I had a bit of a moment last week where I started to worry for my sanity. A moment where I realised I really have become a crazy cat lady.
‘Are you actually even okay?’ Bee asked me tactfully, when she came over for tea on Friday night. I was explaining how I’d been combing vanilla powder onto the kittens.
‘It’s a HACK!’ I said, with a slight hysterical edge. ‘I saw it on the INTERNET!’
Let me explain.
As you know, a few weeks ago we brought home three rescue kittens. They have full detective names, but they are Camille, Endeavour and Humphrey for short.
One of my very favourite things about them is how much they love each other, even though two are brother and sister and one of them is just a random that happened to be in the room when we went to visit the rehoming centre. They sleep in big fluffy piles and purr when they see each other and lick each other’s face and I LOVE IT.
Until last Thursday.
Last Thursday Camille got spayed and when she came home from the vet, smelling of operations and wearing the cone of shame, Endeavour and Humphrey were sceptical to say the least.
To begin with they were just wary, but then it turned into outright hostility. Every time Camille tried to go near them for a bit of affection they would get their bodies low to the ground and hiss or growl at her. Endeavour straight up punched her on the nose at one point. If a cat CAN punch. Perhaps it was more of a swat.
Camille would then hang her little cone head in shame and sadness and slope away.
It was VERY SAD INDEED.
Everyone I spoke to seemed very casual about it. ‘Oh yeah,’ they’d say, ‘I bet she smells different, they’ll be back to normal soon.’
But in my crazy cat lady head all I could think was ‘they are going to hate Camille forever and ever and she will be sad ALWAYS and it will be my fault for taking her to the vet!’
Quite often when I looked at her I cried. It was not really a proportionate reaction.
And hence the vanilla.
I did some research and discovered that putting vanilla on all of them could help them to smell alike and make them less aggressive. I also gave her a wipe with a warm cloth, which I carefully tried to get at roughly the same temperature as her tongue. I combed them and stroked them and at one point I rubbed cat biscuits on her back.
That was when I knew for sure I was a CRAZY CAT LADY.
Of course we went to the vet for a check up on Saturday and they said she could take off the cone, and after she’d had a good wash they all seemed much happier again and all the hissing and growling was forgotten, but I KNOW now. I KNOW that I have a crazy cat lady lurking within me waiting to bust out the vanilla essence at a moment’s notice.