My wife and I are “practicing vegetarians” — she’s got it right, but I’m still practicing and give in to friend chicken or sausages from time to time.

Our faithful old cat, Tigra, is NOT a vegetarian, but she’s learned to live with the lack of mealtime tidbits from us. Sure, we’ve let a bit of lettuce or carrot drop under the table from time to time, but Tigra really isn’t interested. She clearly treats vegetables with disdain, wondering why we put such things into our mouths.

When our son comes over, however, she snuggles up to him like they’re best buddies. He brings salmon, tuna, and chicken. And, when he’s eating his lunch or supper at our house, she makes sure to watch him intently for those occasional dropped bits of salmon. Okay, she stares at him intently until he finally wavers, places a napkin or bit of newspaper on the floor, and puts a bite or two of fresh salmon down for her.

Last night, however, he had something different with him — turkey pepperoni. I don’t know much about meat anymore, and I couldn’t begin to tell you what’s in turkey pepperoni or how it’s made. But our son assured us it was very “mild,” and not spicy enough to be a problem. So Tigra devoured one or two small bites of turkey pepperoni.

Half an hour after Son left, we had to break out the paper towels and spray cleaner. Tigra spit up the turkey pepperoni. Then she settled into a different nook or cranny in the living room — and spit up some more of the turkey pepperoni.

After three times, her stomach settled down. She had some water later on, slept soundly all night, and is her usually frisky self today.

New rule in our household: No more turkey pepperoni for the cat.

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One of the fascinating questions about cats is this: Are they too dumb to learn tricks or simply too aloof to condescend to such behavior at the beck and call of a mere human.

Those of us who have cats (or are owned by cats) believe it’s the latter. Most devoted dog lovers I know attribute canine obedience to superior intelligence and look down on cats as too dumb to learn tricks.

I’m here to tell you, our cat, Tigra, has trained us thoroughly to perform the “tricks” she demands of us. When she’s really thirsty, she chooses not to drink from her water bowel, rather she walks into the bathroom and sits patiently on the closed toilet seat with her paws on the edge of our bathtub. If we aren’t quick enough getting there to give her the preferred bathtub drink (through a detachable hand-held shower hose), she will hop into the tub and do her best to suck/lap water from the old tub spout.

If Ms. Tigra comes in from outside when we call her, she strolls through the front door and straight to her food dish area in the kitchen, where she sits expectantly awaiting two or three tiny, crunchy kitty treats.

Yes, she’s bright enough to “train us” — but she treats us as though we must be out of our minds if we ask her repeatedly to do something that doesn’t interest her. Dumb? I think not. I think, rather, that she’s simply convinced she’s above all that. Sly, or perhaps “elitist,” would be the best term.

So, tell us, if you have a pet cat, have you trained the cat to do any tricks? I saw a video where I would ALMOST believe a woman had taught her cat a couple of basic obedience things, like “sit up,” and “sit.” Even then, I’m not sure if the cat really was trained — or the woman had been trained by the cat when to give it treats.

Scary, in a way, are cats, aren’t they??

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I’ve posted for the third time here about the old cat, Tigra, and her gimpy leg trouble. Not wanting to bore you, but something happened that was really bizarre. She reacted to the pain medication in pretty spectacular fashion, almost like she was on some human “speed” or something.

The vet who gave her the painkiller warned me that it would do one of two things: Either the cat would become extremely drowsy and sleep a lot — or she would “exhibit really odd behavior.” I didn’t know what in the world that meant. But I found out.

The first hour or so after Tigra got the pill, she sort of wandered off to a hidden part of the house and slept.

Within an hour or two after getting the pill, she reappeared, but wouldn’t let anyone near enough to pick her up. She wasn’t running off, mostly because her right front leg still was not working for her, but she would back into a spot under the kitchen table and just sit there.

Most of the day before yesterday, she alternated between sitting under the kitchen table just staring over at her water dish and hopping around the house 3-legged with her eyes wide open, starting and staring at something that it appears only SHE saw.

She never hurt herself, and we never let her near anything or any situation where she could be harmed — but it was really weird. I was telling my neighbor about Tigra’s behavior and he smiled and said, “Ah. So it was sort of like — here’s your cat; here’s your cat on drugs, huh?”

Yes, it was very much like that. And when it came time for a second painkiller dose, we opted to pass. She finally settled down sometime in the early morning hours yesterday and slept most of the morning away under our bed.

Today, she has almost no limp, is putting nearly her full weight on the troubled leg, and is back to her normally lovable alert personality. She’s spent a lot of time sleeping — which is normal for Tigra — and she’s spent a lot of time cuddling up on “mommy’s” and “daddy’s” lap.

I think she’s back to normal. I KNOW she’s definitely off drugs.

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Yesterday I posted about our concern for Tigra, our 12-year-old cat, because she had started limping and refusing to put any weight on her right front leg.

The bad news is — my son broke up with his veterinary girl friend. The good news is — she has enough bond of friendship with us that she graciously came by the house today (her day off, too) to check out Tigra’s leg.

She’s not certain the cause of the soreness, but it doesn’t appear to be the result of an abscess form a cat bit, nor any detectable foreign object stuck in her paw. She found no evidence from manually probing the area of a fracture. She concluded Tigra may simply have a touch of arthritis — or a hidden would/bite location that’s going to develop into an abscess. She told us if Tigra’s not putting more weight on the leg within a couple of days to bring her by the clinic for x-rays.

Good news for the whole family. It always amazes me how strongly we become attached to our pets. Just as with kids, we feel the pain ourselves when our pets suffer, don’t we?

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We noticed earlier today that our 12-year-old cat, Tigra, is being very sensitive about her right front paw. She’s not cleaning or licking it excessively such as she might if there were a sticker in the paw. And her leg and leg joints don’t seem to be sore or tender to the touch.

She simply won’t put any weight on her right front paw, although she is very gently using that paw to lick then use to groom her face.

So maybe nothing’s wrong, and we’ll keep an eye on her to see. We’re wondering if she might be experiencing some soreness in the front joint of her leg — arthritis or something, perhaps, due to her aging?

Tomorrow, if she’s still favoring it and seems sensitive, could be a day to take her to the vet.

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Okay, I’m more than a little skeptical about any long-term value of this program, but here’s a California rescue group that’s found a way to put feral cats to work for local farmers and ranchers.

Apparently the group captures feral cats, spays and neuters them, then releases them in locations where farmers, ranchers, and others who own large tracts of land are troubled by gophers and other rodent infestations. It’s an interesting story and an interesting idea. Locations where the cats are released include warehouses and orchards, as well as ranches and farms. The released feral cats are referred to in the article as “working cats,” which sort of makes me smile — given the spoiled, “non-working” nature of our old pet cat Tigra!

My son happens to be visiting right now, and he and my wife got into a discussion of this. Son, whose girlfriend is a small animal veterinarian, seems more cynical about this story than I and his mother are. His reaction was, “Ah, well. In the end, the cats will probably die or run off. They won’t be fed or cared for in any way by the farmers or ranchers, but the rescue people will at least feel good about what they’ve done.”

Well I mean, after all, these are FERAL cats we’re talking about, not pets. If they never become part of this program, their lives certainly would have been worse than in this program. If a good cat wants to work and needs a job, put ‘em on the payroll, I say. (Ah, well. Yes, that last sentence really is my idea of a lame joke.)

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I know, I know, that’s an odd title for this post. It came to me as I was remembering a conversation I had with my son yesterday.

He and I were discussing the future and I mentioned that at some point (hundreds of years from now, of course) his mother and I would be more comfortable in a smaller, single-story house, instead of the 104+ year old family home. (We’ve only owned it since 1980, but our two kids grew up here and remember very little about any other homes.) I joking said by that time we wouldn’t have Tigra, our present pet, and simply wouldn’t get another cat after she’s gone.

He joking suggested we would have “automatic” pet cats that require no maintenance, because he has two or three neighborhood cats which live more or less permanently in his large backyard and the crawl space under his house. No cost, no upkeep — what wonderful pet cats those would be.

Which, of course, started me thinking about the frustrating issue faced by almost all towns and cities in our country: feral cats. Those are cats who have “gone wild” for one reason or another. Some were born to “owner-less,” feral cats and are very uncomfortable and frightened to be around people. Some are former pets who were abandoned by their families or strayed away and got separated from their families.

Some communities have a very tough “no-holds-barred” approach to this issue: Feral cats are shot on sight. Others have taken that down a notch and seek to capture feral cats, hold them in case an owner shows up to claim them — then euthanizes them.

But a few communities have adopted a process suggested by the Human Society of the United States (HSUS), known as “Trap-Neuter-Return,” or TNR. The TNR policy means feral cats are captured, vaccinated, and neutered. Their left ear is “tipped” for identification purposes. Then they are returned to “the wild,” and monitored by dedicated caretakers — who also watch for new feral members who show up and repeat the TNR with them.

Do you have any feral cats on your property or in your community? I should modify that to ask if you know of such cats — because you can be assured they are in almost EVERY community.

Tell us your thoughts and post your comments about feral cats, pet neutering, and the other issues related to this post, please.

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As a proud member of the “Baby Boomer” generation, I do NOT appreciate a cautionary news story this week about Alzheimer’s disease. According to the latest predictions, something around 10 million people of my generation will be struck by Alzheimer’s disease or a related form of dementia.

Certainly this news isn’t on a par with that, but I just discovered today that aging dogs and cats can suffer from a form of Alzheimer’s disease. As a matter of fact, the article I’ve linked to is by a veterinarian and says the changes in the pet’s brain involves the same type of beta amyloid plaques that are seen in victims of the human disease.

The veterinarian writing about this, Shawn Messonnier, D.V.M., reports that he’s had good results treating the dog and cat disease with the B vitamin choline supplement CholodinR. I’m not familiar with that at all, and I’m only passing along information you will find if you read the article I’ve linked to.

I urge you to read that entire article. Print it out, or at least bookmark the website so you can return to the information there if you have a pet dog or cat, or friends who do. It certainly is something pet lovers need to prepare for.

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Okay, as a “cat owner,” let me be the first to admit — it’s probably more accurate to say that Tigra, our 12-year-old tabby, owns ME. I’m about to ask her permission just now to leave my computer for awhile, disturbing her favorite resting spot between my leg and the arm of this recliner. Unfortunately, I must get up and around for basics like breakfast, taking my wife to her job, etc. If Tigra graciously allows it, I’ll be gone awhile and finish this post a little later in the morning. Let’s see how that works out …

… okay, I’m back. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, about cat ownership …

Anyway, an extensive study released last month indicates that having a cat could lower your risk of heart attack or stroke BY AS MUCH AS 40 PERCENT! Now that figure is pretty astounding. The researchers have little explanation for why this is true, but their study was done over a 20 year period and involved more than 4,400 people between the ages of 30 and 75.

Now, as with must such statistical studies, this should be taken with a lot of skepticism and a great deal of reservation as to just what it means. The article I’ve linked to above indicates that vets and physicians disagree about the details and the ramifications of this.

But based on that story, one thing seems clear to me — and this is just MY personal opinion, NOT a recommendation! — if we didn’t already have Tigra, I’d be thinking long and hard about a trip to our local animal shelter to invite a cat into our home.

How about you??

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To full appreciate how surprised Shirley and I were by our 12-year-old cat Tigra’s little adventure last evening, you first must understand that she’s just about the stereotypical example of the people who scoff about cats sleeping 20 hours a day, waking up only when she wants to eat or requires our every attention, etc.

My son stopped by on his way home from work just as it was getting dark last night and let Tigra out the door when he came in. She spends time on our porch and in our front yard frequently, so that was no big deal. After our son had been here a half hour or so, he opened the front door just to check on the cat.

Tigra was nowhere to be found.

Rob (our son) looked around and thought he spied a cat lurking around the bushes near the foundation of a house THREE HOUSES DOWN on the opposite side of our street. Sure enough, it was Tigra. She was having a wonderful time sniffing along the bushes and edge of the house foundation. (It currently is an empty, but well maintained, house, awaiting a renter.) Rob reminded us that the previous long-time owner of the house had two dachshunds, and suggested she was “tracking” the scent of the departed dogs.

After a great deal of calling, casual trips across the street rattling Tigra’s kitty treat jar, and some gentle persuasion by Rob, the old cat meandered back to her front yard — then made a quick dash up the front steps, through the open front door, and directly into her covered litter box on the other side of the house. She’s thoroughly box trained and wouldn’t suffer the indignity of going to the bathroom OUTSIDE!!!

One lesson we learned months ago after the first time we saw her cross the street: Never run suddenly toward the cat trying to catch her when she’s over there. She thinks it’s a wonderful game and will lead you on for blocks.

Ornery old cat. I might just ground her and take away all outdoors privileges until she’s, oh, say, about 30 years old. (Always threatened to do that with my two kids. Never worked with them.)

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