Tasha's Tail

Aerie made a scrapbook a couple of years ago of all our cats. Along with the pictures, she wrote each of their stories. There was "Sampson's Story," "Harley's Hisstory," "Tasha's Tail," and "Puck's Profile." Tasha's Tail ended this morning, probably from damage to her organs caused by the Metacam she was prescribed for pain from her torn knee ligament. The emergency vet on Sunday hypothesized that her lethargy and refusal to eat were due to ulcerations in her G.I. track from the Metacam. Yesterday, we gave her the medicines prescribed and force-fed her a soft meat paste with a syringe. By last night, she still hadn't perked up, so we planned on taking her to our regular vet again this morning. But she didn't make it that long.

So rather than dwell on all that, here's Tasha's Tail. I'm sorry in the end you knew hunger again, little girl.

Tasha's Tail

Gender: Female

Breed: Domestic Short Hair

Markings: Torti

DOB: 02/01/1999

Weight: 12 pounds

Likes: Kit-n-Kaboodle (aka PIECES!), being told how pretty I am, bread and butter, being told how pretty I am, back scratches and being brushed, being told how pretty I am, people, kitty greens, sitting on laps

Dislikes: The ironing board, having my toenails clipped, my brother Puck, being disrespected (it happens all the time, I swear!)

Hobbies: Keeping an eye on Puck to make sure he doesn't have any fun, grooming, playing with Ducky, stealing things off the table, tripping Momma and Daddy

Momma and Daddy took me home from the Town Lake Animal Shelter. I was happy that the shelter took me in because it was tough on the street. I’d recently given birth to a litter of kittens and I don’t remember what happened to them. I was malnourished and weighed barely 6 pounds (I’ve since been able to reach a beautiful, shapely 12 pounds and plan to never know hunger again).

At the shelter, they were calling me Pompei, which sounds like some foreign city. I quickly informed my new staff that my name was Natasha. They call me Tasha, which is fine. Some of the other nick-names are not so okay (like Tubby), but it’s so hard to find good, respectful staff these days. Don’t get me wrong, I love Momma and Daddy, but I just don’t always get the respect I deserve. Don’t they realize that cats were once worshipped? Momma tries to tell me that she is the queen in the house, which is why I have trouble respecting her. I love her a lot, but she’s not that bright. She brought that Puck into our lives and refuses to get rid of him! Now, Daddy has more sense than that. I have to respect him, so I won’t swat at him or hiss when he makes me mad.

I like people better than other cats because I’m clearly superior to other cats and much more beautiful. Harley was an okay brother and I do miss him. We got along pretty well and I had to respect him because he was already living with Momma and Daddy when I moved in. Puck is a different story, though. I’ll never understand why Momma invited him in. He’s such a brat! He doesn’t respect my authority.

Being this beautiful is a difficult and stressful life. There’s the constant grooming and unladylike hairballs. But, it’s all worth it. It’s not easy managing this household. I have to keep a constant watch on Puck and am always having to remind the staff when it’s time to be fed. They are sometimes late returning from their day of frolicking and you can almost see the bottom of the food bowls! Humans. *sigh*

I’m Tasha. Admire me.