Happy Birthday Hoolie

Today would have been Hoolie the Cat's 16th Birthday. 

Hoolie was an indoor cat. She escaped on a few occasions but never got far. After realizing that she had slipped out the back door so-to-speak, I would discover her rolling around in the nearest patch of grass.  Although I was always happy that she didn't run away, I had to question her motivation for the great escape. To munch on a few blades of grass only to puke them up later? Instead, I decided that the four walls of my apartment were driving her catty and a little sunlight on her matted fur was a tempting opportunity.

Even if she decided to run for it, pedestrians would slow her down as they stopped to pet the "cute little dog". Besides, it wouldn't be long before her belly got stuck as she tried to hop a curb. 

In honor of Hoolie, who passed away a few years ago I'm posting a link to a couple humorous posts about her. 

http://innerhumorist.blogspot.com/search/label/Hoolie%20the%20Cat

Why Not Invent Nintendo Wii for Cats?

At brunch with friends this morning, the conversation turned to pets.  I have written about my old cat Hoolie once before and I again found myself with fond and humorous memories of her.

Hoolie was part Maine Coon.  To be honest, I can't remember if this was an estimation once made by a veterinarian or if it was fiction that I created to explain her large size.  The reality is that Hoolie was big-boned and extremely hairy, but she also had an enormous gut. Years later, it was determined by my wife that she was an emotional eater; eating when she was happy, sad, or mad, all of which were emotions relating to me and our relationship.  Had this been explained to me years earlier, my social life would have taken a nose dive if I had told anyone this.  But instead, my prospects for great social prosperity suffered for reasons explained below.

When I moved to Boston, I made an appointment at a nearby veterinarian's office to have Hoolie checked out for the first time in a few years.  After discussing some of her dental issues (the cat's not the vet's) and some circular arguments about whether or not cats should have canine teeth, the vet suddenly got very serious.  He showed me a diagram showing the spectrum of feline weight categories and with an accusatory finger pointed the leading edge of the red zone of cat fatness.  My cat was overweight and it was dangerous for her health.  

I wasn't upset about this, for I knew that she had a weight problem and that her health was at risk.  After a long-winded explanation of the potential health outcomes for my cat, the doctor gave us a prescription that I didn't expect: 20 minutes of daily exercise.

I suddenly had a vision of me walking my cat down the streets of Boston with a hot pink leash and cubic-zirconium studded-collar.  She would need good walking shoes and some spandex, too.

I don't remember the exact words, but the conversation that followed went something like this:

While imagining my self-respect and social life bursting into flames, I asked "How exactly do I exercise my cat for 20 minutes a day?"

"With an interactive toy," replied the well-trained doctor.

"An interactive toy?" I asked now curious about what irresistible device will have my cat sweating with heart racing while I'm at work.

"Yes, a toy that will require involvement from both of you."

"Huh? Like what?" I mumbled now imagining the smell of smoking ashes that were once my social life and potential to ever date again.

"Oh. Like a feather toy.  You know, the kind that you wave around and tease your cat with."

"Yes, I do know about the feather toys but I have yet to catch the prerequisite bird.  Besides, I can barely find 20 minutes of exercise for myself.  How will I find time to exercise my cat?"

Without a clear answer to my last question, I stopped at the pet store on the way home and invested in a feather toy for my cat and I.  It was days later, while waving the feather around and watching Hoolie swing and miss in the same manner I usually do with a tetherball, that I realized that I was saving my cat's life in spite of my own.  That's love.

After moving out of the area for a couple years before moving back, we took Hoolie to the same vet for another checkup.  Only this time, we brought our newborn baby with us.  With the family in the waiting room, I experienced deja vu in the examining room with Hoolie and the vet.  While listening to the lecture from the vet about weight, I couldn't help but think that it was getting late and almost time for my son's nap.  

The vet didn't dare propose exercise again, but instead prescribed a restricted and low-fat diet. Knowing that my cat would cry through the night, I told him that it would be an impossible transition.  At this point, my son was screaming his head off in the waiting room, most likely because he was tired and hungry.  I told the doctor that I had to go, but he insisted that I commit to reducing my cat's intake by what I later calculated to be about 50%.  

I now had a vision of my son finally sleeping through the night while I was still sleep-deprived because my cat was hungry.  It's not that the love was gone, but Hoolie was enjoying her life and the disappearing food proposal was going to ruin the entire household's path towards peaceful nights.

I couldn't make the commitment requested by the doctor and we left to take my fat cat and sleepy baby home.

In the end, Hoolie did pass away from congestive heart failure.  I still believe that changing her diet would have done very little to impact her overall weight so late in life.  Instead, I prefer to remember days past when I would tease her with a feather toy and she would run and jump while barely leaving the ground.  

So, now I can't help but wonder how wonderful it would be if someone would buy an interactive toy and wave it in front of me.  I'm not nearly as overweight as my cat and I'm part Maine Coon by the way, but I still think that I could use a little incentive like this to get in shape.  I don't know...it could be something I really wanted like an Iphone.  It would only take 20 minutes a day and it would improve my overall health.  However I should warn you that I would eventually find the IPhone when nobody was looking and surf the Internet like crazy until I was found with it while curled up next to a radiator and purring happily.

The IPhone version of the feather toy will be the best option, because I will draw the line if anyone tries to restrict my diet by 50% and limit it to low-fat foods.  I would probably cry all night.  

Twitch Came First?

If you have seen me in the past few days, you may have noticed that my lower left eyelid is twitching. You were probably too polite to draw attention to it for fear of embarrasing me. Thank you. In fact, you will most likely deny it even after reading this. No really, you're too kind.

The muscle spasm is not continuous, but it is uncontrollable and occurs frequently throughout the day. It's making me quite irritable actually. It is embarrassing to be at the beach or town common and talking to someone when my eyelid suddenly decides to do the jig. These scenarios require very quick thinking.

Do I draw attention to it and hope that we can move past it with a polite laugh? This option might highlight the facial fandango that perhaps they hadn't noticed yet and hopefully never will.

Or do I ignore the twitch and distract the would-be gawker with another part of my body? I could just stamp my foot very loudly and exuberantly. This might work, but feels like a lose-lose situation.

Instead I would choose the safest option and blink both of my eyes repeatedly, commenting on how great my friend looks. "So great that I can't believe my eyes!" This attention deflection will only seem awkward for the minute or two it takes to wrap up the now doomed conversation.

I am also irritated by my eyelid's antics because it's uncomfortable. It feels droopy yet quivers as it unsuccessfully attempts to hold itself in place. (By the way, it's probably helpful in times like these that I no longer believe that the eyelid's primary responsibility is to prevent my eyeball from falling out when I'm tired. This surely would cause more anxiety). The quivering is rapid and chaotic, unlike normal eyelid behavior. I'm certain that we all experience a little muscle spasm occasionally, but it rarely lasts more than a minute. Imagine watching an entire news program contemplating the meaning of 'Eyewitness' as your face flips out.

This recent experience with my left eye reminds me of my late and beloved cat, Hoolie. My wife and I would laugh and joke when she was mad, because she would appear to be really agitated and repeatedly blink her left eye. This was typically followed by an unwarranted attack on my shoe, The Swiffer, or another cat. She was normally a sweet and gentle 25 pound Maine Coon cat, but once the blinking started it was all over. It was rarely obvious what had this cool kitty all worked up and what led to the eye blinking, but we laughed anyways (inappropriate).

These memories of my cat have definitely made me feel guilty about the teasing. So, please don't judge me too quickly. I always apologized and worked collaboratively with her to identify a likely source of frustration and explore other possible and safer outcomes. This approach was often unsuccessful and only resulted in more eye blinking and 'catattacks'.

But more than the feelings of guilt, these memories have made me realize that perhaps it was a muscle spasm that resulted in Hoolie's irritation and not the converse. I also now wonder if the blinking of her left eye was an attempt to conceal a twitching eyelid. I probably would have noticed had she not been stamping her paw so loudly and exuberantly.