The diva herself!

I have three cats. I know you know but I have to put it out there so that you remember I’m crazy. No one but a crazy wonderful, loving person would have three felines under the same roof.

Every group of felines has an alpha. I am very lucky. My alpha is a very gentle soul. She is the smallest at 7 pounds but rules with an iron nose. I am not kidding. There are no hissy fits or head butts. When she wants to position other felines (or people) into their proper place she uses her nose to push you off whatever is the current prime piece of real estate. It’s usually the bed but it can be the sofa or a desk or a chair. Everyone lets her eat first too. She is very polite and leaves enough food for the rest of them.

My oldest cat (Jake) is 15 and diabetic. He gets whatever he wants. When you get to be old, you should get whatever you want. (Hopefully my younger relatives are reading this!) He has to be 90 in people years. Don’t get me wrong. Although I have been properly trained by them, there are house rules. No one begs for food at the dinner table and no one is allowed on the cooking counters. Other counters….well…what can I say. I am a bit of a pushover. No noses in butts either although they are known to present their butt so you can properly identify them. Very thoughtful of them.

Poor Jake is either having some stairs issues or he has me completely snowed. By peeing on the shower carpet he has convinced me that he needs a litter box upstairs in addition to the suite of beautiful boxes he has in the renovated cat bathroom in the basement. Yes, I wrote about this not too long ago, see here.

Because he wasn’t allowed to eat regular dry cat food, I had dry cat food upstairs on a high chest of drawers. The other two cats could jump up quite easily but not Jake. Then the veterinarian said that I didn’t need to worry about that so I put the food on the floor.

During all this specialized shenanigans to cater to my elderly cat, Mollie, my alpha diva, has been very good-natured. She sure loved having the food to herself and when I put a potty upstairs she thought she was in heaven.

Now everyone is going upstairs (in the box of course) but it has a lingering odor of poop! Yes, I made the beloved husband install an automatic timer on that bathroom fan. See, I am crazy! So what can I do to encourage more basement activity?

Why, I could put the dry food in the basement. Our basement is finished and lovely so don’t think we are talking about a cement floor with cement block walls full of mildew. Nope! It’s all painted drywall with closed ceilings, good lighting, windows and a wonderful floor that looks like hardwood. No sympathy here.

Food to cats is like paychecks to people. You don’t screw with it. Yesterday I moved the food downstairs. I took a real scolding from the diva. She is a very articulate cat. She speaks in whole paragraphs with polysyllabic words. Only a crazy cat owner can really understand that.

Yesterday was bad enough but today, I have been thrashed a few times. I even escorted her to the new food dishes and waited while she noshed. She is not happy with me.

When cats are not happy they don’t get made they get even. I will be sure to wear something on my feet because there is nothing as cold and yucky as a big wad of hairball squishing between your toes on your 3 a.m. bathroom run. Either that or I will move the food back. Did I mention that I am a pushover?

To all you animal lovers out there — Rumpy from rumpydog.com is in a contest to win Mr World Spay Day and he needs your votes. You can vote everyday here. It’s very easy and it’s for a very good cause sponsored by the Humane Society.