Her royal highness

My poor kitty was recently diagnosed with diabetes, and before the expensive and difficult treatment by way of insulin, the vet has recommended a special diet for her. Unfortunately, the presence of visiting PITA-cat makes simply leaving the food out in a dish not feasible; he's a bit of a pig, and it's not like he needs the special diet.

So my already spoiled cat now gets her meals served directly; I'm sure she thinks the clear glass bowl is crystal, for certainly the royal treatment is going to her furry little head.

The other morning, I brought her the dish of food. She barely glanced at it.

I lowered it slightly and tried to get her attention. Her ear barely flicked.

I lowered it further. She wasn't deigning to acknowledge this.

I knelt on the floor to give it to her. She uncurled and stood up to receive my offering.

I now know my place.

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Now playing: Nine Inch Nails - Closer
via FoxyTunes

Morning routine

I had my oatmeal ready to go, with its flaxseed and raisins and brown sugar stirred in. I had my coffee mug filled, with my El Slavador blend of coffee, black, just the way I like it. Everything was in its place as I sat down to the table.

Or was it? Something was missing, a niggling sense that the routine wasn't quite complete.

And then the cat emerged from wherever she'd been hiding to begin her morning routine, weaving around my chair legs, purring and chirping, butting her head against my outstretched hand. When I neglected my humanly duties, she put one front paw up on the arm of the chair, the other batting at my arm, a message that said, with a clear accompanying chirp, "Here I am. Why are you not worshiping? Hel-looo!"

Much better. My morning breakfast routine was complete.

Contentment

I found a window of bliss this afternoon. Tired from odd sleeping patterns and cranky with several people, I was sprawled out on the floor. With purposeful strides, Visiting Cat approached me, butting his head under my chin. One stroke of my hand, and his motor was going. After a few minutes of this, he curled up in the crook of my arm. I shifted slightly, using my arm and him as an impromptu pillow.

Ever had a soft, warm, faintly purring pillow? If you haven't, you don't know what's missing.

I think he was content, too, or so I gathered from his little feline sigh and continuous soft purring.

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Now playing: Poe - Fingertips
via FoxyTunes

Spoiled? What's that mean?

There were two conversations going on concurrently this evening.

One family member was complaining about a wrenched knee. Meanwhile, I was on the floor with the cat. "She's got a knot [at the scruff of her neck]," I said to no one in particular, "like maybe she was tense when the vet gave her the shots." The cat tensed up beneath my probing fingers. "Poor baby. Does that hurt?" I asked (the cat. Duh).

"You should try the heating pad," came the advice.

"For the cat?" I asked.

Well, yeah, if a human is hurtin' and a kitty is a-hurtin' the heating pad should definitely be used on the feline.

....Aaand, posts like this warrant my starting new tag categories. I cannot guarantee they will always be used concurrently, but I think both shall be useful for future posts.