Do you like this story?
Don’t die on my shift: Adventures in cat-sitting
By Phyllis DeGioia
March 3, 2009
My neighbors have escaped winter by going to Mexico for a week. When they go out of town, I take care of their three cats. I love these cats, the senior Kitty Boy and the energetic youngsters Izzy and Otto. Kitty Boy has always preferred being outdoors and believes that being stuck inside is a fate worse than death. Last winter, when we endured double our annual snowfall, he ended up with an impacted bowel problem because he hates using the litter box and prefers the great outdoors. He spends the night inside while Izzy and Otto stay inside all day.
Just one day after they left, we had a day of nasty rain at 33F. Just before dinner, it was pouring. I went over to get Kitty Boy inside and feed everyone. No Kitty Boy. I went over again later, getting soaked again, no Kitty Boy. By now I am freaking out thinking he is hiding under something to avoid the rain and won’t come in on a night when temps were expected to drop below freezing and create rivers of ice from the rain. After my Italian class, it had stopped raining and not yet turned to ice. When I jingled keys, Kitty Boy obligingly showed up and went inside.
One night the youngsters apparently had a kegger. Stuff was knocked off the fridge door, rugs askew, a bag of kibble wrestled to the floor and nibbled open, a branch from a potted tree was in the center of the living room. The next day they knocked over the plastic container of kibble and helped themselves. The next day they’d knocked over the container again and helped themselves; this time, I put it in the fridge. Opposable thumbs are the key to maintaining control.
The worst was yet to come.
Yesterday morning I went inside and could not find Kitty Boy, who usually appears like clockwork for breakfast. I looked all through the house, under beds, behind furniture, all over the basement. No Kitty Boy. I started wondering if he’d managed to sneak out with me on Monday night even though I am careful to watch for that. It’s cold, and that would be bad news. I went over at lunch, jingling keys to see if he was outside. Nothing. Did he sneak out or was he inside and too sick to move? Last year Karen and Thor came home a day early because of Kitty Boy’s health. I wondered what I’d do if he was impacted and needed to go to the vet. Unlike the cuddly youngsters, Kitty Boy is a bit on the piss and vinegar side – “try to pick me up and you’ll regret it” – and that day he hadn’t had his daily medication that helps keep his bowels in good shape. It’s hard to give medicine when you can’t locate the cat.
At dinnertime, still no Kitty Boy inside or outside. By then I was ransacking the house in a panic, looking under all the furniture and through the basement, worrying that his bowels were impacted again or he was dying or dead. For the love of God, Kitty Boy, please do not die on my shift. I can’t handle it. I was about to lose it. At 10:30 pm, when it was around 5F, I went over with a flashlight and jingled keys, and through the window I could see him in the kitchen. &!$^*(&%%#$#!!! I did not open the door for fear he’d run out.
Thank God they come home tomorrow. That cat is going to give me a heart attack.
Share & Enjoy
|
Facebook
|
Twitter
|
Google Buzz
|
Digg
|
|
Technorati
|
StumbleUpon
|
Delicious
|
Email
|
Home
This is classic! I used to pet sit for some people who had two cats - one was 19 and diabetic, the other was HER MOTHER and was 22 or 23. Every day I prayed “please don’t die, please don’t die”.
My major heart-stopping moment was when caring for a pair of elderly Beagles. The front door didn’t catch well and one day the wind blew it open while I was there and the dogs ran out. No biggie - I was right behind them and how fast can two old, fat Beagles run, after all?
Pretty damn fast, as it turns out. First they headed straight for the road, and as I’m running behind them I’m frantically praying that they not get hit. They made it across the road and race into the driveway of a large property on the other side. Then a Rottie and another big dog appear, and I’m frantically making all sorts of deals with God that these dogs don’t kill the Beagles before I can get there. Fortunately everyone was friendly and I was able to capture my charges while they were making introductions. No harm, no foul.
But I know that episode took a few years off of my life.
Comment by Barb — March 3, 2009 @ 11:41 am
Some cats just don’t want to be indoors. there true animal instinct takes over and they want to hunt. When I was younger my friends family had three cats and they would get out of the house every night and all hunt together in the yard and then make it back into the house.
We knew this because they would leave dead mice on the front step for us.
Comment by Animals Away — March 3, 2009 @ 12:15 pm
As someone who not only pet sits for friends, but has been a farm sitter ( alpacas, sheep and whatever else constituted the menageries at the time) for years at several places, the story of “missing” Kitty Boy hits all too close to home! :)
To this day, I thank my lucky stars I wasn’t able to farm sit when a friend was having breast cancer surgery, leaving her husband in charge of the dogs, cats and the sheep, and her BC crawled into the closet to die.
Comment by Anne T — March 3, 2009 @ 12:40 pm
LOL another reason to refer out to a good pet sitter!
When I ran a pet sitting business that was the risk when taking care of older pets—but fortunately in all the years I ran it—only one bird passed away under our watch.
Get a gift certificate and reduce your stress…for the future.
:-)
Comment by Ark Lady — March 3, 2009 @ 7:54 pm
I’m an active cat sitter; been in business for fifteen years. I used to pet sit for an ex-breeder of show Persians. By time i began pet sitting for these people, all of their breeders were retired from breeding and showing, and “fixed.” Several of the very old Persians were on their last legs with chronic renal failure. The clients were very into green living, with large compost heap outside in back yard. The very first time i pet sat for them and we discussed their old kitties frail health, they asked me if i’d mind burying their cats in the compost heap if they happened to die while i was caring for them. I said NO WAY. This remains the oddest request i’ve ever had from clients since i started cat sitting in 1994.
Comment by cheriecat — March 4, 2009 @ 11:42 am
ewwwwwwww.
just ewwwwwww.
Comment by Gina Spadafori — March 4, 2009 @ 12:12 pm
And more than ewwwwww. Wrong.
A knowledgeable composter uses only vegetative matter in their mix.
Comment by Sonia — March 4, 2009 @ 2:04 pm
Epilogue
Just came home from Mexico. Kittyboy is fine - just pissed. Ran right out the door without even a hello. This is his usual routine when we have been gone for an extended period. When he comes in after this expression of anger he will not leave our side for a day or two to make sure we stay put. Thanks Phyllis! You know we would never hold you responsible for him dying on your watch. :).
PS. We were wondering where the food was! I found the bag taped up in the laundry bin and now I know where the plastic container is!!!
Comment by Kitty Boy's Mommy — March 4, 2009 @ 9:35 pm