cats

This isn’t the post I thought I would be making.

For the past couple of weeks, I’d saved in my Wordpress drafts a small humorous anecdote about how my geriatric cat, Samson, was the first member of our family to experience Eastern medicine. (He took his three sessions of acupuncture amazingly well. Much better than I would have, I think.)

But, it turns out, that post was not meant to be. This past Saturday, we discovered that what we (and the vet) originally thought was a slipped lumbar disk or muscle strain causing him to lose sensation in his tail, was something much worse.

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Apologies in advance to all readers of this blog who aren’t “cat” people. You know you’re looking at writer’s block when you start seriously considering cute pet stories as subject material. Just pray I don’t turn this into a series.

I’ve written before about what an adventure it was to move three cats from Atlanta, Georgia, USA to Seoul, Korea — international 15-hour flight and all. Having survived that relatively unscathed, we thought the adjustment was going exceptionally well.

Our new apartment is quite large and our two male cats and one female now have plenty of room to continue to avoid each other as much as possible.

Samson

So, last week when Samson started using David’s bathmat as an extra “box,” we were really puzzled. We clean the litter boxes daily, so even though he’s finicky, there’s really nothing for him to complain about. Plus, we’ve lived here five months and this just started. The cause remained a mystery until last night, when we were sitting at the counter in the kitchen having a drink before going out to dinner.

We watched as our other cat, Obi, crouched low just outside the door of the laundry room (where we keep the cat boxes.) Obviously, some cat was in there taking care of business and he was waiting his turn—or, so we thought.

Obi 

It soon became apparent that Obi was stalking the cat inside. He waited, ears twitching, until Samson finished and started to walk through the door. Then, he jumped out in front of him. The only thing missing was a small human voice shouting, “Boo!”

Samson just sort of froze in his tracks and wouldn’t come out of the room. (I have no good explanation for how I managed to give a cat who’ll jump at his own shadow such a badass moniker.) Confused and not quite pleased with such a lackluster response. Obi tried a quick swat at Samson’s face. Like, “Hey! You awake in there? Let’s rumble!” This just backed Samson up, trapped in the laundry room, until we stopped laughing long enought to intervene, ahd ’shoo’ Obi away from the door to let Samson escape.

I think this mostly stems from Obi’s lack of playmates, and social personallity. He’s more like a dog than a cat, really. And, we’ve been neglecting him lately. Now, he’s resorted to punking the other cats as they come out of the john.

Last night solved the mystery of why Samson has found alternative, ahem, waste receptacles. If someone jumped out to scare you every time you had to pee, you’d avoid the bathroom, too.

Now, we just have to find a new game for Obi.

Refusing to abdicate dignity, originally uploaded by cathilee.

Part of Flickr’s day in the life of series. You can check out the rest of mine here.