Why It’s a Bad Idea to Keep a 15 Year Old ‘Cat Mat’

Blue, Bettina and I attended a canine event in Gardiner, Maine.  It’s an annual event and typically we man the Maine Greyhound Placement Service booth but this year we decided to attend as part of the general public.  We met our friends Billy, Shannon, Trouble and Sugaree and spent the morning wandering around, meeting, greeting, visiting and chatting with all the dog folks out and about.

Looks perfectly harmless, right?

As we worked our way towards the exit of the park, we came upon a booth for a mobile veterinarian.  This group is there every year.  We stopped to chat with the vet manning the table.  It wasn’t long before both the vet and I noticed Bettina.  While Blue was people and dog watching, Bettina was laser focused on the vet’s table.  She was trying to work her way around a big box on the ground at the end of the table to get closer.  Despite dogs and people swirling all around her, she seemed oblivious to this bounty.

The vet had some papers and some information about canine weight loss on the table.  Bettina was desperate to get to the other side of this table and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why.  Soon she was barking her fool head off.  I thought at first, she was barking at the vet.  But she was not.  After several rounds of barking she tried to jump up on the table.  I pulled her back several times and scolded her.  She was not dissuaded.

The human vet and the human mumma are most definitely not sight hounds.  So we can be forgiven for the fact that it wasn’t until her second or third attempt to gain the summit of the table that we figured out what was so important to her.  I had not noticed it before, but the vet had 3-4 pieces of fur sitting at the back of the table.  They looked like cat hides and at first I was a little horrified thinking he had skinned some cats and saved their skins.  

It wasn’t as gruesome as that but nearly so.  In fact, they were ‘cat mats.’  This is a term I had never heard of before but apparently if a long haired cat goes un-groomed and gets too matted, the only solution is to shave the poor thing down.  What gets shaved off is a cat rug the size of the feline in question. 

I felt a little sad for any cats that ended up in this condition.  On the table was evidence of at least 4 cats who had ended up that way.  What was puzzling to me, however, is why anyone would want to save such a thing.  Maybe you save ONE as a cautionary tale to other cat owners.  But saving four of them?  That’s a collection.  That indicates a hobby.  These ‘cat mats’ weren’t in the shape of the Virgin Mary or anything.  There wasn’t anything special about them that I could see.

It went from strange to truly bizarre when the vet informed me that at least one of them was 15 years old.

Bettina, just before "the incident"

  Someone saved a giant mat of cat fur for more than a decade!  As I was pondering this, the vet took the rattiest of the four mats and held it out at Bettina level. 

Ole Lightning Fussypants did not look a crazy gift vet in the mouth.  She grabbed that nasty piece of fur so quickly that neither the vet nor I actually saw it happen.  The next thing we knew, she was shaking that ancient cat hair for all she was worth.  It must have smelled very cattish because she seemed convinced it could and should be killed.

I did have to agree with her on that one point, it should have been killed.  But the vet was of another opinion.  He started yelling that I should not let her rip it and other things I wasn’t paying attention to as I wrestled Bettina for her prize.  She was so in the cat killing zone that she just chomped on that fur fast and hard, paying no attention to my fingers that had been jammed into her mouth in an effort to pry her jaws open. 

I was eventually successful in prying open her mouth and grabbing the soggy, nasty old cat fur back, but not before she flattened several fingers between her molars.  I threw the thing back at the vet and he spent a little time petting and primping it before he replaced it with the other three. 

He gave me a wry smile and said, “Huh.  She’s high prey.” 

I took a moment to formulate my response as I massaged some blood back into my crushed fingers.  I decided that the response that would get me in the least amount of trouble was, “Yes.  Yes she is.” 

“I guess I shouldn’t have held that out for her to sniff.” 

Again I took a moment to mentally edit my response in the interests of politeness.  “No.  No you shouldn’t have.”

To Dream the Possible Dream

I’m just going to throw this out there. We have visited, and will visit in the future, animal communicators. I know some people believe that animal communication is possible, and others think it is a bunch of hooey. I personally waiver on the issue, however, I am willing to keep an open mind on the subject. Sometimes, while I’m sitting there across from the communicator, I desperately want it to be true. So those of you who do not believe, can read this missive, laugh and think what a crazy person I am. Those of you who believe, you’ll probably relate to what I’m about to tell you all.

While I’m not entirely sure it is possible to communicate with our pets, I definitely love the idea that I might have some conduit into their mysterious little minds. At various events, we’ve probably sat with four or five different communicators in the Southern and Mid-Coast Maine area. Of those we’ve met, it seemed like two really had a connection with the kids. Everything they said had relevance to their personality or to specific events. Of the two communicators, our favorite is Sara Moore. For that reason, we’ve visited Sara more than a few times.

The first time I visited Sara with Bettina in tow, I was very interested to see what Bettina had to say. Bettina isn’t shy about expressing her opinions, but usually it is via sign language or barks, growls, howls and whines. Being a fairly astute observer of my kid’s behavior I have no doubt what many of those communications meant. Still, what did she think of her new situation? What was this little black diva thinking?

Typically when we visit a communicator, I have a list of specific questions I’m looking for answers to. I also check on their health status-anything hurt? Anything out of whack? Then, when I’ve gotten all my answers, I ask if there is anything that the kids may want to say/tell me.

Turns out Bettina thought it was very important to let me know that her favorite color is purple. Not just any purple, but lavender. Being the true royal that she is, she demanded a lilac colored coat. And a purple collar. Oh and while I’m at it, she would also like her toenails painted purple. Huh? Who does she think she is some spoiled reality star?

Still, I want to be a good mom. Plus her royal demands allow me to do something that mumma loves, make the kids fashion plates with fabulous coats and accessories. I also think Dr. Phil would tell me that it’s never a good idea to crush anyone’s dreams. Yes. That’s exactly what he’d tell me. I’m sure of it.

In my best “what baby wants, baby gets” fashion, we began the search. At the Maine Greyhound Placement Service Annual Reunion, we found two purple collars. Neither were lavender but until we found the perfect one, they looked great on Bettina. Plus they were on clearance. At the fabric store I procured lavender flannel which will make a beautiful coat for my tiara wearing beast.

Collar, check. Coat, check (well, sort of). That left toenails. I did some research and decided I would order her some doggy nail polish to put in her Christmas stocking. Bettina is impatient and she decided she had no intention of waiting that long. Her opportunity presented itself so perfectly, I am slightly afraid at her ability to bend the will of the universe to her own purposes. It must be her superpower. Only I’m not certain that this power will always be used for good. In fact, I’m certain it will be used for purposes that are not at all altruistic. Case in point: this past weekend Blue, Bettina and I were working a Meet & Greet on behalf of Maine Greyhound Placement Service. Our table was at an annual event called Gardiner Barks in the Park.

Though the day was beautiful, the festival wasn’t very busy. Our table happened to be next to the Petco grooming salon table. We had plenty of time to chat with and get to know our neighbors. Bettina waged a campaign to charm Lindsay, the grooming salon manager. She was cute and friendly and most agreeable. She was on her best behavior.

I didn’t think too much on it until Lindsay kindly offered to trim and Dremel both kids’ nails since it was so slow. That is a job I definitely do not relish. Whenever I get out the nail clippers, it’s big wide eyes, big deep sighs and constant pulling away of the feet and screaming bloody murder when I haven’t even clipped anything yet. You can bet that mumma gratefully accepted that offer. Lindsay did Blue’s nails first. As usual, when your kids are in the care of strangers, Blue was good as gold.

The time came to do Bettina’s nails and Her Royal Highness laid herself out, as if to provide easy access to her nails. The only thing she didn’t do was regally extend each paw. As Lindsay clipped and Dremeled Bettina’s nails, I could swear there was a little more animal communication going on there. Bettina was looking intently at Lindsay and something must have passed between them because seconds later Lindsay asked if she could paint Bettina’s nails.

I explained that Bettina had actually requested this very service when we visited the animal communicator. Without blinking an eye, Lindsay asked me what color Bettina said she wanted. Her eyes lit up when I told her and soon an assistant was standing next to us with a snazzy metallic purple doggy nail polish. Bettina lay back and closed her eyes as Lindsay transformed her nails into her purple dream.

I’m not sure there will be any living with her now that she has had her spa day. I better get busy with that purple flannel and my sewing machine. She’s strutting around the house like a small, hairy, black and purple peacock. From here on out, I’m going to rethink asking those open ended questions when we visit the animal communicator.