Caroler Survives Cat Attack

I have once again been defeated by the Alzheimer's Care Cat.

Bobbi the cat is a wonderful pet for mom, but she is very much a one person cat. It doesn't matter that I feed her and brush her; she does not like me. And she doesn't seem to notice that it is I, not my mother, who sifts through her box each day with a specially designed slotted scoop. This protects her dainty paws from coming into contact with the lumps in her self-clumping cat litter which, by the way, costs a lot more than the other kind. I know, because I am the one who buys the stuff. But the cat does not appreciate me.

While Bobbi makes it clear that she loves my mother best of all, her affection does not translate to obedience. She shows typical feline disdain for any request my mother makes of her as in, "Kitty, don't eat the poinsettia." Bobbi eats the poinsettia anyway which hasn't harmed her yet, although there have been a few more clumps to sift each morning since the poinsettia arrived.

Another area of Bobbi's rebellion has to do with Mother's blue china carolers. They are a little boy and girl, each about 18 inches tall and cunningly painted in shades of blue with white cotton pompoms atop of their blue china hats. They stand next to a lamp post, mouths open in perfect o's, songbooks held aloft. Mother loves them.

The problem is that Bobbi cannot abide seeing the blue china carolers standing upright. She waits until Mom goes to bed and then knocks them over like bowling pins. We have a baby monitor in Mom's room with the receiver in our bedroom so that if Mom calls for us in the night we can respond immediately. Each evening of late I have heard Mom's voice over the monitor saying, "Kitty, stop that." This reprimand is inevitably followed by a loud crash with Mother's final, futile cry of, "KITTY, STOP THAT" echoing in the background. Each morning I've set the carolers back into place because Mom hasn't been able to bear the thought of parting with them. I have been trying them in different locations on the floor in order to protect them from falling from a height when Bobbi knocks them over.

Tonight Mom shouted at the cat and then I heard her calling my name in panicked tones. I ran to her room, flung open the door and saw the cat dragging the blue china boy away by the pompom of his hat. She looked uncannily like a mountain lion with its prey as she slunk furtively toward the closet where her food and water are kept, dragging the unfortunate singer to her lair.

I rescued the caroler gingerly--although Bobbi has been declawed her teeth are fully functional and she did not want to give up her conquest. Mom sadly admitted that the carolers were no longer safe in her apartment and now they are gracing my dining room table. The pompom on the boy caroler's hat is about triple the size it was initially, but other than that the blue china carolers have escaped without harm the trauma of being at Bobbi's mercy.