I'm Sorry, I Have Kittage

By Susan Esther Barnes

“Having kittage” is something that I suspect every cat owner has experienced, although they may not have used this term. That’s because I coined it, but it hasn’t gotten much publicity yet.

Kittage happened to me again last night.

I was sitting in my chair at my computer, when Amber kitty jumped up into my lap and proceeded to take a nap. After a while, I got hungry and wanted to get a snack, but I didn’t want to disturb the cat. In a word, I had kittage.

It’s a word we’ve been using around my home for a number of years now. It is much more economical, word-count-wise, than saying, “I have a cat on my lap,” or “I don’t want to bother the cat.”

Instead, when the phone rings and my husband says, “Will you get that?” I can simply say, “I’m sorry, I have kittage.” This works for answering the door, getting him a beverage, turning on the thermostat, etc. The uses of this term may seem endless.

Except, as I discovered last night, “Honey, will you get me a snack? I can’t get it myself because I have kittage” didn’t seem to work. Instead, I discovered a new phrase: The kittage diet plan.

Surprises Come in Threes

By Susan Esther Barnes

It's been a month of surprises.

First it was Thomas-kitty, poor thing, who had to take two trips to the vet. Both of our cats get pretty freaked out at the vet, and who can blame them? They get shoved in a box, take a car ride, during which Thomas gets car sick, then some stanger pokes & prods them and sticks a needle into them.

So Thomas, who at home assumes every human who walks through the front door must be there to pet him, hisses and spits at the vet staff. They are very nice people, and they try to pet him and make friends before they do whatever they have to do, but both our cats have large, clear warning labels on their file to tell the staff to watch out.

One time after we boarded the cats there, the summary from the staff said of Thomas' sister, "We tried every day to pet Amber, but she let us know that if we tried to touch her there would be a fight, and she made it quite clear who would win."

So, after eight years of the vet staff unsuccessfully trying to make nice with Thomas, on his last visit they determined they couldn't get him to stay still enough for the x-ray he needed, and they had to muzzle him.



Lo and behold, as soon as the muzzle was on, Thomas relaxed. Note in this picture how his ears are up, not flat back as they would be if he were scared. Note how relaxed his right paw is. He is not using it to try to push himself away. In fact, the staff says he was purring. They were so amazed, they took this picture. To paraphrase an old saying, blind cat finds a bone. Go figure.

The second surprise was on Monday this week when I found out that the husband of someone I know had hit her so badly she had to spend a couple of days in the hospital. Sure, it's something you hear about, but it's completely different when it happens to someone you know.

Of course she feels embarrassed about it, and of course she has absolutely nothing to be embarrased about. She says he has yelled at her before, but this is the first time he's hit her. The only good thing about it is it looks like it'll be the last time. There's a restraining order against him and she acknowledges the marriage is over.

The third surprise is my oldest niece started a blog. Pretty cool, huh?

Homing Pigeon

By Susan Esther Barnes

This morning, as I was getting ready for work, I could feel that my blood pressure was significantly higher than normal. I know high blood pressure is called the “silent killer” because most people can’t feel it, but I can. One day I expect to write a post about how feeling God’s presence is like feeling your blood pressure. You can learn to sense it once you discover what to pay attention to.

I took one of my cats to the vet last week because of an inconvenient but non-emergency issue that arose. They did an exam and sent some samples to the lab. Today, I had to take him back so they could do some more lab work and take an X-ray. I’m worried about the cat.

Also, Thursday before last, I went to seek some medical advice for myself due to something unusual I noticed, and I ended up getting an unscheduled mammogram. At first the nurse practitioner said she’d call me that afternoon with the results. Then, after the mammogram lady looked at that day’s images, she said they were going to order copies of the images from my mammogram from last year to compare, and it would take three or four days before they got back to me.

After a week I still hadn’t heard anything, so I sent an email asking what was up (I made the appointment online so I didn’t have the phone number). The next day I got an email back saying they don’t know, but they’d call me back that afternoon. Monday I sent another email. As of Monday night I still hadn’t heard anything. So, yeah, my blood pressure was high.

This morning I was in the car, driving the vociferously unhappy cat to the vet, knowing he’s got something wrong with him but not being sure whether or not they’ll have an effective way to treat it, while at the same time wondering whether I have breast cancer, and whether the delay in getting the results to me is giving it extra time to grow and/or spread. I know I tend to over-react to this sort of thing, but that’s where my head was.

I exited the freeway, and suddenly realized I had gone one exit too far, mistakenly taking the exit to the synagogue, not the exit for the vet. Even with the cat crying in his carrier in the seat beside me, like a homing pigeon I had subconsciously headed to a place of comfort rather than my intended destination.

I very much wanted to drive to the synagogue and go sit in the quiet sanctuary, soaking up God’s presence and the serenity and strength of community permeating that special room. Just ten or fifteen minutes could have done wonders.

I’m pretty sure the cat wouldn’t have appreciated that, though, so I turned left and headed down the road to the vet. I then turned on some cheery music in the car as I drove to work, where I settled in to wait for results for both of us.

Then I decided, “screw that,” and I dug around online until I found a phone number for the medical office I’d been to and I talked to a nurse, who looked at my results. She said the mammogram looked "pretty normal" and they recommend a regularly scheduled follow-up mammogram in two years, which is what I believe they recommend for every woman my age. She says they mailed me a letter with the good news yesterday.

I’m still going to take those ten or fifteen minutes in the sanctuary later on this week, though. As a wise person once said, if you only hang out with God when you’re worried about something or want something, what kind of relationship is that? Certainly not one fit for a homing pigeon.