Many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.
Zoey ate a chicken bone. In fact, she devoured it. Not a tiny little rib or wing bone. Oh, no! My little food-obsessed feline freak found an unattended thigh bone on the counter and gobbled it up in less than a minute.
It didn’t seem possible. Despite all of the evidence that suggested she had managed this gluttonous feat, we searched everywhere for that darned bone, certain she had simply pulled it off the counter and stashed it somewhere where she could nibble on it daintily without any fear of interruption. But finally, after searching every crack and crevice, we had to accept the truth. That gigantic bone was there on the counter one minute, then it was gone. And there was only a purring, lip-smacking cat where the bone had once been. Zoey had managed to chew up and swallow the entire cooked thigh-bone of a chicken in less than sixty seconds.
We checked the internet and saw all sorts of dire warnings: sharp edges, obstructed bowels, perforated intestines. ARGH!
After calling our veterinarian, we ran out to buy wet cat food, potted chicken meat, pure pumpkin puree and mineral oil to cushion the bone fragments. We fed her this murky-yet-irresistable mix 3-4 times daily. We kept her inside and monitored her closely, often massaging her sides and belly to check for signs of swelling or tenderness. I gave up my bed, sleeping on the couch with kitty in my arms for three nights straight. I woke up every morning and ran to her litter box to dissect her poop, hoping to find clear evidence that the digestive danger had passed. As yet, I have not found any shards of bone among the kitty litter.
Zoey purrs on loudly, absolutely oblivious to the disaster she has managed to survive without any sign of harm.
This has been the best week EVER!!!
It all started when I found a crunchy, yummy chicken bone. Can you believe the humans left that amazing mouthful of yumminess just sitting out on the kitchen counter?
Of course, the human folk freaked out when they realized the precious bone was missing. I thought the game was up when they kept shrieking my name over and over while poking at my lips. I almost felt ashamed of myself for about three or four seconds. But then they started bringing me the most wonderful and delicious tidbits: nibbles of spiced chicken chunks, delicate livers and the most incredible sweet puree. They have finally figured out how to worship me properly!!!
The big hairless kitten I adopted many moons ago now makes the most comfortable bed out of her body and we sleep together in bliss. She hurries to clean my stinky box every morning. She massages my lovely, perfect belly every night.
That chicken bone is the best thing that has ever happened to me. EVER!
Dear People of the Internets,
Please to give us a few moments of your time. We are very concerned.
Our pet human – you refer to her as Trisha – appears to have gone quite bonkers. Perhaps she has been afflicted by the rabies. Or perhaps the little white machine she stares into for hours has finally boiled her brains. Whatever the cause, she is definitely many kibbles short of a meal right now and we would like to understand what is happening.
Here are the symptoms of her affliction:
- She stares for hours at a glowing screen, sometimes into the wee hours of moonlight
- Sometimes, her fingers go clickety-clack on the buttons for hours
- When we try to put our paws or noses on the clickety-clack machine, she pushes us away in a most unfair manner
- Sometimes, when her fingers go still, she cries for absolutely no reason
- Sometimes, when her fingers are flying, she cackles for absolutely no reason
- Sometimes, she stuffs in more food than any human has reason to eat in one day
She calls her glowing screen with the clickety-clack buttons a laptop. What is Zoey, if not a perfect laptop? Why would a human choose to fuss over a non-living lump of white plastic instead of cuddling with her adorable feline?
The other day, she took Tessa on a walk and we were overjoyed by this apparent return to normal behavior. But then she walked and walked and walked with her eyes looking off at nothing, mumbling to herself and Tessa almost passed out from heat before she noticed it was too hot to be walking so far with a fuzzy friend and no water!
Our beloved Man Pillow – you would call him Michael – tells us that our Trisha is doing something called writing which will be followed by something called publishing which will then be followed by something called marketing. He says we should be loving and supportive and, most of all, patient.
Patient? We sneeze on patient. Is he kidding? Trisha is in possession of a set of thumbs that we need for her to use frequently, especially to open our bags and cans of food. We cannot afford to be too patient. If she loses what little is left of her mind, we might starve!
What is this thing called writing? Will the next phases – these things called publishing and marketing – make her better or worse? Why would a human creature with plenty of access to food, water and loving fuzzy folk to cuddle torture herself with these activities? Can you kind people of the Internets explain this ludicrous human behavior to us?
Your comments would be most appreciated during this trying time. Now we must go lick all of our parts and find the perfect spot for our fifth nap of the day.
Zoey & Tessa