Kittens pay the price for having a junk yard diet

The past winter was a wet and windy one and my cats were content to be safe and warm inside. Sissy, in particular, was rarely any place other than cuddled among the socks on a shelf in my bedroom closet. No gusty winds, no debris flying about, no sudden down pours getting her fur all messed up. Nope, not for her. In fact, as I got to know her habits better, she never made an appearance in the living room without having adjusted her fur, pawed her whiskers until they were presentable, and, I suppose, gathered up enough daring to risk being seen out in public. When she did appear, it was greeted by me with hushed praise and by any guests with silence and whispers, “Don’t scare her off.”

Sissy would take a few bites and rush off or hop into the litter box, do her stuff and scurry away without covering it up. Andy would often then head toward the litter box, jump in and finish what his sister started. Thank you, Andy.

I learned something else about my wards’ upbringing in a junk yard. They were quite accustomed to eating people food. The extent of this familiarity was startling.

My work schedule usually put me back at home around 7 p.m. I was famished and the cats were ready for something special to eat. They are free feeders and, God forbid, the bowl of kibbles ever not runneth over. I’ve paid the consequences when in the middle of the night big old Uncle Fred comes down on my chest full force to let me know the kittens had eaten it all. His other trick is to creep onto the bed and slowly make his way to where my face is. Then move very cautiously ever closer using his whiskers to tickle my cheek or eyelid. I’d open my eyes to see his face 5 centimeters from mine. It’s a devious and heart-arresting way to say “the damn dish is empty again.” Freddie, during his ten years with me, has made very few demands of me. He’s as docile as any cat could ever be. He’s willing to agree to stay indoors although he’d rather be in the garden. He sits on my lap unbegrudgingly for a good brushing. But, the line in the sand appears at the bottom of the kibbles bowl.

So, I was having a sandwich with my feet stretched out in front of me on the bed and Jeopardy on the TV. I was concentrating on the answer and ready to shout out the question when I looked down. The chins of two kittens were resting on the edge of my plate. From the look in their eyes, they were ready to pounce on my ham and cheese. I tested my conclusion by pulling pieces of Swiss from between the bread. Oooo, they liked that. My previous cats could have cared less about people food unless it was some fresh ground meat, a raw chicken liver or a few bites of rare filet! These two, however, had I was thinking pretty much grown up on it.

My conclusion was proved correct when I was enjoying a still hot slice of pan pizza from Pizza Hut and again watching Jeopardy. I shouted out the right question and none of the panelists knew it. (Of course, I can’t remember what it was now.) I was proud of myself and feeling so puffed up. I looked down to see my little Sissy had sunk her teeth into the crust and was dragging the slice off the plate onto the bedspread. No!

After that, extra caution was put into place to make certain an eye was always on the kittens while I was having my own supper and without regard to how much or what cat food had previously been consumed by them. They were always ready for more. They were caught inside my cereal bowl as I was looking at my phone – come to think of it, any casual dining of mine where they had access had them check out what was on the menu. Dishes had to go immediately into the sink or there would be kitty faces sunk inside them. It was cute behavior but not good for them.

One afternoon, Andy had jumped up on my lap and was cuddling. He has a very soft purr, nothing like the concert hall pipes of his diva sister. I had noticed he was leaving little “marks” on the bathroom counter top wherever he sat and that his anus looked inflamed. When I lifted his tail on this occasion, I was shocked. A bright white round worm was coming from him. It was the size of a piece of spaghetti. I immediately got a paper towel and killed it. And, shortly afterward, I was on the phone with the Romie Lane Animal Hospital making an appointment for all three of them to get dewormed. The junk yard diet had a price.

(to be continued)