OUR FOUR-LEGGED FRIENDS

The Vet at Your Door (“Veterinarian House Call Services") recently arrived at my friend Sandy Jane’s house for her cat’s yearly checkup. (“It was so less stressful for Stella than going to the vet’s office,” Sandy said.)

My friend John Loewenberg never leaves home without activating the “PetCam” on his iPhone so that he can watch his two puppies, Popcorn and PuffPuff, romping around the house. 

Fluffhead, my son Chris’ cat, sips water from an electric fountain that gurgles and bubbles all day long. Last summer, my friend Ellen Fagan’s Grand-Dog had a knee replacement. 

My hairdresser Stuart’s dog Ashton wolfs down a Vanilla Sundae from DQ after his monthly bubble bath in Portland. (“It’s his reward,” Stu says.) My sister’s dog Bueller (approximately the size of a Volkswagen Beetle) gets bathed in a spacious, heated and well-lit cargo van (“Home Grooming for Doggies”) that arrives in her driveway every couple of months. Two uniformed attendants finish Bueller’s hour-long toilette by drying him off gently with electric hair dryers “so he doesn’t catch cold.”

Our four-legged furry friends are livin’ la vida loca. Oh yeah.

Mr. Wonderful and I were pet-less for seven years. After our beloved cat Molly died at age 18, we went into a long mourning. Apparently, lots had developed in the pet world during our hiatus which we quickly discovered after adopting a seven-year-old shelter cat whose grey stripes reminded us of Molly. We named our little girl Sunshine and she’s been happily teaching us how cats live.

“I had been told that the training procedure with cats was

difficult. It’s not. Mine had me trained in two days.”

(Robert Byrne)

Take Sunshine’s diet. She breakfasts on Rachel Ray’s Chicken Purrcata.  (For the record, I use Rachel Ray’s cookbook to make Apple-Onion Pork Chops for Mr. W.) At lunch, she nibbles on Fancy Feast Filet Mignon kibble flavored with Real Seafood & Shrimp. For supper, she cleans her plate, a  Fussie Cat entree of Tuna With Salmon.

 Honestly? I feel like I’m running a feline catering service here, and I spend mucho tiempo fervently hoping my client will approve the suggested menu for her three-squares.

“When Rome burned, the emperor’s cats still

expected to be fed on time.”

(Bill Dana)

Consider Sunshine’s bed. (Make that: bedS.) Shortly before she arrived, I ordered a lambs-wool-lined round cushioned pillow bed. (My God, it looked so inviting, I wanted to take a nap in it). Once she recovered from the trauma of leaving a Florida animal shelter, flying north in a plane filled with barking dogs and meowing kitties, then being deposited here in the strange Wells woods where there are no palm trees, she now spends half the day lolling in that comfy bed.

Or on the ecru Sherrill living room couches, in Mr. W’s cushioned office chair, on our California king or in a cozy cubby in the walk-in closet. Sometimes she snoozes on the rocker in the TV room. But mostly she enjoys her “boat,” the comfy lambs-wood-lined bed that I put in front of the fireplace. (Yes, we keep the gas fireplace burning hours a day because “she likes it.” )

“There is, incidentally, no way of talking about cats that enables one

to come off as a sane person.”

(Dan Greenberg)

Sunshine is not just a pet. She is a thriving member of our family who purrs when she’s happy, meows when she’s not, and greets us at the door when we get home. I fully expect to get her Christmas Wish List any day now. 

Whatever she wants…..