Dear Pet Lady,
A cat visits my deck every day. It is very affectionate but has some issues. When petted, it likes to climb up and put a paw on either side of my neck, then painfully knead away. While doing this, it produces lots of thick, stinky drool that it tries to wipe all over my chin. Despite these hazards, I have trouble saying “no” to a little petting, since it seems to enjoy it and probably it is a little lonely due to its off-putting habits. Is there some way to reduce this behavior so others (and I) would pet it more? It also has a weird, kinky tail.
S.B.
DEAR S.B.,
How timely is your correspondence, dear S.B.; the Pet Lady is extremely peeved about cat visitors at the moment, but is happy that she might parlay her ill fortune in this regard to, perhaps, cause your cat-visitor difficulty to seem like the proverbial small-sized potatoes.
The Pet Lady, while currently catless herself, has several regular cat visitors who admit themselves to the Pet Manse via open windows or ajar doors and stroll about freely, sniffing things and stopping to stare at, say, blank walls or the pattern on the Oriental carpet. These visiting cats, so far as the P.L. knows, are three in number: Table, a black cat of exceptionally nice temperament, so called by the P.L. because of its exceptionally sturdy build (while not at all portly, Table looks as if you could rest a martini on its broad, flat back); Cow, a cat who looks very much like a Holstein and flees the Manse at the sight of its dweller; and a calico cat, who remains unnamed after one dreadful visit in which the P.L. petted it gently and thoroughly, then received a sudden, unforeseeable claws-out swipe for the trouble.
Heretofore, the Pet Lady has remained a gracious hostess to these cat visitors, despite their respective refusal to stand still and act as a cocktail stand, refusal to stay and be petted, and refusal to accept such petting in a nonviolent manner. However, henceforth, no cat visitors shall be allowed whatsoever; for one of these guests—or perhaps some mysterious cohort of theirs, who knows—availed itself, unmistakably so, and it greatly pains the P.L. to say it, of the centerpiece of the P.L.’s sacrosanct boudoir, yes, her very bed, and did not avail itself of it for the purpose of slumber, if you comprehend the P.L.’s implication.
It is hoped, dear S.B., that contemplating the Pet Lady having to purchase a new mattress fills you with sufficient schadenfreude to make your own cat-visitor issues, and the drool thereof, seem inconsequential. Cheers,
The Pet Lady
Consequential Pet difficulty? Send photos and letters to The Pet Lady, c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104, or e-mail thepetlady@seattleweekly.com.
