Priorities in Order

Things not on my list of priorities

  • Hints of war with Iran. Not in my skill set and way above my pay grade.
  • Prime Minister’s corruption and request for immunity. I think this is taking longer than the Mueller Report.
  • Third election. As if anything will be different.
  • Putin and Zelensky are going to be at a Yad Vashem event together. I’ll believe it when I see it.
  • Impeachment in the US. I can’t remember that far back.
  • Potential constitutional crisis in US. Meh.
  • Harry and Meghan break from the royal family. Yawn.
  • Lunar eclipse during full moon. Missed it.
  • Massive rainstorms in Israel. Didn’t go outside.

My #1 Priority

  • Catsky-Doodle’s teeth.

My poor little cat was getting skinny, but it seemed like she was still eating. This past week, I noticed that she was avoiding kibbles but could eat soft food. I called the vet who makes house calls and wrangled her into the carrier.

It was like a prison riot in my living room while we waited.

Tranquilizers. Oral surgery on the coffee table. Shots of painkillers and antibiotics. And then my poor drunk monkey was finally coming out of it (no video to protect her dignity).

Around 5am the next morning, she loudly declares her desire to go outside. In. The. Rain.

I regret my decision to let her out a few hours later when I can’t find her anywhere. I do a few laps around the neighborhood. Where are her new hiding places? She usually doesn’t leave the yard.

Finally, she comes home. She’s anxious, noisy, pacing, shivering. She won’t stay on my lap. She won’t curl up anywhere. She won’t be swaddled. Arrgh!

It’s a long night, but we make it.

Today, she is closer to her normal self. Playing, less vocalizing, wandering in and out. It’s sunny, so I left the door open.

This afternoon I found her like this.

IMG_20200111_140913

Catsky-Doodle is under Kit Kat Monster. I was airing out the Cat Condos since there was a bit of sun today.

IMG_20200111_145454

Later, they rearranged themselves. I put the lid back on and since I last checked on them, they are both still in there. I mean, it’s not like they have a whole apartment at their disposal.

IMG_20200111_141045

Psycho Kitty is inside, swaddled, living her best life with her human. The white cats could take a page from her book.

Update: Catsky-Doodle is in the house, but it may be another long night of prison riots.

A Lion taking care of kitties

I read that the municipality has budgeted $27,000 (100,000 NIS) for cat food to feed Jerusalem’s stray cat population. The city has moved garbage bins to underground locations leaving the food source for street cats inaccessible, so some feeding stations are getting set up.

The new mayor of Jerusalem is named Moshe Lion (there was a notice letting everyone know that Lion is the correct spelling in English, though the pronunciation is /lee – OHN/).

I’m obviously easily amused: Lion —> cats.

Anyone who has ever been to Jerusalem knows that there are cats EVERYWHERE.

Living in Jerusalem, it was inevitable that I would eventually get adopted by some cats. As things stand now, this dog person has 3 cats. For the most part, I treat them like dogs while letting them be independent, aloof cats, who demand snuggles.

 

My three cats in order of adoption (left to right) –
Psycho Kitty, Catski Doodle, KitKat Monster,
but they go by Kitty! or Cat! or Sweetie Pie
or whatever I decide to call them that day

 

These two are obviously related, but adopted about a year apart. As you can see, they take care of each other in the winter by snuggling and head cleaning.

IMG_20181231_191447

These two have spent enough years together that they don’t mind being close, but they don’t snuggle. I wrap them up like sausages.

IMG_20190103_222147

Fine. I confess.
These cats are totally spoiled. There’s a heating pad under the blanket so that they can be relaxed and warm. They eat as much as they want, whenever they want. I am their personal door opener. Even though they are free to go outside, they would still rather poop in the litter box. I suspect they like that I shovel their poo.

They thank me by being purring blankets in winter, unconditionally supporting my hopes and dreams, and being good listeners who give only the best advice at the right time. There’s gentle headbutting to let me know they are underfoot, and they like to share my dinner with the adorable ability to eat daintily from my fingers.

Now here’s the problem: I need to find a way to get in on that Jerusalem cat food budget. I have the whole cast of Cats hanging out in my yard and my soft, bleeding, lion heart tells me to feed them. It started with Kitler (he’s old, cranky, and has a little mustache), then Ginger (the helper cat) showed up with Grey Tigger (very noisy whiner) and Bert (short for Orange Sherbet), the kitten. And those are just the ones I’ve named . . .

 

Feed me.