Monday, August 22, 2011


I didn't name my cat - he came with that name.  He doesn't answer to it so he probably doesn't regard it as his name.  I call him sugar booger.  There's a long story about how we came to have him, but it's not that interesting so I'll just say that he's a rescue cat and an odd one.  He has a very fast heartbeat, weighs almost nothing (he looks like he's almost starved if you look at him from the top), can't purr because of an injury to his neck and has the worst breath you can imagine.  He's also the most loving cat I've ever known.  I tell people he's on a mission to love as many people as he possibly can - he works really hard at it.  Since I'm often the only one here, he showers love on me every day.  He joins me in my morning meditation and his sweet spirit lifts mine. 

A few weeks ago he stopped grooming himself and began to look really scruffy.  At the same time he started peeing in places besides his cat box and drinking out of dishes soaking in the sink.  So I took him to the vet because I though he was sick.  The diagnosis?  He's old.  The vet said that sometimes when cats get old they get eccentric and want their potty boxes to be pristine before they use them, their water changed every day or more, and someone else (me) to groom them.  So...I am now the faithful servant of my sweet spirited companion.  He expects me to get to work the minute I get up.  He looks at me expectantly as I pour my first cup of coffee.  He is willing to put up with my having two cups before he gets insistent.  If I don't get to work right then, he just heaves a sigh (figuratively) and goes back to bed to wait for me to remember my duties.  I usually change his water and clean his potty box first.  Then I wipe him down with a "cat wipe" (did you know there were such things - I got them at Petsmart) and then brush him thoroughly.  As I write this he is sitting patiently at my feet waiting, so I have to go...

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