A BONE TO PICK

Before Mom settles down to write her new post, I wanted to let everyone know how I feel about all the attention my sister Annie gets because she's got all these medical problems.

Don't get me wrong, Mom and Artie treat me very well. When Louie and his family moved away I made the rounds of the neighborhood to scope out new food opportunities. When I saw Mom or Artie serving dinner every day, their front porch became the go to place for a good solid meal. Never in my wildest dreams did I think they'd take me in or give me a permanent home.

I knew about the dog; heard her barking all the time; could see her from the window. Boy was I scared of her! All that racket and bouncing around; I'd had my full of that just navigating the streets every day. My number one priority was to make her the lowest member of this new clowder I was picked to join. It didn't work. Mom doesn't put up with my jockeying for position; she defends Annie every time.

Right after my rescue from a life on the streets, Annie had cancer surgery. Mom and Artie ran around cooking, feeding, changing dressings, checking the incision and dispensing medicines. Yours truly got breakfast and dinner and not much else.

No sooner did that drama end when the next one started. The house was in an uproar because everyone thought I hit Annie in her eye injuring her. She was blinking, holding her eye shut and the white of her eye was red and tearing. I told them it wasn't me but I guess they don't understand cat talk. Off they all went to emergency leaving me alone for hours. That was OK; for once the house was quiet. They found out I didn't touch her but she had eye problems so now it was eye surgery, eye drops, medicines along with six months' regular doctor visits.

Right on the heels of that drama winding down (either my heels or Annie's - take your pick) Annie became fussy about eating finally stopping almost completely. Mom would chase me away from her dish; she didn't realize I was just interested in smelling it. I'd never eat that stuff Mom cooks in a million years!

Back to the doctor to find out what was wrong now. The new diagnosis? Tooth problems and yet another surgery entailing two extractions, cutting off excess gum and repairing the gum over a tooth. Mom spent more time dispensing pills, feeding by hand or spoon. Things are quieting down again but who knows what will happen next.

I don't like being number four in my family's hierarchy but I'm learning to live with it; it's not such a bad deal after all. I've learned to share the bed and chairs with Annie but the ladder-back chair by the window is mine exclusively - so is Mom's lap when she sits in the recliner and Artie's lap at bed time.

Thanks for listening to me gripe!

Resting with my blankets on Mom's bed.