Moe Moe's Play Date

The advice of the cat therapist seemed ridiculous to me--at least in so far as advising play dates with dogs--but I reasoned that, having shelled out $365, I might as well try it. So yesterday, I met my neighbor, Judy, in the elevator. Judy has a very cute hound dog, Leland. I explained to Judy(with whom I had heretofore never had a longer conversation than, "hello, how are you?)", that my cat attacks me and that the cat therapist suggested play dates with dogs. Judy did not burst out laughing as I would have had someone said that to me prior to this week, but agreed to bring Leland up for a play date. I explained that Leland would have to stay on his leash and Judy, if not Leland, was fine with that. I emailed the cat therapist immediately prior to the interspecies date, and she gave me some additional advice: Play the sound download for Moe Moe before, after and during the date. Give Moe Moe a special treat before the date. Give all my attention to Moe Moe. Judy should give all her attention to Leland. If I pet Leland, tell Moe Moe it's because he's asked me to pet Leland. I gave Moe Moe Friskies. I played the seagulls/ new age massage music. Judy and Leland arrived promptly. Moe Moe did not greet them at the door. I believe he was otherwise engaged in the bathroom. I explained the music that was playing and what the protocol for the visit was. I have no doubt that Judy thought both I and the therapist are insane. But she gamely went with the program. She sat on the couch and Leland was in front of her on the floor(where a dog would ordinarily be. ) I called to Moe Moe who emerged from the bathroom. On the floor, at the other end of the living room, in a slightly tense position, he stared at Leland. Leland took no notice of him, but appeared to eye the cat food on the floor of the kitchen. Moe Moe relaxed entirely and continued staring at Leland. After 10 minutes, Leland noticed Moe Moe and let out several sounds between a howl and a bark. Moe Moe stayed totally relaxed, not even moving when Leland barked. I told Leland that Moe Moe said He was a very good dog. Leland did not seem to care. Judy and Leland left after about 25 minutes. Moe Moe and I continued to listen to the seagulls/music. He's still relaxed and I'm relieved that no blood was drawn and no pawdicuffs were thrown during the date. I was a skeptic, but I think there may be something to the sound download.

The Good News: It's NOT the mother

A number of my devoted fans(4 to be exact) have inquired as to how the cat therapy session went. Rather than offering my opinion, I will describe the session's antecedent and the one hour session itself. On the day before therapy, I received an e-mail from the therapist containing a one hour segment of sound to be downloaded to the computer. I presumed I was supposed to play it for Moe Moe and did. It started with a female voice cooing, "you are a great cat. You are a very great cat.You are hearing seagulls and wonderful sounds." New age music--the kind you hear when you're getting a hot stone massage at a high end spa--played softly in the background, interspersed with odd sounds that I assumed were seagulls. Periodically, the female voice repeated softly, " you are a great cat. You are a very great cat. Yes you are." Moe Moe seemed to enjoy the download. He climbed up to the chair in in front of the computer and fell into a relaxed sleep, head and one paw hanging off the chair. I was in the sofa opposite the computer, relaxed and soothed by the sound, but craving a massage. My head and paw were not hanging off the sofa. Promptly at 4:00, the therapist arrived. She had a large tote bag with her, out of which she took crumpled tissue paper, a massive amount of catnip , two toys with feathers and an empty paper towel roll. She asked me to play the sound download she had sent so he would, in the future, associate it with the session. As Moe Moe rolled around on the catnip covered paper, she laughingly said, we'll get him stoned. And, for her entire visit, he lay, mostly inert, in a stoned trance on my living room carpet. I reiterated what I previously described as his issues...his attacking me daily, stealing food and destroying the furniture. With respect to the first issue, although she did not say it in so many words, she made it clear that it was not my fault. He simply has a lot of energy.(I thought that was somewhat euphemistically put.) She inquired as to whether I had friends in the building with dogs. I didn't know why she was asking, but I answered that I didn't. She said,"that's too bad because one way of channeling that energy was by him being with a dog. He'll be tense and observing the dog will expend the excess energy." She continued, "the dog should be on a leash and if I pet the dog I should say--Moe Moe, you want me to pet the dog." That's so Moe Moe thinks it was his idea. I asked what I should do if he appears to want to attack the dog. She suggested that I distract him by throwing a toy. I felt bad that I didn't have friends in the building with dogs---actually what made me feel worse is thatI don't have friends in the building at all--but then I remembered that my cousin has a wonderful dog, Ghost, who would make a great therapy dog for Moe Moe. The therapist became all excited and her prescription was that I arrange a play date with Ghost and Moe Moe. I explained that a major problem with my "great cat," as she kept calling him throughout, is that once he gets that demonic look in his eye, his teeth go into my leg very quickly. Her remedy was to be quicker that his is. (I'm still mulling that over.) With respect to eating my and everyone else's food, she praised me for doing the right thing by locking him in my bedroom or, as I put it, putting him in jail. She suggested that I not call it "putting him in jail," but rather tell him I'm giving him his"private time," because he will then think it was his own idea to be isolated from society. As to his shredding my chairs, she suggested I get a tall scratching post. Why he would use it when he has the dining room chairs, is beyond me, but I'll try. During much of the session, we discussed restaurants in the neighborhood. I paid her $365.

It's Always the Mother

When Moe Moe found the six scratching posts in my living room wanting and therefore designated my six new beautifully upholstered dining room chairs as the perfect scratching posts, I barely flinched. Yes, I had spent a bundle on the chairs, and 1 year later they they look like the "befores" from a reupholstery workshop. But he's a cat with claws and excellent taste. I should have known he'd to prefer $250 chairs from Crate and Barrel to $10 scratching posts from Petco. And when, having guessed that human food was probably an improvement over Friskies and Iams, he stole the chicken off my plate and stuck his paw in my oatmeal, tasted it and stuck it in again for seconds, I was only mildly annoyed. How could I get angry when he looked so cute using his paw as a spoon. And when I had company and he jumped on the table, stuck his head, first in the communal pitcher and then in each guest's glass, because the water apparently tasted better than the fresh water I had just put in his bowl, I thought it was funny and adorable. My guests were polite, simply asking for new drinking glasses, but I saw from their surreptitious eye rolls that they thought Moe Moe's behavior was out of the bounds of normal and my tolerating it was looney. But, there comes a time when even the most indulgent, adoring mother must acknowledge that her child, in this case, her cat, may not be perfect. And there may come a time, when she must admit that both she and her child, again, in this case, her cat, may need professional help. And that time has come. Nightly,at 11 pm. my normally friendly, affectionate, sweet pussycat becomes possessed. His eyes glaze over and he stares at me malevolently as if he's never seen me before. I half expect his head to spin around 360 degrees. He jumps on the portion of my leg between the knee and ankle and sinks his teeth in. I'm prey and he's going to tear me to shreds.I try to fling him off by kicking and when that doesn't work, I pry his teeth out of my leg. I'm scared of him, but within a minute, he 's his old sweet pussycat self. I 'm bleeding and he keeps me company while I wash and disinfect my maimed leg. I was reluctant to call a therapist, because my mother always said, " Why would any mother send their child to therapy? The therapist is always going to say it's the mother's fault." When my mother would say that, I would say, "Ma, that's ridiculous," but, in fact, I learned, in therapy, that she was quite correct. It is always the mother's fault.(OK, 1% of the time it's the father's fault.) But I don't believe in demonic possession and, even if I did, I don't know any exorcists. So, Tuesday, I'm paying $350 for a therapy session with a cat therapist, probably to learn that his demonic behavior is something I caused.