Too exalted for cockroach-hunting
Koosi my eldest cat used to be quite scrawny. Here she is in 2006, aged 7, with our voodoo doll for World Cup. She was finicky about her food, rejecting several brands of kibble outright. We asked our vet Mayem (at Pendragon Veterinary Clinic in QC) what we could give Koosi to improve her appetite; she recommended any children’s vitamins that contain Zinc. Every day for months I put 1 ml of vitamin syrup into a dropper, held Koosi by the scruff of her neck, and when she protested, squeezed the vitamins between her fangs. She hated it, but her appetite did improve.
Cats usually put on weight after they get spayed or neutered; the photo above was taken a year after she had her hysteria taken out. (Saffy and Mat have never been skinny. Even when Mat was a street cat he was regularly mistaken for a dog.)
This is Koosi today, aged 12. As you can see, she is assuming Garfieldian proportions. She’s so heavy, she now jumps up from my work table to the top of the bookshelf in two stages—first she leaps onto the books (the spines of the top row have been shredded by her claws), then she pulls herself up over the edge.
Recently I noticed a cockroach in the kitchen. It was skittering about three feet away from Koosi, who ignored it completely.
Aren’t you going to catch that? I asked her.
You want me to touch a cockroach? she said. It’s vermin! Disgusting!
But you used to catch and kill every insect that strayed into the house.
The idea of me touching a cockroach! With these paws, that I have licked for hours so they are immaculate. The nerve!
We never used to have roaches!
This stress is making me hungry. Fetch me some kibble and be quick about it.
So I went out in the pouring rain (after I had served Her Majesty), bought a dozen cockroach traps and planted them all over the kitchen. There will be no ipis in my apartment.