I have three housemates: a two-legged one who happens to be my very amiable photography muse, and two four-legged ones who would prefer that all mobile phones, cameras and iPads be vamoosed from existence. The two senior kitties are of course no strangers to this blog,
We switched brushes a couple of months ago, and began using the FURminator, which neither feline appreciates, but I love because it has significantly reduced the knots in their fur, and has magically transformed my grumpy Berliner cats into walking clouds.
Cherry is at her worst behaviour when it comes to grooming. She does a great job on her own and resents my interference with the brush, electric razor or scissors, in no particular order. She hates me to no end when I show up with either instrument of torture, leaves political statements and vicious reviews on my arms and chest, followed by a sassy attitude that has her fuming dark smoke for a few hours. On most days I can bribe my way back into her good graces with kitty treats, but on the days when I get the vampire fangs flashed at and I have to tighten my grip on her scruff I know I am being inwardly banished to kingdom come.
Lolita on the other hand, is a doll to brush. She’s like a floppy Raggedy Ann who is amusing to look at, doesn’t complain and lets me flip and flop her in any which way. Her grooming is done in a fraction of a time that Cherry’s, with no ad hoc bitching involved. The advantage of feline dementia is that five minutes after the whole event she has completely forgotten it, just like she forgets that she has had her lunch or dinner already.
Both ladies have done very well this summer, perhaps because we had a relatively mild one this year, but they have understood the concept of an electric fan and do not resent the one-legged creature that blows air during the day. Old age is creeping up on both of them though, and neither of them can be bothered to be up at the crack of dawn for entertainment and philosophical life-altering conversations. Potty breaks are a must and so are hairball barf parties, but post-midnight chin wags are canceled, since we need our beauty snores.
Before they came to live with me neither cat understood TV, internet or music. They have since developed an understanding and appreciation for YouTube bird and squirrel videos, as well as very (VERY) discerning tastes in music.
* Korean Pop is a huge no,
* Led Zeppelin and Co. are also out,
* Country music may not be played longer than 15 minutes otherwise even Lolita who is half deaf will relinquish her sunny disposition.
* Smooth jazz, new age are acceptable for prolonged periods
* if pop involves one singer, or instrumental music means only a single instrument, then it is deemed soothing or good enough to sleep to.
* I thought all forms of opera and pop opera were acceptable to Lolita (Cherry doesn’t give a rat’s ass for opera) but Madam has become fussy in her old age… female opera singers are banned, and so are opera groups consisting of more than four tenors. I pause for the eye roll…
Geez, I thought I was just cat mom and had to feed and groom, but now I have to play freaking DJ to them as well? My fault for introducing them music in the first place, I know.
The geriatric torture doesn’t stop at music either and the once-upon-a-kitty-time-shelter-adoptees have now become bratty gourmands. Paste is better than chunks, fowl yes, veal, venison, and beef no. Organic and grain-free yes, cheap supermarket house brands also yes, but absolutely nothing that swims.
Nevertheless, despite their now apparent cloud diva sass, their work ethic has also improved. Who said you can’t teach an old cat new tricks? Division of labour is important to them because neither one can handle full time employment. Lolita is my reading buddy, whereas Cherry is my writing pal. Don’t snitch on them, but they do tend to sleep on the job… but that is the risk when hiring senior experts.