Cat Forensics

Yeah, it’s not pretty but it happens.

I have cats. They vomit.

Yeah, bleah.

Three cats live with me. Two others that belong to neighbors make my house their de facto home.

Five cats. Each display distinctive traits and personalities in everything. Eating, of course. Quinn is finicky. So is Meep. Meep will just sigh (so it seems) and shake his head in disappointment and disapproval (so it seems) and leave it, but Quinn will back away and stare with brooding sadness that this food is so terrible, and then turn and state his displeasure by pretending to cover it, like its feces he’s found. Although he will return a little later and eat it, after the initial dejection faded. It’s usually less than ten minutes.

Boo will eat anything but likes to take it out of the bowl to consume it. Tucker likes having the food presented to him and follows a ritual leading up to the moment, and then he wolfs it down with intent focus. Pepper eats anything, usually licking the bowl clean. She’s like Mikey, from the old Life cereal commercials. YouTube it if you don’t know the reference.

Meep, the neighbor’s cat, brought in for weather protection during the heavy snowstorms last year (because he’s not permitted in their house…WTF…), has a weak, high-pitched broken meow. It sounds like a stretched meep. (Yes, that’s how he came by his name. We’re not real original feline namers.) Quinn is a cat whisperer, whose soft noises often sound like wounded coos. Tucker, probably owing to his rough history (we assume it was rough from his state of health when he found us), has an old man’s husky baritone, “Mrere-oww,”  even though he doesn’t seem that old. Boo Radley’s meow is a straightforward and honest, “Meow,” as matter of fact and no-nonsense as him.

Miss Pepper, who lives next house over but sleeps on our porch and begs us for food, is a beautiful black and brown long-haired calico with a Queen’s demanding, insistent, sharply ruling, “Meow.” It’s LOUD, like ROCK CONCERT LOUD. Her meow can be quickly strident, startling all, including the other cats, who keep away from Her Majesty. Which is fine with her. If she was a superhero, her meow would be her primary super power. (“Here, let me put that fire out. MEOW.”) That, and eating.

Cat puking is likewise unique for each. In bed, in sleep’s clutches, I can guess which cat is vomiting from their sound – except Tucker, who likes to employ stealth puking. If there is a feline upchuck in the house and I didn’t hear a noise, he’s the prime suspect. Quinn has an elaborate noisy production, accompanied by whole body heaves as the sound builds like a thunderstorm coming closer.

Other factors can be examined to learn who puked, necessary to follow up and ensure the cat is okay. The contents and presentation is significant. If there’s a hairball that looks like a dark mouse amidst the results, it probably originated with that perpetually grooming long haired handsome fellow, Quinn. If the splatter pattern appears like the cat was backing up as the puking was accomplished, that’s Tucker. Straightforward puddled mess on the porch points to Meep.

It’s important to know these things, not just as one of the gauges of the cats’ health, but also to keep you on your toes, you know, so you avoid stepping in one of these presents. Nothing makes a night time trip to the bathroom more delightful than stepping in a pile of this, which might be warm or cold, but strikes me as disgusting either way when it squeezes up between my toes or clings to my heel.

This has all been learned from observation, of course, from hearing the noises while awake, investigating what’s happening, and witnessing the behavior and results. Cats have owned me for decades.

I’m starting to tumble onto their ways.