Cat Piss and Regret: A tale of two kitties
I pat the bed next to me almost frantically. I need my cat, Sammy, to lie next to me for the next 30 minutes and I need him to feel loved doing it. You see, Sam is a sensitive boy, and disruption to his routine, or even a feeling of disconnection from his primary caretaker (me) sends him spiraling. And by spiraling, I mean he pees on things. And me. Repeatedly. Sam came into my life as a foster fail. My first cat, Waffles, had died suddenly a little while before and the littermate he left behind, B, was deeply disturbed by Waffles’ absence. I was too. I had had Waffles since he was a tiny kitten found alongside his littermates in a Baltimore City dumpster. When I came home from the emergency vet with an empty carrier, I laid on my living room floor and sobbed into the night, not at all numbed by the half pint of vodka I had drank to escape what had happened. Waffles’ premature death rocked my world. A day like any other was shattered by a strange cry from t...