The Stalker

You know how sometimes when you go to the doctor you get the question, do you feel safe at home?  The harsh reality is that I’d have to answer that as a no.  I live with a stalker you see. 

There I am, comfortably ensconced on a stool at my kitchen counter, sipping my tea, wordling, when suddenly, out of nowhere, there he is.  Sitting there.  Those big green eyes staring at me, boring holes through me, unblinking.  He shifts ever so slightly.  I nervously bring my gaze back to my wordling, but I feel him staring.  I look over at him again.  He’s moved closer. I scooch myself away from him a bit.  Then it happens.  Not satisfied with just the stalking he decides to go for blood.  I’m paying attention though, so I am able to dodge him just in time. 

 “No,” I yell!  Followed by, “Enough! No more!!”.  Then I realize.  This situation cannot continue as is any longer.  It was hard to come to terms with it, but I knew for my and his well-being we needed to address the issue.

My cat Storm, aka, the stalker (and biter and scratcher) needs professional intervention.  We’re talking something on the magnitude of Prozac.  Highest allowable dosage possible.

He wasn’t always that way.  He was the most lovable, cuddly kitten and cat ever.  Unlike our first cat, Spike, who would lay juuust out of reach of your touch.  No petting please.  I’ll just lay here near by you.   

Not Storm.  Hold me, pet me, snuggle me was what he wanted.  And your lap was not your own.  Uh uh.  It belonged to him.  As soon as you were in a sitting position and there was a lap available to him, he claimed it.  And then of course, you couldn’t move because you didn’t want to disturb him. 

But then we brought home a dog, Daisy. Took about a year, but he adjusted pretty well.  Then we brought home a second dog, Winnie.  It’s seven years later and he still hates Winnie.  To be fair, we do think that if given the chance Winnie might decide to have him for a Scooby snack.  But that being said, we just attributed Storm’s erratic behavior to living with a dog he hated.

Of the two of us in the house however, I was the only one Storm stalked and attacked.  It was particularly challenging when I was working from home, on zoom calls.  One minute I am saying something like, “Let’s take a look at the declining brand awareness” and then “Ow!!”.  Storm, who had been laying there nicely one minute, decided to take a chunk out of my leg.  Attention over here please!  “Sorry everyone” I’d have to say. “Give me a second to get rid of my cat who just bit me.  BRB”. 

One visit to the vet however, and we discover the root of the problem.  Hyper thyroid! Half a pill twice a day should do the trick and your cat should be back to normal they say. And here we are, a couple of months later, and sure enough, he’s back to his cuddly, non-stalkery self.  No biting. No scratching. 

Ah.  Life is good. Except of course, trying to get him to take his pill…have you ever tried to give a cat pill?  Well, let’s just say we’ll save that for another post.  And revel in the moment of being able to sit, stalker free, at my counter, sip my tea and wordle.