A Raw Deal

Whenever someone touches my furry little pussy cats, I always hear the same thing, “Ooooh, they’re so soft!”  I am very proud of my Keetains’ coats.  Their fur feels silky, luxurious, shiny and expensive, which it is.  In addition, their teeth are white and free of plaque, and their eyes are bright.

When the person who mentions this happens to be a veterinarian, I smile and keep my mouth shut. 

The Plague! The Plague!

And lo, the angel of the Lord appeared unto Julia and said, “Hail Julie, full of grace, the Force is strong with thee.  Blemished art thou among kitties, and blemished is the Fruit of the Loom Lord Cheeses.  I bear unto thee bad tidings of great oy vey. . . for ye shall contract a virus, and it shall spread and be called feline viral rhinotracheitis, FVR for short.  It is also called feline herpes.”

I Heart My Veterinarian

As everyone knows, part of responsible pet ownership is making sure that our little charges' medical needs are met.  This means prompt visits to the veterinarian if there is any indication of an illness that won’t self-cure, as well as, one would hope, annual exams and regular dental care.  I have not a shred of loyalty when it comes to vets. 

The Secrete Life of Julia

WARNING:

If you are of a delicate sensibility and your gross-out threshold is lower than an Ewok at a limbo party, or if you happen to be eating right now, you might want to consider taking a pass on this post for the moment.  One goal of this blog is to shed light upon the fantastic mysteries of Keetain behavior.  Unfortunately, not all of what you read here will be pleasant or easy to stomach.

Brave you are?  Thirsty for knowledge you are?  Then at your own risk proceed.  Be warned, young Skywalker, reeks of TMI this topic does.

Today I will be discussing Julia’s anus.

Three Cats and . . . A BIRD??

Yes, yes, we know.  What does a girl do when she is delivered from crazy spinster catladydom only to find herself living with a parrot-toting bachelor?

Herd cats, of course.

Introduction

What the heck is a Keetain?

Well, it's a cat, m'kay?  The word just fell off my tongue, born of the bizarre, silly voice I -- along with millions of other pet owners -- use to communicate with our uncomprehending but nevertheless slightly embarrassed companion animals.  And often with our babies, though if we are truly conscientious parents we stop that at the age of 20 or so.  My "pet voice" is a cross between Alvin the Chipmunk and an Appalachian grandmother on Dexedrine.  So mah Keeeeetains they is, 'Tains for short.  This blog is intended for cat folk, although the conversation may drift to other species and phyla.  I hope to educate, amuse, or simply waste space on the interwebs. And I'll try to stay on topic.