Stray Cat Strut

I have to admit I was a little unnerved by my fussbudget cat. She ignored us all, hid in the basement, ate nothing and was wasting away before our eyes. And refused perfectly good food!

I poured Scott and I a beer after the kids went to bed and told him my worries while I set about packing the kids lunches for the next day. He’s the pet veteran. I am just a rookie. What was I doing wrong? Did I assume too much? She was becoming such a mystery.

Scott listened patiently while I wrote initials on brown paper bags and folded napkins that would never get used. I packed a handful of strawberries for Hil, and a shiny Washington apple for Patrick. Each got a fudge brownie with sprinkles. He wanted peanut butter and raspberry jelly on white. She would have honey roasted turkey on white with no cheese and no mayo or mustard. Ack!

As I went to place a slice of turkey on the bread for Hil’s sandwich, out of nowhere flew Trinket, landing briefly on the counter where she batted the turkey from my hand and pounced on it where it landed on the floor. Much purring ensued.

And since then, there have been other things. Things frankly, that tell me that Miss Kitty must have been cared for by someone.

We know she was a stray. If not from her pathetic little 7-pound body weight, from her disinterest in toys in favor of live things, from her survivalist behaviors, from her distaste for cat food, from her ability and willingness to take food rather than wait for it.

But I envision her being a stray that lived in a wooded area by a strip mall…a strip mall with maybe a Chinese restaurant. Maybe she hung around the dumpster by the back door to the kitchen where the smells called to her.

And maybe some nice restaurant staff person was kind to her. Gave her things like pork chops and turkey. And water.

Trinket ignores her water bowl. No matter what size, shape or color I place by the food bowls. What she will drink from is a cup. Only a cup. Preferably one made of clear glass, please.

Every time I brushed my teeth she’d appear in the bathroom and jump up on the counter. She’d stare at the water and I could tell she was thinking – thinking of ways to get some water from the spigot into her mouth.

And one day I took a little Dixie cup and filled it to the very brim and placed it on the floor. She drank it to the very bottom, nearly getting it stuck on her tiny face.

So now I have formed some bad habits. Habits I would regret if not for the changes they’ve brought about in the cat.

I have two mugs of water in the bathroom filled to the brim every morning and night. That is her preferred watering hole. It’s that or the toilet. I keep the lid down and fill the mugs. I still fill the water bowl in the kitchen but I may as well piss up a rope for the good it will do me.

If I have a glass of water at my bedside it is understood that she will drink it in the night. Thankfully I can hear the little charm clink against the glass when she does so I don’t forget and take a swig myself later in the night. Eeewww.

Trinket will not relent until she has climbed from “her chair” at the dining room table onto the table surface and has been allowed to inspect what is on our plates - for future interest only, of course. Unless, one leaves the table, like Pat did on Thursday, and Trinket sees fit to spin your place mat with her paw until the plate is within easy reach so she can steal a piece of penne alfredo before anyone notices. This is a habit that may require a water pistol to break.

But the change in her is remarkable. With the Friskies she can count on, and an occasional nibble of home cooking, she is a fully acclimated House Cat. Happy to see you, thankful and hungry for lots of love and vittles, happy to purr and sleep on your bed all night.

She has found herself some People and we have found ourselves something to love.

She recently discovered the Catnip mouse, much to our delight and entertainment, and has not been to the basement rafters in over a week.

Welcome to our home, Trinket.