Our Journey Raising Two Children with Special Needs
This blog chronicles our life raising two children, Nicholas 15, diagnosed with Prader-Willi Syndrome and Weston 18, diagnosed with Autism/Asperger's/ADHD. It's the ups, the downs, the joys, the sorrows and most importantly, the beauty of living a life less perfect, a life more meaningful.
Friday, February 11, 2011
The Cat Who Thinks He's a Dog
He is 14-years-old which translates into about 75 in kitty years. He has been a part of this family even before the kids were born.
I am concerned because lately he is acting an awful lot like a dog. I think he is confused. I do not know if cats suffer from "kitty dementia," but I think Bandit might have acquired something like it.
Let me explain:
1) He comes when he is called.
That's right, all I have to do is say, "Here kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty!" and no matter where Bandit is leisurely relaxing in the house, he jumps up immediately and bolts over to my ankles where he will weave in and out between my feet as if he were skiing the giant slalom.
2) He waits at the door for me when I arrive home.
No matter how long I am gone from the house, when I arrive home he is waiting for me at the door. Like a faithful dog waiting for his master, Bandit sits obediently by the door, wagging his tail I do believe.
3) He begs for table scraps at dinnertime.
4) He has calm and assertively declared himself "Master of the House."
With one lightening fast swipe of his paw, he has sent Muffy howling into her crate, declaring himself the unconditional dominant male of the household.
Lately, he has even become somewhat of a bully. I have found myself actually scolding the cat for terrorizing our now neurotic dog. His latest escapade is planning a clever "surprise attack" on Muffy. He waits patiently behind a corner and then boldly sneaks out "aaaaahaaaaaaa" pouncing aggressively on our poor, anxious Beagle who howls "aaaaoooooooo" in a high pitched panicked cry as she runs once again to the safety of her crate.
The little bugger has even planned a surprise attack on me a few times. He hides covertly at the top of the stairs silently waiting for me to climb them. He then sticks his paws between the rails on the upper landing, hoping to swipe at my hair as I climb quickly past.
I do not know if it is his age or the many years he spent as the unwilling participant of boyhood antics, but whatever the reason, Bandit has found his courage and has become more like a dog. He is indeed his alter ego of "kitty pit bull" and without a doubt, the new "Master of the House."
Now, if he starts barking, I am definitely taking him for a visit to the vet!