Dear Florence

Dear Florence,

My neighbor, Shannon, has asked me to watch her cat while she’s away. I’m not a cat person. Not really. I don’t know how to handle them, and the guys are laughing at me. Also, I’m not sure I can take care of Tigress. I’ve seen her prance across my yard as if she owns the place. That sort of behavior seems off-putting. Possibly triggering. You see, I have this thing about controlling my space. Last week, Tigress chased a lovely pair of goldfinches. Normal cat behavior, right? Except I was lying on the ground a scant two yards away, desperately trying to frame my shot. It had taken me an hour of coaxing to get the birds close enough. I mean, birdseed everywhere. I’m still washing it from my hair! Then poof, fangs, feathers, and an empty frame. It didn’t help Tigress dumped one of the poor birds on my doorstep later in the day.

~Flummoxed in Phoenix

Dear Phoenix,

Tighten that belt a notch and answer the call! It sounds to me like your neighbor’s cat is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. I would wager Shannon is only interested in making sure Tigress has water, food, and a clean litter box. Who knows, Tigress may be a way for you to get to know your neighbor and exchange cookie recipes. And that dead bird? She likes you. So buck up, Tiger, and give Shannon a hand.

~Florence

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Dear Flo,

Can cats really talk to people? The other night, at my buddy’s bachelor party, I had a weird encounter with his cat, Rusty. Rusty normally ignores me. He generally curls into an orange ball and basks in sunlight for hours on end. Humanity isn’t on his list of interactive venues. Last night, after midnight, he was different. We spent hours under the kitchen table playing floor hockey and talking. I’ve never known cats to be such voracious conversationalists. I don’t know. It all seems a little disjointed. Could have been the whiskey.

~Hungover in the Hamptons

Dear Hung

Cats don’t vocally communicate with each other (outside of hissing or growling). They do vocalize as a way of communicating with humans. They even use varying sounds to indicate what they want; a certain sound for food, another for going outside. It’s quite sophisticated. You almost have to wonder sometimes who is controlling whom. I would say you won a friend the other night, and anytime you stop by, your new four-footed pal is going to want to spend time with you. Way to go!

~Florence (or Floss, never Flo)

(PS: Back off the sauce. Try some cookies.)

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Dear Floss,

I can relate to Phoenix. I housesat for a friend last weekend. I don’t think I managed very well. Don’t get me wrong, the house is fine, the cat is fine. I am fine. Mostly. Thing is, I woke up in the middle of the night and the cat was sitting on my chest. On top of the sheet, on my chest. Worse, my arms were by my side under the sheet. I couldn’t do anything. He just sat there—on my chest—and stared into my eyes. Every time I blinked I could feel his toes curl. Sometimes I felt his claws!

I’d watched Pounce chase a feather while I played with him earlier in the day, and I knew how quick he was. I had no shot of shooing him away before he was on my face like the crazy alien in that sci-fi flick. I was terrified. When he finally moved, my heart leaped, but, never breaking eye contact, he just walked off my chest, around my head, and stood on the pillow behind me. From there, he continued to stare into my eyes. I spent the rest of the night on the floor by the sliding doors staring through the glass and rocking while the cat slept on the bed.

~Intimidated in Ithaca

Dear Ithica,                                                                   

Cats can be very territorial creatures. Even though you seem to have bonded earlier in the day, you probably slept on the side of the bed Pounce prefers. Some animals caterwaul all night long to get their silly humans to understand and take care of them. You should count yourself fortunate Pounce respected your quiet time enough to seek a more audibly-appropriate means of communication. Next time, sleep on the couch or bring a sleeping bag and a sleeve of Thin Mints. Remember, you’re the guest.

~Floss

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Dear Florence,

Hi, Florence, my husband came home from work the other day with a kitten. A kitten! I’ve never raised a cat in my life. It’s foreign. We’ve been married for less than three months, and he just springs this on me like he’s giving me a weather forecast. And let me tell you about my little four-footed friend, Buster. He races into the kitchen every night when I’m doing dishes and climbs up my leg, up my back, and then drapes himself around my neck to watch me splash around in the water. I mean, I like the neck warmer, and he’s soft and furry and super adorable, but I bleed every time his little claws dig in. How can I stop being run over by the men in my life?

Haggard in Heathsville,

Dear Haggard,

Isn’t he just the best! (Buster, I mean. I’ll get to your husband in a minute.) I am so jealous of you and the bond you have with your little ball of fluff. Cats can be ridiculously affectionate, and they own their space. Sounds to me like the little guy has gone all to pieces over you. Good for you! Now, hubby, on the other hand, can’t be making life commitments that require your sacrifice without your input. Time to invite him into the kitchen to be part of the family. Find your favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe and put him to work. The family that bakes together eats cookies together. And what can be better than dunking fresh cookies into a glass of milk and then sharing the milk with Buster? All of you get something out of the deal. That’s family.

~Florence

(PS: Kitty-daddy does his own dishes, too!)

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Dear Florence,

I can so relate to Ithaca! My cat, Tigress, just stares at me. I feel like we’ve lost our bond. I just get these overlarge eyes hyper-focused on everything I do. All the time! If I move suddenly, she attacks me. When I walk by the couch, she races out and sinks all her claws into my leg, and hangs there, chewing on my jeans. And if I’m in shorts or a skirt? Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat that hurts. I don’t know what to do with her. I think she likes me; she’s always bringing home little critters she’s killed and leaving them for me on the doorstep. Once, she brought one into the house, which seemed to revive the poor thing. Oh, what fun that was! Cat and chipmunk dashing about. Ah, the memories. I just can’t figure her out, Ms. Florence. My boyfriend wants to put her down, but I just can’t. She was fine before he moved in. We’re going away for the weekend, and Tigress will be in the care of my neighbor. He doesn’t like cats either, but he isn’t a murderer.

~Flabbergasted in Phoenix

Hey Phoe,

First off, all those gifts from Tigress? She loves you. You’re her kinda’ gal, but Mr. Man-town? Sounds like you have a classic case of envy on your hands. Your cat is telling you something about that other human in your life. Maybe you should try to spend a little more time with Tigress and ask your boyo to take the weekend off. Anybody who passes out ultimatums that include death is a little cold-hearted anyway. Make some cookies, invite your neighbor over, and see if he can be coerced into friend status with Tigress. Who knows, maybe he makes cookies too. Won’t that make Christmas fun?

~Florence

(PS. I think she already likes him. See my column from last week.)

Remember, folks; pets help us cope with our everyday world. Sometimes, in our hyper-connected, electronic lives, we forget about the joys of companionship and unconditional love our furry friends bring. Nothing like the raucous purring of your feline to let you know the schmuck at work is an unconscionable jerk, and you are approaching god status. Grab a plate of shortbread and a cup of cocoa. Everything will be better afterward.

~Love Always,

Florence.