Dave the cat (aka George) had one of those days yesterday. He is obviously feeling stronger and more confident because I spent most of the day following him around and putting right things he had done wrong. I was a bit concerned about him during the morning because his poor ulcerated paw was swollen and bleeding, he doesn't like having it bathed, but he grooms himself and licks his paws now. I knew he was due at the vet on today otherwise I would have asked to see the vet yesterday. Dave kept licking his foot and every time he walked around he left blood stained footprints - thank goodness for laminate floors and leather furniture!
His appetite was undiminished and he ate a hearty breakfast, first licked his own bowl clean, then licked Oreo and Meg's bowls until they shone (it makes the washing up much easier!). Just for good measure he then checked around Meg's mouth for any debris - it didn't take him long to work out that she is a messy eater. The others wandered off to have a rest, but after only a few minutes I found Dave on the kitchen work top looking for food, he was disappointed and after a stern telling of he plodded away looking very hard done by. When I had finished cleaning the worktop I went upstairs to get on with some work, but when I came down again I found Dave in the kitchen bin rooting around, I don't know how he took the lid off but as they say 'where there's a will there's a way'. I had a meaningful chat with Dave and then set about clearing up.
Oreo was in a mischievous mood after his ordeal at the vet and he decided to torment Dave at every opportunity. Dave may lack teeth but he doesn't lack authority, at first he just swore menacingly but Oreo is a slow learner and he had several spats with Dave before he got the message and left him in peace. By this time Dave was feeling rather cross with the world in general so he went into the kitchen and stole a sausage; once he was certain he had killed it, he hid in the corner and savaged it with his gums until he had eaten every bit. He decided to quit while he was winning and he made himself scarce while I cleaned up. Unfortunately that wasn't the end of his misdemeanours, I found him in the evening asleep on our bed! I pointed him in the direction of his own bed, stripped our bed and carried the washing down to the washing machine. A little later Robbie headed up to make the bed, he didn't come back and eventually I went to look for him. I found him in a heap on the bed snoring steadily with the clean sheets, still in a neat pile at the side of him!
This morning Dave went to see the vet, who agreed that one of his feet wasn't looking too good. He bathed both back feet and pulled all the crusty matter of them. Dave swore profoundly and attempted to bite me, but the vet got the necessary work done without too much trouble. He has put Dave on a higher dose of tablets to give his feet a better chance to recover. Dave doesn't mind because he takes his tablets with a couple of spoonfuls of tuna - he adores tuna.
So now the answer to the question that everyone keeps asking, why is the cat called Dave? The children named him after my stepdad David who is a very special and much loved grandad - and just like the cat he lacks teeth! David was in the marines and the special boat service years ago, and even at 78 with two artificial hips he is very brave and determined. The children have always loved to hear about some of the scrapes he was involved in. Dave the cat looks as if he has been involved in a few scrapes of his own and despite his sore feet he is still fiercely determined. I am not sure what Grandad thinks about having a cat named after him, but the children think of it as a good strong name.
His appetite was undiminished and he ate a hearty breakfast, first licked his own bowl clean, then licked Oreo and Meg's bowls until they shone (it makes the washing up much easier!). Just for good measure he then checked around Meg's mouth for any debris - it didn't take him long to work out that she is a messy eater. The others wandered off to have a rest, but after only a few minutes I found Dave on the kitchen work top looking for food, he was disappointed and after a stern telling of he plodded away looking very hard done by. When I had finished cleaning the worktop I went upstairs to get on with some work, but when I came down again I found Dave in the kitchen bin rooting around, I don't know how he took the lid off but as they say 'where there's a will there's a way'. I had a meaningful chat with Dave and then set about clearing up.
Oreo was in a mischievous mood after his ordeal at the vet and he decided to torment Dave at every opportunity. Dave may lack teeth but he doesn't lack authority, at first he just swore menacingly but Oreo is a slow learner and he had several spats with Dave before he got the message and left him in peace. By this time Dave was feeling rather cross with the world in general so he went into the kitchen and stole a sausage; once he was certain he had killed it, he hid in the corner and savaged it with his gums until he had eaten every bit. He decided to quit while he was winning and he made himself scarce while I cleaned up. Unfortunately that wasn't the end of his misdemeanours, I found him in the evening asleep on our bed! I pointed him in the direction of his own bed, stripped our bed and carried the washing down to the washing machine. A little later Robbie headed up to make the bed, he didn't come back and eventually I went to look for him. I found him in a heap on the bed snoring steadily with the clean sheets, still in a neat pile at the side of him!
This morning Dave went to see the vet, who agreed that one of his feet wasn't looking too good. He bathed both back feet and pulled all the crusty matter of them. Dave swore profoundly and attempted to bite me, but the vet got the necessary work done without too much trouble. He has put Dave on a higher dose of tablets to give his feet a better chance to recover. Dave doesn't mind because he takes his tablets with a couple of spoonfuls of tuna - he adores tuna.
So now the answer to the question that everyone keeps asking, why is the cat called Dave? The children named him after my stepdad David who is a very special and much loved grandad - and just like the cat he lacks teeth! David was in the marines and the special boat service years ago, and even at 78 with two artificial hips he is very brave and determined. The children have always loved to hear about some of the scrapes he was involved in. Dave the cat looks as if he has been involved in a few scrapes of his own and despite his sore feet he is still fiercely determined. I am not sure what Grandad thinks about having a cat named after him, but the children think of it as a good strong name.
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