Morty 2005 - 2023

Today, I was forced to make a difficult decision.

As you may know, Morty began losing weight rapidly, yet his check up last month left the vet scratching her head. His TFT and Renal Functions were good. She said I was "doing a great job of caring for a very sick cat" and she still can't believe he's lived this long with all his issues (Cardiomyopathy, Thyroid Disease, Kidney Disease and mini seizures). She said that due to his age (18) and all his issues, there was no point in putting him through invasive testing and to just keep on doing what I'm doing until something changes.

Well upon waking in the predawn hours this morning, I noticed that something did change. Drastically. His behavior was off. I took the day off and called the vet as soon as they opened. They said they would call me as soon as they could squeeze him in. That was at 2pm today.

The vet examined him and felt what she believed was a mass in his abdomen. She said that it would explain the sudden drastic weight loss, and other changes I had noted at his last visit. She said she truly felt that the right thing to do this point was to euthanize, because he will continue to get worse and he was no longer doing well.

Even though I know it was the most humane thing to do, it still breaks my heart. And I keep reminding myself that it's not another shoe drop, it's just life. And I'm grateful that Morty kicked ass for as long as he did because I know my son couldn't have handled another loss so soon after losing his dad. Not that it makes it any less painful, but I'm grateful that we had some time to heal before saying goodbye to another family member, albeit a floofy one.

For those who don't know, we adopted Morty 10 years ago along with his two senior housemates. Their owner died and apparently the shelter would not take them due to their older ages, so we took them. Morty was the youngest of the three, then 8 years old.

Morty was a true curmudgeon, though softened some over the years because we loved him hard. He wasn't good at catting...didn't care much for toys, and would spit out his cat treats. He rejected nearly every cat bed I ever bought him and preferred sleeping in the most uncomfortable places. He was not a fan of cuddling, but would allow us to pet him to a point. His favorite pastime was sitting on the deck and watch the neighbors through the railings. We used to pretend that he was yelling at kids to get off his lawn. In his old age, he would snuggle up to us and would actually tap us with his paw because he wanted to be petted. He would like to sit between my son and me on the couch. For this reason we would sometimes call him "Morty in the Middle".

He had other nicknames too:
Mortuccio
the tooch
Mortucci Bondaducci

(to name a few)

His cuteness was in direct proportion to his attitude. We are heartbroken.  We loved him and will miss him dearly.

More recently, and so very thin :(

Basket o' Morty

Snuggling hammock stand.

How is this comfortable?

Morty in the Middle

 

Easter and a Tale of Three Tails

"There is time for everything 
and every thing it its time." - E. Aster Bunnymund

"Mama, it's hard for rabbits to hide all those eggs", he said clutching a love-worn plush bunny.  "Flop", is his given name.  The brown hare arrived in his Easter basket when he was just a babe and has been his steadfast sleeping companion ever since.

I too had a prized plushy as a child, and it was also a rabbit.  He had long satin ears, the color of sky, and a white fur body.  Today, a vegetarian, I cringe at the thought of a real rabbit fur plushy, but as a wee girl I carried him with me everywhere and often by his ears.  Then one day I accidentally dropped him in the toilet.  The bunny was rescued and  washed which rendered him misshapen and matted.  The only recognizable features were his ears.  I was inconsolable.  So, my parents searched high and low for another.  Unable to find a twin, they found a plush kitten made of rabbit fur that was a very close match.  Unbeknownst to me they performed and ear-ectomy on the rabbit and transplanted them onto the kitten. 

When they presented him to me, it was as though they had performed some sort of magic.  I could not tell the difference.  Except for one thing.  I buried my nose in the fur.  It had a scent.  I will never forget that scent!  A heavenly scent, woodsy and wild.  The bunny had been my sleeping companion for some uncountable years.  I don't remember when my rabbit left.  One day he just disappeared as mysteriously as he arrived.

Time passed as time inevitably does.

I was 30 years old, living in New York City, and having the kind of adventures that grown-ups have.  I celebrated this pinnacle birthday with a sunset to sunrise party on the roof of my flat in Greenwich Village.  After the festivities, when everything settled into its ordinary rhythm, I received a visitor.  A friend came bearing a birthday gift.  He placed in my hands an adorable white and tan kitten with eyes the color of sky.  "Elvis" was his given name and I buried my face in his fur and kissed him.  The kitty was my steadfast sleeping companion for the next 18 years of my life.

It is said that olfactory memory was developed during evolution to help animals recognize other animals.  Herein lies one of the truest truths that nestles in my heart.  You see, I had forgotten about my childhood bunny until my 30th birthday, until the moment I kissed my kitten.  He smelled familiar.  He did not smell like my other cat, Sid.  He smelled unlike any other animal I had ever known.  I sniffed again and suddenly that unforgettable scent released all the memories of my childhood rabbit in vivid detail.  I couldn't believe it.  He smelled exactly like my rabbit.  I looked into his sky blue eyes astonished and breathed in the scent of him again and again.  Time passed as time inevitably does and Elvis disappeared from my life as mysteriously as he arrived...

and every Easter the cottontail delivers delightful treats to my boy- and a basket of sweet memories to my heart.

"Mama, can we get another cat?"
"One day."
"When...what kind?"
"Every thing in its time...I will know him when I smell him".

Hidden

Found

In his basket were tiny gifts all wrapped in grassy hued tissue paper: a bunny kaleidoscope, a balloon copter, an aquatic sandwich shaper, Satch-centric vintage hankies for his Spring allergies, a mushroom pencil sharpener eraser combo, and a carved wooden bunny pen!

His parental units equipped him to shoot for the moon.

Within This Silence

"My heart has joined the thousand,
for my friend stopped running today"
- Richard Adams (Watership Down)

This is the place where we buried the body of my beloved friend, Elvis. Over the bridge by the koi pond near the body of my other cat Sid, his buddy. I felt it was what Elvis would have wanted. Satch agrees.




This is the huge heart shaped rock that I found in the stream with Satch last summer. I took it with me to NY to mark his grave.

































Elvis was extremely intelligent, highly intuitive and my companion for some seventeen years...actually it was almost 18 years, but I'm still in denial. He had eyes the color of sky and breath that could peel paint. He had a lovely purr. Being of Siamese descent, he was also very vocal and my favorite mew sounded like, "Merroo". So that became one of his nicknames, Merroo. He had other aliases too, Elvis-R-Pelvis, Elvees, Peetzapeetz, Zing-Ding-Daka-Deeka-Doo, Merv, and Shingtoo-the-ninja-cat. You see, as T.S. Elliot pointed out, an ineffable cat must have (at least) 3 different names.

There are a few who got to know Elvis and they are grieving with us. Although this remarkable soul inhabited a cat's body, the loss is just as significant and devastating as any other.

Elvis cashed in a couple of his proverbial 9 lives when he was a youngster. Once was when he fell out of the window (I don't know how) of my Greenwich Village flat above the Sullivan Street Playhouse. Unharmed he had the good sense to scratch at the front door howling and an elderly neighbor figured that he must live there, found the door miraculously unlocked so he let him in. When I returned from work and Elvis wasn't there to greet me, I panicked and ran down the block asking if anyone had seen him. I saw this elderly gent and he told me what had transpired. I went back into my building, stood in the stairwell and called his name. There was a faint mew and then Elvis crawled out from beneath the staircase where he was hiding. Smart cat. He ALWAYS came when I called his name. Oh my heart.

The other time was when he chased a squirrel off of our roof. The squirrel jumped and grabbed the fire escape on the way down. Elvis leaped after him and (thankfully) landed in the window box outside my kitchen window. Again, my heart.

Elvis still had the wild in him and that is one of the things I loved most about him. That and his hugs. Yes, Elvis hugged...paws around the neck, cheek to cheek. I remember the time my Sensei was cat sitting for me and when I returned he approached me with an odd look on his face. He said, "Wendy...this is going to sound really crazy...but I swear...I think your cat hugs me". Oh did I laugh. I explained that he was not crazy and that Elvis did hug. He didn't hug everyone, he was discerning.

Once there was a fellow whom I dated briefly. He seemed nice enough. He was NYPD, however, something about him creeped me out and I just didn't know why. So, I introduced him to Elvis and my cat recoiled, stiffened then hissed when he came near. I said, "Don't touch my cat" and got rid of the dude. Elvis never did that before and never did that since. Seems Elvis was as much my guardian as I his.

Elvis gave me much laughter. Like the time my friend and I bought a Christmas tree for the flat and discovered it was a tad sparse. I went over to the plant district and bought a big bag of dried Baby's Breath to fill in the bare spots and the tree didn't looks so bad after all. The next morning when I woke it looked like it had snowed in the living room. Elvis was leaping at the tree and Baby's Breath was flying everywhere. I don't know why, but this particular flower put Elvis into a frenzy, it was like catnip only more intense. So I grew some on the roof for him.

When he was a youngster he liked to play fetch. As he got older he became fond of rubber bands and liked to fling them in the air with his teeth and then bat them. He HATED koosh balls and if they touched his fur he would immediately clean the spot where it touched him.

He loved tissue paper which made gift wrapping especially tricky. He liked to leap right through the sheets, roll on them, and tear them. He did the same gravity defying maneuvers whenever I made the bed, hurling his body into the billowing sheets. I often resorted to making the bed on top of him while he tunneled around like a mole, and eventually crawled out from under.

Elvis always made it clear what he wanted. Milk? He swatted the refrigerator door and mewed. Food? He'd open the cabinet and howl. If I didn't respond to him fast enough he would jump on the counter and swat things off. To his credit, he would do this slowly...like an inch or so at a time. If something broke it was truly my own damn fault.

When Elvis was a kitten he slept on my neck. He wouldn't have it any other way, then he became Sid's beloved and the two of them slept wrapped around one another. That is where he slept until Sid died. After that he found a number of different nests. For the last two years it has been the window of my art studio. As you can imagine, it makes sitting here typing this very painful because I'm so used to him being there.

The last few months Elvis would join Satch for his bedtime story. He was like clockwork and if there were any delays, we would find Elvis already in bed waiting. This was one of the gifts he gave Satch. Clearly he touched Satch in the same way he had touched me. Satch grieved as fiercely as I. He sobbed, "He was a wonderful, beautiful cat...I am going to miss his purr...it is too painful for me like a balloon of sadness".

Elvis stopped eating like he did two years ago. Only then I felt it wasn't his time. The tests came up empty. We hired a pet nurse to hydrate him and feed him and he rebounded and life was good. Then nearly two years later he stopped eating again. This time we learned he had hyperthyroidism so we began transdermal meds immediately. He seemed to get better, then suddenly worse. Further tests revealed that he had numerous age related issues that would be impossible if not cruel to try to treat. We discharged him from the animal hospital and took him home. We cried. Robert stayed up with Elvis for most of the night while I snuggled Satch. None of us slept really.

I told Satch to take a good look at Elvis and try to see that he had used up his body and was ready to leave it behind. I told him that we would help Elvis do that, it was our duty because we love him so. It would be the hardest, saddest thing, but also the most loving thing we could do for him. I told him that I alone would be with Elvis when he left his body, but afterward he could hold him. I told him that he would see for himself that his body was like a shell for his spirit. I told him that I believe his spirit will always be with us, even though his cat body must go back to the earth. I told him that Elvis came here in a cat body and cat bodies don't live as long as human bodies. And even though he came to us in a cat body, he is still family and that is why I believe his spirit will always be with us.

The next morning I called Dr. Brook to come to our home and help free Elvis from his failing body. Elvis picked a spot on the sofa and laid down. He rested his head in my hands and I kissed him repeatedly, whispering, "I love you...thank you for being my cat...Sid is waiting for you...find Sid...I love you...I love you". He was purring. When he left his body behind he was purring. Afterward the doctor and I sat there and cried. She stroked his hind legs gently, then hugged me before leaving. She rearranged her appointments to help us, kind and compassionate.

Words can't express the depth of love, nor the sorrow I feel. I will miss him always, all ways.

I took the tag from the collar that he wore on Sullivan St. He didn't wear a collar when we lived in Battery Park City because the chances of him getting outside the high rise were nil. I placed it on my talisman necklace next to Sid's.

















To Learn From Animal Being by John O'Donohue

Nearer to the earth's heart;
Deeper within its silence;
Animals know this world
In a way we never will...

May we learn to return
And rest in the beauty
Of animal being,
Learn to lean low,
Leave our locked minds,
And with freed senses
Feel the earth
Breathing with us.

May we enter
Into lightness of spirit,
And slip frequently into
The feel of the wild...

May we learn to walk
Upon the earth
With all their confidence
And clear-eyed stillness
So that our minds
May be baptized
In the name of the wind
And the light and the rain.






















In loving memory of Elvis the Cat October 1992 - September 23, 2010

To Sense in Small Things

"Awe enables us to perceive in the world intimations of the divine, to sense in small things the beginning of infinite significance...to feel the rush of the passing of stillness of the eternal. The beginning of awe is wonder, and the beginning of wisdom is awe." - Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

This week has been so full for our family, there's much to reflect upon. S enjoyed his first week at Discovery Woods immensely. On Friday, I took him to our local nature center for their first annual frog release. It was a joy.

After the froglets were released into the frog pond, the children were given "frog juice" aka limeade to celebrate. We said a toast to our little green friends and look forward to visiting the new frog pond again and again.

In the evening we joined friends for a Mexican feast then played at this cool playground until long after the sun went down and Ursa Major romped into the night sky.

Our cat, Elvis, had another health crisis and stopped eating again, as he did almost 2 years ago to the day. He had to be hydrated twice, and labs finally revealed a clue to the mystery. He now has hyperthyroidism. He begins meds and monitoring and we are all wishing he will recover. If we can stabilize him, he may be a candidate for radiation treatment and live to a ripe old age. That is our wish.

On Sunday we worked at our son's school helping to install the outdoor chalkboards that they built the day before. While we worked, Satch and M ran off to the meadow to play. Satch found a toad and the two sprites promptly built a house for it. The toad chirped in his hand and S said, "Mr. Toad is singing for the world and my hand is his stage!"

They discovered that one of the Monarchs emerged. They released it in the meadow. Then they made themselves a really cool fort.

Later we went to try a vegetarian restaurant that we had heard about called Sunflower. As I sat looking at the menu, I recognized a dish that I had only seen at one other vegetarian restaurant...it was in NYC. It was one of my favorite haunts and I dined there until it closed sometime after 9/11. What are the odds, right? I walked over to the owner/manager and asked if he once had a restaurant in SoHo...he smiled and said, "YES...in SoHo!". I couldn't believe it. I told him that it was a favorite of mine and that I was a regular there. I told him that I moved here just a few years ago. He was as excited as I. The food was as delicious as I remember. After eating myself into a stupor, I felt like I was home. We'll be going back on my birthday next month.

CAT Scan

There are no ordinary cats - Colette

While Satch and I were scanning the pages of his coloring books, Elvis the cat (a heat seeking missile) hopped on the scanner bed sending Satch into fits of laughter...

Yes...I'm still quite sicky sick sick. Thankfully Satch hasn't gotten it. Robert has some cold sx like Satch did last week. I walk around with vintage hankies tucked in my pocket so that I can cough into them and not the air. I've got an air filter running upstairs and downstairs 24/7. When I get little bursts of energy, I hobble around with germicide wipes and clean surfaces before needing to sit and catch my breath again.

Satch has been surprisingly patient and has been doing a great job of entertaining himself. He doesn't seem too keen on me touching his toys because he totally understands the whole germ transmission thing...which means he's also doing a pretty good of tidying up.

The dust bunnies, however, are threatening to take over the camp. The laundry is still in the basket. And the lawn (sigh)....lets just say I've got my work cut out for me when I'm up and runnin' again!


Have a good weekend.

Most Alive Monday: Awakenings

Does he ever speak to you?
Of course not. Not in words.
He speaks to you in other ways...how do you mean?
You don't have children.
No.
If you did you'd know. - From the film, Awakenings
It's been stressful and emotional these past 7 weeks...with the decline and death of my husband's cat and the spontaneous illness of my cat. There is no definitive diagnosis at this time. It is suspected that he has a neurological disease. We are syringe feeding him several times a day and during this last episode he was not quite present and it was suspected that he had suddenly, spontaneously, gone blind.

However, Elvis came back to us...he is clearly seeing and connecting with us. It reminded me of the film, "Awakenings". He is walking around and no longer staggering (However, he is still not eating). When I picked him up to place him on my lap and he turned his body to face mine and looked into my face, I nearly wept. I told my husband that I was afraid to be happy about it, but yet I want to happy for this time...for however long it lasts.

I thought long and hard about posting things with a negative bent for "Most Alive Monday", but I believe that even in our most painful moments we are certainly most alive and making the fullest choices we can make. It has been hard for me to see that however...until now. I realized that I've always had a camera 'round my neck and this tool had enabled me to seek out and document my joys even in the most dreadful of experiences or when I was facing uncertainty....and my lens had proved to be quite grounding and healing as I wrote about in this book.

Our door bell rang in the early evening and when I opened the door, a small brown parcel was sitting upon our weathered sisal mat. "Ooooh what is it, what is?!?!", Satch squealed with excitement. I glanced at the return address and replied, "It's my camera". Satch joyfully exclaimed, "Hooray...are you so happy to have your camera back?!?!" "Why don't you make sure it works first", Robert said as we walked into the kitchen. "Lets not go there", I replied, "Satch has the right idea, lets be happy for this moment".

I'm learning that our children have a way of saying what needs to be said. As parents we are told that we must teach our children how to behave in this world...when all the while, our children are teaching us how to be.

When Satch scraped his knee last week, he didn't want a bandage. He didn't want to cover it up. Instead, he decorated it, with magic markers. May we all have the courage to expose our hurts, to face them, to tell the stories and to honor them as we heal.

I'm back...see you tomorrow.

*About Most Alive Monday: I've decided to make at least one "most alive choice" each day and post my favorite each Monday. This, of course, is to motivate me to consciously "live juicy"! I hope you'll join me and share your "most alive moment" in the comments section so we may inspire each other.

A Kick in the Bawlz

"The cure for anything is water - sweat, tears, or the sea" - Isak Dinesen

The tears come in the darkness when the wee is asleep and I awake from slumber feeling like I've been kicked in the bawlz by the universe. It happens every day, everywhere, I know... I know! People lose pets, friends, family members - it happens and yet not one loss is less painful or less tragic than another. It seems like a really rotten trick to give your heart away to a mischievous fur ball for 15 years then have to face the possibility of having to say good bye...too soon. It's always too soon!

On this summer morning I am thankful for public swimming pools, for little boys with sweaty ringlets; for bare feet on wood floors, for homemade kites and warm breezes; for drippy ice cream cones; for hummingbird visits in the early morn; for grass-stained sheets dragged down hillsides while a squealing boy holds tightly with dimpled fists; for the bird's nest we found on the ground (woven with the sticky wrapper of an after dinner mint from McCormick & Schmick's Seafood Restaurant) which we gingerly carried home and placed on our mantle; for the little hand that gets tangled in my hair at night; for the purrs of a blue-eyed cat; for the thread of pixels that connect distant friends, and the glow by which I read their words while sipping my morning coffee.

Expert Vet Advice Needed

As you know my cat Elvis is having a crisis. He stopped eating when my husband's cat started to decline. His labs came back normal and he was given antibiotics and he started to eat a bit. Around the time of Zetti's death, he stopped eating again! He then had more labs, an x-ray and an ultrasound and everything came back normal again. In the meantime, he started to eat again and we were hopeful. Today, however, he is once again hunched in a corner which is where he goes when he's not feeling well and has stopped eating AGAIN. This is his third episode. Because he's lost so much weight with the previous episodes, he can not go too long without eating. Everyone is stumped. What are we missing?

Goodbye Vanzetti

"My heart has joined the Thousand - for my friend stopped running today." - Richard Adams (Watership Down)

Last evening my husband made the decision to have his cat, Vanzetti, euthanized. She was battling some health issues for several years and in the last several weeks had gone through a steady and rapid decline. She became a mere shadow of her former self -very thin, frail and had difficulty eating and walking. You could see suffering on her face and it was heart breaking to witness. Even though we know in our hearts that it was the most humane thing to do - to give her the opportunity to die peacefully, without prolonged suffering - it didn't make it any easier or less painful to say goodbye to her.

The procedure took place with our vet in our own home (not in an office). My cat, Elvis, was given the opportunity to say goodbye, but he already knew what was happening given his lack of appetite and hiding. He hissed and ran to the bedroom closet to hide. Some cats sniff and walk away solemnly while others hiss and retreat like Elivs. Satch wanted to see her and we allowed him. We explained in simple terms what death means and showed him that she was no longer breathing and that he could no longer feel her heart beating. We explained that all living things die, usually when they are very old, and that Zetti was very old and her body stopped working right. We explained that animals do not live as long as people. We explained that when animals and people die, their bodies go back to the earth. Then our little family buried her at the entrance of our garden between the foxglove and echinacea...and we said goodbye.

I have to confess that I complained a lot about this cat because, for the last year and a half, I never knew where or when she would poop, pee or barf. She pooped in Satchel's former tent twice. The second time, I'll spare you the details, I couldn't even bring myself to put it in the washer. We purchased a new tent for Satch and she pooped in it once, but I was able to run it through a wash cycle and it was fine. She pooped on our bed and on Satchel's bed too, so we started closing the doors to the bedrooms and to the bathroom because the throw rug became a poop target. She peed on my very old, thread worn quilt so we had to send it to be dry cleaned. I then had to make sure Satch picked up any quilts or play rugs when he was finished with them to prevent her from soiling them. Then there was the barfing. During her worst episodes, I was cleaning up cat barf several times a day, trying to out run a curious toddler who liked to touch everything in his world....and I DO mean everything. I'm ashamed to say it, but I was a begrudging caregiver, mumbling profanities under my breath with every wipe, scrub, sanitize or wash cycle. And yet, none of this would prevent a smidge of the sadness I would feel at her loss.

My biggest fear was that one of Satchel's friends would come over to play and find a big puddle of barf on the floor or poop on the rag rug. I worried that one of the moms would get so grossed out that it would prevent her from bringing her child over to play with my son. My fear was manifested about a month ago when Satch, my friend M and her son H returned to our house from a lunch at the pizza joint. My friend walked into the living room and stepped right smack into a puddle of slimy brown cat barf....IN HER SOCKS. I can tell you how gross this is first hand because it had happened to me a number of times in the last year and a half. I offered to wash her socks, but she graciously declined and put them in a plastic bag while I cleaned up the mess. What made this event even more profound, was that after I apologized profusely, M said something that touched me deeply. She said, "Wendy, just because I don't have pets does not mean that I don't like animals or that I do not understand. I understand that it is not your fault and I understand that it is not the cat's fault that she is old and sick".

Naturally I felt better about the situation than I had in a long while, but I also felt guilty about the resentment I had felt about cleaning up after Zetti all day. I kept wondering, and still do, how I could have such conflicted feelings. How is that I could both care about Vanzetti and yet resent all the messes? And I feel like such a rotten person for owning that bit of resentment. The only conclusion I can come up with is that it was because she was not my cat or perhaps it was a way to detach myself emotionally. I had gone through a similar situation with my cat Sid in 2002 who became terminally ill and after numerous trips to specialists, he eventually had to be euthanized. It was also performed in our home, our bed (his favorite place), with a combination of cuddling, love and many tears. It was heart wrenching and there was nothing I wouldn't do for that cat. I was devoted.

So yesterday I cried. And Satch tried to comfort me in his own way saying, "don't worry mama, I dry your tears...watch a beautiful movie". He was so tender and so sincere. I explained why I was sad and that sometimes even mommies and daddies get sad. I told him that I would miss Vanzetti and sometimes we get sad when we miss someone.

Vanzetti, also known as Zetti, Deetee, Deetala, and Deetareeno was 88 in human years. She had a deliberate walk...like someone trying to balance on very high heels. She had the loudest and raspiest meow I've ever heard and howled for no apparent reason, often in the middle of the night. She was spunky and very VERY sweet. Her absence is palpable. Above is a photo taken before she became ill. That is how I wish to remember her.

Elvis, king of the Cats!

So over the long weekend, my cat Elvis (also seen here and here) suddenly decided to stop eating. We have no idea why. He wasn't sick. He seemed fine with the move and even appeared to like the new nest. The only thing I can think of is at the same time Robert's cat (who is 88 in human years and has health issues) started to decline. Perhaps this upset him. Elvis has never been sick. Though once he had an allergic reaction.

When Elvis was a kitten he developed a huge yucky open wound on his paw. At first I thought it was an animal bite, (possibly a squirrel) from playing on the roof of my NYC flat. Upon close inspection, I realized that it wasn't so I took him to see the cat doctor. Dr. Sullivan informed me that it was an eosinophilic granuloma caused by an allergic reaction. "Remove all fish from his diet and it will go away", he said, then handed us an antibiotic to clear the infection. "Fish...huh", I replied and he went on to explain that fish is not a natural part of a cat's diet. Come to think of it, I don't recall ever witnessing a cat hunting for fish, except for these at the National Zoo.

And that's when I began researching cat food companies for the optimal diet and let me tell you, it was a real eye opener. They put fish meal in everything! Apparently, it's a cheap source of protein and cats love it because it's stinky. Elvis has been eating fish free food ever since.

Years later, after I read an article about a cat diagnosed with mad cow's disease, I decided to do a little snooping into that arena and called a bunch of cat food companies to inquire about the source of their meat. Most wouldn't even talk to me - bad sign. Hill's Science Diet/Prescription Diet and Iams/Eukanuba gave me the run-around and would not divulge the source of their meat supply. Only PetGuard Organic, the brand that I was using since the fish incident during kittenhood, proudly revealed the source of their meat and even provided a link to their supplier. They use grass fed free range cattle from Coleman's beef...human grade meat. And while I know that beef would not be a part of a cat's natural diet since I've never seen a small cat take down a cow before, at least the meat is drug free and healthy. They also have rabbit, and venison which do not contain any fish oil either, but some of their poultry products do contain fish a/o fish oil.

So back to Elvis. We decided to call a mobile vet to come see both Elvis and Zetti because Elvis hates going to the vet so much that the last time he went which was for Rabies and Distemper vaccines, they needed to wear gloves. The doctor was lovely and she was able to see Elvis as the adorable and loving kitty he really is before he turned into the psycho-Steven-King-Cat. I swear he has the loudest growl you've ever heard and although he's a domestic cat, it's clear that there is still some wild in him. Both cats were given hydration and medication. Now we're awaiting the results of the blood tests.

I referred to my old cat care bible... this book (the author of which I've had the good fortune of meeting and think she may be a saint) and made Elvis a concoction of baby food chicken and raw organic egg yolk which I fed to him through a syringe - not fun for either of us. (Robert tended to Zetti) I am still torn about the whole raw food cat diet because even though it seems perfectly natural since a cat will catch a bird or a mouse and eat it raw, I worry about parasites. So in the past, for a boost of nutrition, I added HALO's Vita-mineral mix to his canned food. Still, there is a a company called Nature's Variety that manufactures organic raw meat pet food that I'm seriously considering trying.

As for now, Zetti continues to decline while Elvis is periodically taking a few bites of his food. He is no longer hiding inside the closet. He is sleeping on top of the kitchen cabinets near the ceiling. This is a very good sign because it is his favorite spot. He likes to be up high, like the king of the jungle.

Wash Dry Fold

We're headed to Long Island to visit Satchel's "Nomah". We're having a little vegetarian bbq (at my childhood home) on Saturday as a way to get to see all our friends at one time and in one place. Some of my peeps are driving out from NYC. I'll see you back here on Monday. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this article..."Raising Generation PAX". Have a good weekend, everyone!!!

The Plight of the Co-sleeping Cat

When Elvis came into my life, he wouldn't sleep at night and mewed non-stop. I placed his box next to my bed and let my arm dangle inside the box, but that wasn't good enough. He kept trying to climb out. Finally, I took him out of the box and he crawled onto my chest, right under my chin and went to sleep. And that is how we slept until he was too big to do so and he began sleeping beside me.

It's been many years since Elvis self-weaned from sleeping on my neck. Since then he's made sleeping an art form....

on NYC window sills...

in shoe boxes...

















the bathroom sink...

the laundry

and in my old studio, the window blinds were a favorite spot.














When Satch was born I figured if I could sleep safely all night with a kitten whose head was no bigger than a walnut, I could sleep safely with Satch. It was a difficult transition for Elvis when Satch arrived. Satch made him nervous...he must have suspected the rough lubbins to come. So, he set up camp in Satchel's crib since Satch wasn't using it anyway.















Nowadays, Elvis will crawl into bed with us, but eventually retreats to Satchel's doll bed.

I'm signing off early. Have a good weekend, everyone!