A Tale of Two Kitties

(PROZAC PET NATION)

Back to the subject of the puddle in the bathtub. Better make that two puddles. As mentioned in a previous blog, there were extenuating circumstances surrounding the incident that led up to Gizmo mistaking the bathtub for a litter box—again.

First, let me back up a little. One of the major reasons why I started this blog is because the very idea a cat can be toilet trained is rather fascinating. But mainly it is because cats that aren’t litter-box perfect are too often abandoned to shelters. Indiscriminate elimination is one of the major reasons why they’re there, according the ASPCA. Of these, an estimated 71 percent are never re-homed. Instead, their fate is lethal injection according to a study 1997 study by National Counsel on Pet Population. I won’t go into the numbers; they’re way too depressing.

Of course, this would never happen to Gizmo. I’m hoping this blog does some good, and gives hope to frustrated cat owners; the tireless ones scrubbing stains out of taupe carpets, or disinfecting other surfaces on a regular basis.

Some cats, like Gizmo, are not litter-box perfect, just perfect in every other way. 

Curiously enough, blogging has had quite another effect; one I could not have foreseen: Jealousy.

New to the blogosphere, getting this site off the ground has taken an inordinate amount of my time and attention. It’s driving Gizmo—a total showboat—totally crazy. At the same time I’m writing about her, she thinks I’ve forgotten her. See the irony? 

Late one evening, while I was in the midst of trying to hack some CSS code, Gizmo couldn’t take it anymore. She lit around the living room like a cat out of hell. She jumped on every table, every chair, every surface with record-breaking speed—simultaneously knocking over everything that got in her way. 

After two laps, I looked around the ransacked room. A pile of CDs, a bowl of popcorn and my mail lay strewn across on the floor, like I had just been robbed. The cute little, usually quiet kitty was looking at me with her big, round Persian-cat eyes.

My heart broke. Reinforcing her bad behavior, I instantly set my laptop aside, of course, and picked up her favorite toy. 

Not long after, I noticed the puddle in the bathtub. This, after days of being good.

It just begs the question: Is her going outside the box a behavioral issue? Is she getting even?

I remember the first time she peed in the bathtub, not long after I brought her home. After some googling, I called the vet frantic, imagining the worst, like a life-threatening UTI.

The girl who answered the phone informed me calmly that I could bring Gizmo in and the Vet could write her a script.

“A script?” I asked. “What’s a script?”

“A prescription.”

She sounded so matter-of-fact.

My mind was racing, “What the—? A Prozac for cats? What’s next.”

My knee-jerk reaction was absolutely not, not for my little kitty, even if she does suffer from the occasional jekyll-and-hyde syndrome.

Looking back, I don’t know why I was so shocked. Today, there truly is a pill for everything. Even if you are a cat.