Gesso: the cat with 7 lives
I really need to have words with my cat about his remaining lives. He’s not yet one and he’s already used up 2 of them. Last I read folklore said that a cat got only 9. With 7 remaining he better slow down and average one every second year otherwise he is going to be a very short-lived cat.
Yes I really need to have words with Gesso. If only I could sit down and explain it to him. Then I remember that he’s a cat. He doesn’t understand English – except for the words Breakfast, Dinner, Up, Off and his/her name. I doubt I can discuss his recklessness with that limited vocabulary. More so, because that’s what most cats know however Gesso, doesn’t know any of them due to his deafness.
His first life was expended on Christmas day 2011. He was only months old and his first life was whisked away from him. Andrew would say that he in part contributed; which I think is only fair. While he doesn’t understand ‘Get out’, ‘Not in the kitchen’, ‘Go’ or ‘Scoot’; he should by Christmas day have understood that the kitchen was a no go area as he frequently gets squirted with a water bottle upon entry. This may seem a little harsh but it is a matter of safety and not just for the cat. With knives and hot plates Andrew can’t afford to lose his balance in the kitchen. I think this is while the OT thinks he should stand in the kitchen. On the flip side, it’s a good place to stand. There’s a bench either side to grab for balance; standing means he can reach stuff out of the cupboards and there’s a bit of walking to be down; a few steps to the fridge, a few back to the sink etc.
Well, Gesso got under one of those feet. If had been my foot which landed on top of him, it would have immediately moved off it. Yet this was a case of the disabled human meets the disabled feline. Gesso couldn’t hear Andrew to get out of the way (although there’s nothing wrong with his vision the little bugger!) and Andrew’s feet don’t do ‘choppety-chop’ speed. Gesso bit Andrew quite hard resulting in a little trail of blood from the kitchen all the way back to the bedroom. While the little white fluffball was a little confused as to what just happened; he was ok.
His spent his second life the other night, again in the kitchen. Months later he still hasn’t figured out why he gets squirted, or he doesn’t care. Before I go on, let me assure all readers that following this incident Gesso is fine.
There was a pot of pasta and a second pot of pasta sauce on the front two burners of the stove. (Easier to reach from the front while in the wheelchair; they may not have been there had he been standing!) Neither of us was in the kitchen, we were both in the living room.
I saw a white fluffy object appear on the kitchen bench, go across in front of the pots and very quickly down the other side. Then I smelt something horrid. Burning hair. I scooped Gesso up to find little black dots down his front paws and on his chest. This was where the ends of his fur had been singed by either the gas or the hot metal of the pot. I threw him in the bathroom sink and turned on the running cold water. I figured that’s what humans do for burns so it should be ok for a cat.
Gesso was none to pleased in his demeanour about being put under the water however physically, tolerated it rather well. He didn’t scratch, just a lot of wriggling. I tried to check his paws but that was a little tough. After pulling him out of the sink, we were able to inspect and find that three ‘toes’ were decidedly pink. I put him back under the water. Having experienced it the first time, he was more cantankerous the second time and I struggled to keep his foot under the running water. By this time, Andrew was ready and waiting with a big towel. I handed him the sopping wet cat and he bundled it up. After a moment, he handed me ‘the baby’.
Following a rather crude drying method (fierce rubbing with the towel) I released Gesso to lick himself dry. (Typical batchelor flat: no hair dryer! Then again, I don’t have one at home either.)
So that was Gesso’s eighth life. I saw him the next day. He ran away from me.
I saw him the day after. He has developed a small blister on one paw however he’s eating an walking normally; although it’s obviously sore to the touch which I found out upon inspecting it.
For anyone who has been reading my blog for a while, I’ve just realised that you may think Gesso has used up 3 of his lives not just the 2 I’ve described here. I supposed the pink oil paint was dangerous had he had a chance to eat any of it off his paws before Andrew had bathed him. However, I’m hopeful that doesn’t count, for the little bugger only has 7 lives left and his not yet one year old.