Russell Roars

I haven't been holding true to my statement header that I will be tackling a different topic for every day of the week. Well, it's Monday and NYC and the tri state area is pretty landlocked by the last blizzard of '10, so let's just say I have a little time.

My Monday posts are to revolve around Russell, our cat since July 1999. He came with his "brother" Oscar, an orange cat that we adored and who died in 2007 from cancer. Russell is a black and white nervous cat who has become much more active in the household since Oscar's departure. Still rather skinny, he at least can eat freely now without Oscar batting him away and hogging the food. 

Russell - as did Oscar - has a personality. He is stubborn. If he wants to sit by you, he will whether you like it or not. I don't mind him sitting by me unless I'm on my laptop as I am now and he wants to "dominate" it. He's also found his voice, but not in a healthy way. Two summers ago, my older daughter thought he might have fleas, so I went to the pet store across the street for a flea collar and the owner's teenage son was tending the register. He told me if my cat already had fleas a collar wouldn't help, so I asked him for a good flea medicine and he gave me a cream, instructing me to run the tube from Russell's nape of his neck down to the tip of his tail.

And I did.

Russell proceeded to turn and lick the cream off his lower back, immediately turning wild eyed and hissing at us (primarily my daughter).  I found the telephone number on the carton of cream and called the company. A very nice woman talked to us and gasped when I relayed what I had done. "Oh no!" she exclaimed. "Just at the nape of the neck! Give him a bath right now and get it all off!" I did, my daughter and I pulling him out from under the bed, him hissing hysterically at her. Once it was over, he retreated back under the bed, and we waited the explained 24 hours to observe his recovery.

Finally, he emerged and became Russell again, but the use of his voice has stayed the same. He gives a low, guttural meow that sounds more like "owwwwww" followed by an even lower "raaaaaaaw," His acid trip voice has now meshed with his personality, and if I don't want him batting his head into my laptop, once I direct him off the couch, he leaves, yet staring at me with a slew of what must be curse words:

"Owwwwwwww, raaaaw, uhrumpf, growwwwl, raaawww, %$#&!"

 Don't let your cats do drugs.

The pet store owner readily gave me my money back for the crazy cream, his eyes wide over the reality that his son could convey such improper information.

Russell never had fleas.