Yesterday, I took the cats to the vet in the middle of the night. Actually, it was seven-fifteen but when one is retired, one forgets anything happens that early. They went in to get their teeth cleaned and have a locating chip implanted. Because this is done under anesthesia–who’d want to clean the tiny but sharp teeth of an awake cat?–the kitties couldn’t eat after midnight. And their not eating wasn’t really NPO–they had a bowl of water–but really fasting. They did not like this whatever I called it because THE FOOD BOWL WAS GONE!
When the veterinarian said a year ago that Scooter was getting fat and I should take his food away at night and not allow him to graze, I thought, “Has she ever had a cat?” Oh, she’s a wonderful doctor but if Mr. Scootter, who considers himself the king of the word, doesn’t have food at night, he makes sure no one (meaning ME) has a minute of sleep. So, normally, I feed the cats in the evening and take the bowl away in the afternoon. But last night after I took away the food bowl, the entire night was motion and noise–nudge, nudge, nudge–purr, cuddle, cuddle, and ME-OW! Finally in what I could tell was deep frustration, he placed his soft little paw on my cheek, stared mounrfully into my puffy, blood-shot eyes and said, “Why are you starving the Scooter?”
Because I foresaw this problem, yesterday after dinner I explained to Maggie and Scooter that they wouldn’t have food after midnight. They didn’t listen and they don’t have watches. I know they didn’t listen because they never do and because Scooter ignored all the explanations I reminded him about after every one of the fifty times he woke me up. Now Maggie may be hungry but she allows Scooter to approach me about that prolblem. She saves all her nagging for telling where I should sit so I can scratch her tummy.
No, cat do not understand NPO but they are so worth a little lack of sleep. They’d just better leave me alone tonight.