Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Mother of Ten Buys Farm


My cat is neurotic. Out of control. She begins stomping in my hair and squealing at 5:00 a.m. now. She has not only adjusted to Daylight Savings Time, she has reinvented morning. She races from pillar to post rattling wires, batting around hard objects like hockey pucks and knocking things off surfaces in a specific order that never varies, like the Stations of the Cross.

Truffle suffers from a depression mentality. She believes that at any moment, the world's supply of canned cat food will run out and she will be found on the kitchen floor, feet in the air like a dead bird. When I go for my shoes, she goes for her bowl, looking over her shoulder fervently to make sure that I'm following. She would prefer to go for my jugular if she could reach it. She knows in the darkest recesses of her little kitty soul that I will never return. Every time I leave the apartment is the Very Last Time. I will not pass this way again, and her cupboard will be bare for all eternity. St. Truffle of the Perpetually Empty Bowl. She does not care for chow. "Try it, you'll like it," I tell her. "Chow is the new chicken." She sneers at me like a fluffy Elvis and knocks a new can of meat from the stack. I know she hates me because I have thumbs. She gets four or five feedings a day which must be microwaved to the perfect temperature, the one that approximates fresh kill. Even newborn human babies get four designated feedings a day: 10:00, 2:00, 6:00 and 10:00 again. This is the schedule imposed by hospitals. Anything else and you're on your own.

It makes no difference if Truffle has just eaten. When we sit down to a meal, she streaks to her bowl and directs her most imploring look at me, the one that brings to mind all those starving children in Europe I had to eat for when I was a child. I never grasped the logic in that, how my eating could possibly help them, but I passionately wished that my parents would take all that liver and cauliflower and send it to them. From this behavior, I infer that Truffle's fixation on food is as much psychological as physical. Her sense of propriety dictates that we eat together. Even if she bursts, hair and teeth everywhere.

She went to college with my daughter. Starred in several episodes of Pussies Gone Wild. Ten babies later, her kittenhood spent, she was given to Grandma to raise. We took away her "toys" and she fills the emptiness with canned flesh as often as possible, which provides endless opportunities for yakking in secret places, difficult to reach. If all the chickens that have died for this cat were stretched beak to tail feathers, they would reach Uranus. I think the medical term for her condition is Nutjob. Earlier posts about Truffle are here, here, and here.

30 comments:

Odat said...

lol...My dog is just like that!!!
and my last cat was named Nut-nut!
But cats do rule the world, as you know.
Peace

Open Grove Claudia said...

hmmmm.... I wonder what the code is for nutjob. Sheez, it sure would have made my job as a therapist a lot easier.

"What's wrong with me?"

"Besides being an idiot who can't keep your pants zipped?" I'd say politely.

"Yeah," he'd say tearing up.

"You're a nutjob."

PHEW! Case closed.

Voyager said...

I am laughing so hard. I have a version of nutjob. Food addict. Head kneader. Opera star. And definitely drama queen.
V.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Odat,

This one used to torment my wolf, Baby, who wanted only to sniff the flowers.

Claudia,

You counsel sexaholics? What an interesting job.

Sometimes it just takes the right terminology to put things in uh, perspective.

Voyager,

I think the word you're looking for is bulimicat.

Maurey Pierce said...

My old roommate had a cat, Buster, who needed meds or something. He was crazy. They had a co-dependent relationship. If Erin left for more than a day, Buster would puke right outside my door in protest.

After ruining several pairs of socks, I finally learned to look. :-)

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Maurey,

I think it may be redundant to say that a cat is crazy.

Someone once remarked, "The cat is proof that not everything in nature has a purpose."

yinyang said...

My cat has binge eating disorder, and she's getting fatter by the day, despite the fact that we only feed her in the morning and afternoon/early evening. Of course, it doesn't help that she can steal food from the other cat.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Yinyang,

There is no way to control the amount of food they eat when you have multiple cats (and bowls.)

Truffle is not fat, although she eats all the time. She must have a really fast metabolism.

EsLocura said...

I have scars on the back of knees because this is my cats favorite place to attack when I am just walking about minding my own bussiness. it's always a sneak attack yet, nothing cracks me up more than his silly antics, even with my scars.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Eslocura,

You won't think it's funny when your cute little kitty becomes a 2-ton carnivore overnight with verrrry big paws.

Remember the old joke about the 500-pound canary that says,
TWEEEEEET?"

meno said...

Very funny! No matter when they have last been fed, my cats rush to the kitchen if there is even the merest whiff of activity there, or near there, or on the way to there.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Meno,

I call that Opportunisticat.

They have done experiments on chickens and determined that they will literally eat themselves to death if, after they have been fed, they see the experimenters feeding a DIFFERENT group of cats, er, CHICKENS.

Hmmm.

MsLittlePea said...

Is her name Truffles as in really delicious chocolate candies or really expensive mushroom thingies that fancy people like to eat in Europe?

By the way I just go caught up over here and your post about your home and time in Nashville reminds me of my own hometown. I grew up in the South too where Confederate flags are all over the place and one of the local high schools is just now trying to change it's name because it was named after one of the KKK founders. I love it here because of the weather and beauty and of course the southern hospitality truly does exist but it's stuff like that that ruins it. Come change!

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Sweet Pea,

Her name is Truffle (singular) like the exquisite little chocolates. My daughter named her, and she lived with her for her first two years. Apparently, there was a lack of supervision because she had two litters.

Good Lord, I hope your hometown does change the name of that school. I had a boss in Nashville who once took me to see her home where she had gigantic framed photographs of Nathan Bedford Forest and Robert E. Lee.

The only books in the entire house were leather-bound volumes of Civil War histories, among all the furniture from Bombay (mall store.)

It was downright creepy.

urban-urchin said...

truffle is the girl in high school we all hated. the one that could eat anything and not gain weight.

The CEO said...

I see that you have adapted to the 5 am wakeup call and the ritual feedings well. How have you escaped the Midnight Crazys and the 3 AM NASCAR rallys through the apartment and other fun and games?

Molly said...

Uranus or Heranus? Sorry,couldn't resist! I think housecats, by definition are neurotic. We have a nutjob at our house too....I think it has something to do with castration. His bones remember the parts the vet took away, and he feels vague longings for he knows not what. His instincts tell him he was made for better things than looking decorative, draped over the back of the couch. He longs for the life of a great white hunter, but scuttles for cover when he gets outside and a bird yells at him...Maybe my nutjob and your nutjob could be penpals. Though I expect the thumb deficit might be a stumbling block.
This post was a hoot. Cats are so much fun to live with, except for the yakking in secret, inaccessible places.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Urchin,

Yeah, but she got knocked up in college.

Does that help?

CEO,

The Kitty 500 takes place in the hallway, and her craziness is not confined to any specific time. (So limiting.)

What's your point?

Molly,

Cats give us endless opportunities to exercise our imaginations.

"Oh, look! She barfed on my shoe. That means she loves me."

Dogs, on the other hand, are totally transparent and really do love us.

I used to fancy that I was made for better things, too, than being slave to a creature that weighs 8 pounds and believes she's a lion.

la cubana gringa said...

One of the funniest bumper stickers I ever saw on a car read:

Dogs have owners, Cats have staff.

Methinks Truffle has read the bumper sticker.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

La Cubana,

I've heard that one, too.

Truffle thoroughly endorses the idea, and probably invented it.

seventh sister said...

This is why I don't have cats.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Seventh,

But on the other hand, they never have to be walked in the middle of the night, and you don't have to pick up after them in the street.

goodthomas said...

This is brilliant HinSF, truly brilliant. I love "The cat is proof that not everything in nature has a purpose."

How did cats get it so good? What did they do in a past life? Why is their karma so good? Damn.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Thomas,

I have no idea, but I want to come back as a cat. MY cat. The girl has it good.

Beehive Goddess said...

This cracks me up. I posted about my dog and his magic food bowl on my other blog.

And I have friends with cats that I know will completely understand. LOL!

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Goddess,

I'll have to read that. Every dog or cat should have a magic food bowl.

It would make a great children's book, too.

Stewart Sternberg said...

Reading this, I just kept thinking: Ah, this is why they medicate children. Of course.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Stewart,

Do you think they make Ritalin for cats?

Sometimes the urge to Velcro her to the wall is strong.

The "Mind" said...

Beehive Goddess here. My other blog is linked to this account. You can read my dog bowl story here.

Enjoy!

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Mind,

That was a delightful story, and I left you a dog story of my own.

I also bookmarked your blog for ready return.

I am unable to put links or italics in comments to my own blog or others in Foxfire. What system do you use?