasted sesame oil and ginger.

Meet Lucy & Mojo, Plus the Best Cat Toy Ever!

We have cats once again.

Lucy is black but for a few white hairs in her ears, and a tiny patch under her collar. I've never had a black cat before and have discovered that she becomes nearly invisible against a navy blue blanket. This is especially true in dim lighting, or whenever she closes her preternaturally orange eyes. Her fur has the silkiest texture I've ever encountered in any cat. Her personality is completely sweet and trusting, but her appearance is sometimes downright demonic. We call her "The Hellcat" when she's looking particularly impish, and "Lulu" when she's playful as only a kitten can be.

Then there's Mojo: long, lanky, and stripey. Though well beyond the kitten stage, he's still not quite full grown by the looks of his big paws. I reckon he'll be growing into those. His personality is the oddest combination of skittishness and trust I've ever seen in a cat. He startles easily, but also gets comfortable with people (who aren't moving around) very quickly, and definitely wants to lavish and be lavished with affection. We're hoping that plenty of exercise and a little time will mellow out his slightly high-strung nature. He was cooped up in a small area before we got him. He is astonishingly strong and muscular for his sleek frame.

Fortunately his disposition is such that he doesn't bully Lucy, because he could easily roll her if he chose to. In fact, they get along just fine, which is a relief. Both cats came from shelters, and we paid less for them than it would have cost us for the feline leukemia testing, vaccinations, and spaying/neutering that they've already had done.

Much as I enjoy showing off the new additions to the family, there are a couple of frugality angles to this post. While Lucy and Mojo are pets, not livestock, they will still be expected to earn their keep. The old farmhouse we live in has mice in the attic. We can live with that, though we do set out traps and will leave the attic door open in summer so the cats have access to the rodents' chosen living area. What we can't tolerate is rodents in any other part of the house, especially anywhere near where we keep our food. Keeping cats means the rodents remain a respectful distance from our living areas. I will also want rodent patrol outside during the warmer months of the year. Voles and mice are not welcome in the garden, in the garage (where we keep our potatoes and other crops at certain times of year), nor where the chicken feed is kept.

So yes, our cats are intended to be both companions and mousers. To that end, we train them. And here's where the second frugality angle comes in.

Best cat toy. Ever.

When I met my husband-to-be, I had two cats, one of which was still a kitten (and whom we just put down in December). He adored them, which scored points with me. He also made them the best cat toy ever - I kid you not. More points scored. I say it's the best cat toy for two reasons. One, because it's insanely easy and cheap to make, and what little wear and tear it sustains can be easily repaired. And two, because cats find it deliriously compelling. I'm telling you, this toy is irresistible to young cats - far more so than those expensive feathery toys sold at pet stores. Even our fourteen-year-old cat would still take a swipe at it up to a month before she died. The only downside is that this is an interactive toy. You have to work it. But I've never seen another cat toy that cats will chase and chase and chase until they are lying on the ground, abdomens heaving, and panting open-mouthed, trying to catch their breath. Then they'll get right up and chase it some more. Fifteen minutes of this treatment will wear out a kitten to the point that a nap is in order.

All it takes to make this toy is a cheap length of spring steel, a pair of needle-nosed pliers, a tiny bit of gaffer's tape, and a few lengths cut from the twine handles of a brown paper shopping bag. The spring steel should cost about a dollar, if that. Choose one that is neither too stiff nor too flexible. You may want to buy a few pieces to ensure you've chosen one with the right amount of give, because I can't really describe it much better. You'll learn by observation. When you've got your spring steel, cut three or four short lengths from the twine handles, about 1"/3cm each. Poke small holes through the center of each piece and thread them onto the spring steel. Using the needle-nosed pliers, bend over a very short section at the end of the spring steel to create a stop. Bind this metal loop tightly with a narrow strip of gaffer's tape. You'll need to cut the tape to make a sufficiently narrow piece, and make it long enough to wrap around the metal several times. At the other end of the steel you'll want a little something to hang on to. Bend over a longer length of steel and bind it just the way you did on the far end. It doesn't take much; you don't need to make it the width of your hand. Just an inch or so will do, so that you don't lose hold of the toy.

Play with your cats by running the twine pieces along the floor, up the walls, or through the air above their heads. Young cats will learn to track these pieces with chilling efficiency. You are helping them hone their predatory instincts, and you'll find you need to change up the patterns of movement fairly often. I find it curious that young cats most enjoy play that trains them to do what they were born to do - the very "work" I want them to do for me. Eventually, the twine pieces will be chewed, clawed, and frayed into deterioration. It's trivially easy to replace them. Just take the gaffer's tape off the small hook, unbend it, thread a few new pieces of twine on, and redo the hook with pliers and tape.

One note of caution: if your cat catches this toy in her claws, do not violently yank it away from her. I made that mistake once with my last cat and found that one her claws was bloodied at the cuticle. It didn't seem to bother her; she was still eager to play and walked around just fine. But I felt awful and quickly learned to respect the grip she had on the toy.

Loss

On Wednesday afternoon we put down our beloved cat. She'd had a good fourteen and a half years of life, all but a couple months of it with me, and was an inveterate mouser right up through mid-November. With three serious health strikes against her (kidney failure, cancer, and hyperthyroidism), I'm amazed she made it as far as she did. I'm grateful her decline was fairly swift rather than lingering.

Though she carried complaint and plaintive protest to an art form, and was never a lap cat, when she was happy and cuddled up beside us, the world was a sunny and benevolent place. She was a bright spirit, The Cutest Cat Ever, and a melter of hearts. This, coming from someone who has been around cats for four decades. Whenever the day was a bad one, she made things bettery.

It is always hard to put down a dear pet. As much as I miss her, I am glad - relieved in fact - that her decline is over. In a way the anticipation of putting her down was worse than dealing with the reality of her death. I'm surprised how very much it helps me to have the hens to care for. They are not pets. But they are in the prime of their lives, and they are happy, lively creatures. When we put our last cat down, we still had one remaining to distract us from our grief. Now our house is without a cat, and so can hardly be called a home.

Although we knew the day was coming, and although we know that other cats will be a part of our lives one day, we exist now in a time of mourning. I don't want to rush to fill that space of loss. The bitter chill and the darkness of winter feel appropriate to our mood. Grief is the price of joy and loving and remaining alive. If I felt no pain, I would know that even if my heart still beat and I still drew breath, I would not be among the living. Life consists of both joy and pain; only that which is dead is beyond suffering. My periods of mourning for pets have been briefer than for people I have loved, but the grief is no less real or less deep.

Goodbye, and go well on your way, Little Kitty. We will always miss you.

Unexpected: $342.28

I spent much of yesterday at the veterinarian's office, dealing with my suddenly sick and very frail cat. She'd been delighted to see us over the weekend on our return from a four-day trip. She was her usual perky, social, affectionate, and vocal self. Tuesday morning she was walking shakily with her head held low, had watery eyes, and wasn't eating.

At the vet she was found to be dehydrated, and to have an elevated temperature. And she gave an unsolicited stool sample on the exam table. What can I say? Shit literally happens at a vet's office. The doctor was game enough to declare the offering useful for diagnostic tests. The good news is that most of the potential problems have been ruled out (feline leukemia, feline AIDS, kidney and liver failure), one problem has been diagnosed (roundworms), her dehydration was treated with subcutaneous fluids, and the remaining likely condition (thyroid) is treatable. She also ate some food overnight, used the litter box, and looks much better this morning, though she's still slower and more subdued than usual. She's now complaining about not being allowed outdoors.

The bad news is that the examination, treatment, blood work, and other tests cost me almost $350. My cat is going to be fourteen years old this summer, and while she's had her share of injuries from tussling with other animals, she's never before needed treatment for any kind of illness. In other words, we've been very lucky with her, given that she's an indoor-outdoor cat. But still, $350 is a lot of money. I can't say I'm thrilled about carving that extra amount out of our budget this month. Yes, we have a $25 line item for pet expenses each month that we have been routinely underspending. But we're not so disciplined as to keep that unspent money in a sub-account in some bank account. Fortunately, paying off the credit card isn't going to be a big problem for us, but it still more than doubles our average yearly expense for having a beloved feline companion in our lives.

I don't begrudge the cost. Having a pet is a serious commitment and responsibility, no less than having a child. Before I get jumped for that statement, I recognize that the responsibility for raising a child is much, much larger, more complicated, and legally enforceable. Nonetheless, both are cases of taking responsibility for the care and well being of another living creature. Getting a pet - or a farm animal - medical treatment when they need it is a moral imperative, in my opinion.

So I'm just going to wind up the post with a plea to potential pet owners, or pet owners who haven't yet experienced any costs beyond shots, spaying, and feed. Please remember that sooner or later your pet is likely to need treatment that will cost a significant chunk of change. Budget for it now, before it's needed. It's a terrible feeling to see your pet in pain or weak with illness. It was bad enough worrying about my cat's health. At least I didn't have the additional worry about where the money for her treatment would come from. Please, please, please don't let poor planning put you in the position of being unable to care for an animal that you have chosen to make dependent upon you. Over a pet's lifetime, you're likely to need upwards of $1500 for their food and medical costs. Plan for unexpected expenses. They'll happen sooner or later.