the bitch cat with at least 12 lives
The last of a long line of lucky left- over and unwanted- by- others- cats who shared a good life with my sister and Siggie, died last week. Her name was Mama Meese and I previously wrote about her in another entry entitled "Georgetta Legs". Mama Meese is deserving of a second tribute.
For the past several years, when I went back to see my sis, I thought it might be the last time I would see Ma Meese. No one knew exactly how old she was but she now was deaf, had no teeth and weighed about 8 pounds I bet. My unofficial diagnosis was that she has some sort of cancer that was not allowing her to absorb any food so everything she ate came right through her. She seemed constantly hungry and when Siggie was still alive, she spent a lot of time trying to find just the right thing that Mama would eat -opening many different cans of cat food before the finicky cat would be satisfied. Siggie could often be heard calling her a bitch...but of course Mama was deaf, so it didn't phase her. She made funny noises in her sleep and walked around loudly saying what sounded like "Ma? Ma?" Although Siggie called her a bitch, she said it with love and all due respect for a cat of her age.
Trying to please Mama Meese (and calling her a bitch) was left up to my sis after Siggie died. Mama outlived Siggie and all the rest of their cats and at the rate she was going, we thought she might outlive us all. Up until the last few months, Mama still took good care of herself and managed to groom her skinny cat body and poop and pee in the litter box. But because her food would go through her pretty much undigested, Hanna and Wili, Barb's dogs, would wait for her to poop so they could go in the litter box and have a snack. Yeah that's pretty yucky. Soon though, in order to accomodate the dogs I guess, (and also because she was getting a little bit of cat dementia) Mama would just poop on the floor - this prevented the dog's snack from being mixed with kitty litter - considerate of her, wasn't it?
I thought perhaps my sis exaggerated the extent of Mama's fussiness with food and her almost desperate attempts to eat whatever Barb ate, but that was before my last visit. As soon as mama smelled bacon or roast beef cooking she was in the kitchen on the table demanding some. She would almost try to take it out of Barb's mouth...she didn't even care if it was hot. Barb had to be like a mama bird and chew up some of the food a bit, since Ma Meese had no teeth. My sis is the best animal hospice nurse I know and did whatever she could to appease mama and keep her eating and keep her comfortable - often cooking hamburger or steak for her in the early morning hours when Mama came into her bedroom, and pawed at Barb with her "Ma? Ma?" sounds until Barb got out of bed.
Mama woke Barb up, just like a little kid, a few times a night and demanded something. But then Barb had to open several cans of cat food before it was the right one. Sometimes she had to give her a piece of cheese or a can of Tuna. The cat had a voracious appetite once you discovered what she wanted. When I was there, the cat decided to try waking me up. Barb didn't think she could climb on my bed but she could and did, poking me in the face with her paw and making demands until I got up. I called her a few names but got up and tried to figure out what she might eat. Satisfied finally, she went back on the couch for a few more hours. But like a baby needing to be fed, she was soon back in my bedroom asking for something even she didn't know what.
One night I caught her trying to poop on the floor in the bathroom across from my bedroom. I went in and saw her and said, "Hey, you don't get to poop in this bathroom....I poop in this bathroom". She did look a little ashamed and hurried off to her box - but not before dropping an odoriferous yellow lump just to make me mad. "Bitch" I murmured under my breath.
When I left to come back home, I said goodbye to the divine mama m, knowing this would be the last time I ever saw her. I admired her will to live and my sister's dedication to keeping her happy, but I could see why she got called a bitch.
Finally Mama "shut er down" She just went on the couch and lay down and didn't get up again. It was a peaceful death - maybe to make up for all the times she woke up my sister. I felt sadder than I thought I would when my sis called and told me. But I was glad to have known such a cat - and glad she was able to live and die on her terms. Godspeed Mama Meese - say hi to all the cats and dogs I've loved before.
For the past several years, when I went back to see my sis, I thought it might be the last time I would see Ma Meese. No one knew exactly how old she was but she now was deaf, had no teeth and weighed about 8 pounds I bet. My unofficial diagnosis was that she has some sort of cancer that was not allowing her to absorb any food so everything she ate came right through her. She seemed constantly hungry and when Siggie was still alive, she spent a lot of time trying to find just the right thing that Mama would eat -opening many different cans of cat food before the finicky cat would be satisfied. Siggie could often be heard calling her a bitch...but of course Mama was deaf, so it didn't phase her. She made funny noises in her sleep and walked around loudly saying what sounded like "Ma? Ma?" Although Siggie called her a bitch, she said it with love and all due respect for a cat of her age.
 |
| Mama Meese |
I thought perhaps my sis exaggerated the extent of Mama's fussiness with food and her almost desperate attempts to eat whatever Barb ate, but that was before my last visit. As soon as mama smelled bacon or roast beef cooking she was in the kitchen on the table demanding some. She would almost try to take it out of Barb's mouth...she didn't even care if it was hot. Barb had to be like a mama bird and chew up some of the food a bit, since Ma Meese had no teeth. My sis is the best animal hospice nurse I know and did whatever she could to appease mama and keep her eating and keep her comfortable - often cooking hamburger or steak for her in the early morning hours when Mama came into her bedroom, and pawed at Barb with her "Ma? Ma?" sounds until Barb got out of bed.
Mama woke Barb up, just like a little kid, a few times a night and demanded something. But then Barb had to open several cans of cat food before it was the right one. Sometimes she had to give her a piece of cheese or a can of Tuna. The cat had a voracious appetite once you discovered what she wanted. When I was there, the cat decided to try waking me up. Barb didn't think she could climb on my bed but she could and did, poking me in the face with her paw and making demands until I got up. I called her a few names but got up and tried to figure out what she might eat. Satisfied finally, she went back on the couch for a few more hours. But like a baby needing to be fed, she was soon back in my bedroom asking for something even she didn't know what.
One night I caught her trying to poop on the floor in the bathroom across from my bedroom. I went in and saw her and said, "Hey, you don't get to poop in this bathroom....I poop in this bathroom". She did look a little ashamed and hurried off to her box - but not before dropping an odoriferous yellow lump just to make me mad. "Bitch" I murmured under my breath.
When I left to come back home, I said goodbye to the divine mama m, knowing this would be the last time I ever saw her. I admired her will to live and my sister's dedication to keeping her happy, but I could see why she got called a bitch.
Finally Mama "shut er down" She just went on the couch and lay down and didn't get up again. It was a peaceful death - maybe to make up for all the times she woke up my sister. I felt sadder than I thought I would when my sis called and told me. But I was glad to have known such a cat - and glad she was able to live and die on her terms. Godspeed Mama Meese - say hi to all the cats and dogs I've loved before.
 |
| Wili and Mama Meese |
Comments