Kevin and Squishy
It is 6:00am and I am on the break between feedings of the cats, Kevin and Squishy. Back when it was Kevin and I, I just threw down some food, and ol' Kev was a happy boy. I would sometimes put it out at night, so I didn't have to get up early. Then came Squishy. I remember very clearly the night my roommate asked if we might bring Squishy to live with us. We were at his former residence, where he was looking after said Squishy for the weekend. I walked into this one, like you would not believe. "I want to see Squishy!" I said.
Squishy lived in the basement, I was told, because he clawed things, but I understand now, also because he throws up on things. Squishy performed admirably, letting himself be petted, showing off his jutting ribs, because of the illness that I was told, would be his end "any day now," and lying in between my roommate and I on the sofa on a screened in porch. He purred, we drank, the wind moved softly through the trees, and I was quite content. So when Paul asked what I thought about Squishy coming to live with us, I quickly said yes. Even when he pointed out some of Squishy's poor habits like the clawing, and how would Squishy get along with Kevin, I offered a host of remedies, and said I wasn't worried.
What a setup.
Paul was away for several weeks, and my life became an endless cycle of feeding and cleaning. Even now that he is back there is a constant parade to the kitchen, or to the vacuum. Squishy and Kevin have to be watched while they eat, or they will eat each other's food. Kevin, a portly fellow, eats dry diet food. Squishy, a little black ghost of a cat eats wet "extra fat food." Now you tell me; in a house where one cat needs to lose weight and another to gain, what do you think is going to happen? That's right. Old "half way though death's door" Squishy is actually putting some meat on his bones....and so is Kevin. Kevin is begining to resemble a small yellow ottoman.
Every few days Squishy will barf on the carpet. Sometimes,. just for varieties sake, he'll do it before I come home from school. That's my favorite. Nothing like a long day at an unsatisfying job and then a little cat puke clean up. Gotta tell the truth. I let it sit one day, and it turned out, it was easier to clean up after it dried. So there you go. Your cleaning tip for the day, as long as you don't mind looking at it for a few hours.
And what is Kevin doing during all this you ask? Well, when he is not chowing down on the food, or, God help us taking an investigative nibble of the barf, he is alternately sleeping on his fat ass or attacking Squishy. He really wanted to be friends with the Squish at first, but this idea was rejected by the world weary Squishy, so now, either Kevin is totally bitter, or they have reached some sort of smack ridden compromise.
I do love them. They make me feel needed. I feel like a benevolent white capped nurse as I get a rag and clean the dried food off of Squishy's nose, or a benevolent space heater as he and Kevin sit on top of me on cold mornings. So the fact that this sitting occurs at 4:00 am? Hardly painful at all.
Hardly.
Squishy lived in the basement, I was told, because he clawed things, but I understand now, also because he throws up on things. Squishy performed admirably, letting himself be petted, showing off his jutting ribs, because of the illness that I was told, would be his end "any day now," and lying in between my roommate and I on the sofa on a screened in porch. He purred, we drank, the wind moved softly through the trees, and I was quite content. So when Paul asked what I thought about Squishy coming to live with us, I quickly said yes. Even when he pointed out some of Squishy's poor habits like the clawing, and how would Squishy get along with Kevin, I offered a host of remedies, and said I wasn't worried.
What a setup.
Paul was away for several weeks, and my life became an endless cycle of feeding and cleaning. Even now that he is back there is a constant parade to the kitchen, or to the vacuum. Squishy and Kevin have to be watched while they eat, or they will eat each other's food. Kevin, a portly fellow, eats dry diet food. Squishy, a little black ghost of a cat eats wet "extra fat food." Now you tell me; in a house where one cat needs to lose weight and another to gain, what do you think is going to happen? That's right. Old "half way though death's door" Squishy is actually putting some meat on his bones....and so is Kevin. Kevin is begining to resemble a small yellow ottoman.
Every few days Squishy will barf on the carpet. Sometimes,. just for varieties sake, he'll do it before I come home from school. That's my favorite. Nothing like a long day at an unsatisfying job and then a little cat puke clean up. Gotta tell the truth. I let it sit one day, and it turned out, it was easier to clean up after it dried. So there you go. Your cleaning tip for the day, as long as you don't mind looking at it for a few hours.
And what is Kevin doing during all this you ask? Well, when he is not chowing down on the food, or, God help us taking an investigative nibble of the barf, he is alternately sleeping on his fat ass or attacking Squishy. He really wanted to be friends with the Squish at first, but this idea was rejected by the world weary Squishy, so now, either Kevin is totally bitter, or they have reached some sort of smack ridden compromise.
I do love them. They make me feel needed. I feel like a benevolent white capped nurse as I get a rag and clean the dried food off of Squishy's nose, or a benevolent space heater as he and Kevin sit on top of me on cold mornings. So the fact that this sitting occurs at 4:00 am? Hardly painful at all.
Hardly.
posted by Violet Beauregarde | 7:00 AM
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