a cat named Daisy

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So my parent’s have this cat named Daisy. She was born during the Industrial Revolution and has been known by many names including Fazer, Piss-wagon, Cro-magnon, and most recently, The Yowler. She’s hyper thyroid (translation: perpetually starving, but doesn’t like the new cat food…ever) and has feline dementia (translation: gets lost in open spaces & pees any damn place she wants to). She’s old and she’s earned it, I suppose, but the trouble is, whenever we have guests over, they wake up in the middle of the night nearly frightened to death upon hearing Daisy’s yowling. The noise she makes is so unearthly that you would swear it was coming from some ghost in the night, some extraterrestrial terror…certainly not from a five pound tabby who’s roaming the halls.
You turn the light on and wipe the sweat from your forehead, calming yourself down as you remember what they told you about the cat: “don’t be alarmed if you hear strange noises at night…it’s just the cat”. Feeling better, you switch the light out and began to drift off into dreamland upon a unicorn, when suddenly, that horrible noise “woooowyaaaaooowww” is right beside you! You jump  out of bed, grasping a pillow between your arms that says “cats rule”, and look down with trepidation at the ball of fur next to your bed. It’s Daisy of course, but as it’s 3am, she’s taken on a whole new shape, and you begin to wonder if she’s really just a cat or a phantom demon from the underworld who’s come to get you. Needless to say, after disturbing nightmares involving a deranged “puss in boots” character who’s trying to kill you with a catnip toy shaped like a fish, you stumble down to the kitchen and find your enemy passed out like a kitten on top of the stove. But you’re not convinced of her innocence (not to mention alarmed by the fact that the cat is napping on the stovetop. My mom tells you that she just loves warm places and not to be scared of her. Besides, she adds, she was about to take Daisy to the vet. Sick? you ask. “No, no…we’re just going on vacation”.
Now before you think, “gosh, this poor ancient cat has to be subjected to a cage and torn from her house…what horrible people”, let me enlighten you. The place Daisy goes to is a cat exclusive veterinary hospital complete with white columns, a fish tank, and new age music. For the bargain price of $38 dollars per day, Daisy gets to reside in a “cat condo”. Yup, a floor to ceiling, multiple floored mecca with choice of views. “Does Daisy prefer a view of the road or a view of the woods?” a vet tech asks her. My mom considers the question and replies, “the woods, please”.
I told my husband about Daisy’s luxe accommodations, and after a brief silence, he realized that his upcoming golf trip to Vegas was going to be cheaper than Daisy’s stay at the cat condos. What can I say? The cat has style.

One thought on “a cat named Daisy

    Moozer said:
    October 16, 2011 at 2:44 am

    Daisy is "special" and needs to be a stove-kitty to stay warm. Her howling is to remind us that she is patrolling the halls while we sleep. Love, Mom

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