Miss Emmie

Miss Emmie busts a move.

OK, I think Miss Zoe and I have beaten around the bush here and there about our Crazy Cat, Emmie for long enough.

Shall we Begin at the Beginning?

Yes, we shall.

We have an unwritten rule in this house. Actually, it may be a written rule. I'm not sure.

The rule is this: Don't look a Stray Cat in the Eye.

You may ask, "Who made up this rule?" Well, that would be the Blisschick.

Which explains why (or, maybe it doesn't explain why) I was at work a few years ago and I got a call from a very anxious sounding Blisschick, who yelled into the phone, "Frog! There's a cat in the hedge in the backyard with seafoam green eyes, and I looked right at her!"

Well, I knew what that meant, didn't I?

After spending days trying to catch her and finally doing so, we took her to the vet and got her de-everythinged. We had a friend who was all set to take her. We brought her home from the vet, unzipped the carrier, and the Blisschick said, "Welcome home, Miss Emmie!"

Emmie and her friend, Woolly Ball.

WHAT?

The other cats couldn't believe it. They did not want another cat. Not in the least!!

Especially when they found out that Miss Emmie was crazy! Absolutely NUTTERS!!

But, it seemed we had a new cat. Emily Dickinson. The Woman in White.

I wish I could say that she wasn't crazy right away. But, she was. She would stare in the most unsettling way at all the other animals. I remember spending more than a few almost sleepless nights downstairs on the couch in some strange effort to protect the other animals at night. I would drift off in fits and starts only to to open my eyes and find myself being stared at by a totally psycho looking animal. Miss Emmie had found a home.

It wasn't until a couple of years later that she first bit her tail.

We had gone out of town and left Miss Emmie and the others (Miss Zoe did not live here yet) in the care of our Trusted Catsitter. The day after we got home, Miss Emmie started growling and hissing and totally wigging out. All of a sudden, she bit her tail squarely on the tip, almost biting it off, as she proceeded to run around the house painting everything in sight with blood and her tailbrush.

It was NOT pretty! Like a live cat-painted Jackson Pollock.

We took Miss Emmie to the vet ER, where she got her Cone:

The Cone!!

The Vet explained that Miss Emmie has is a neurological disorder called Wiggle Cat Syndrome or some such. He said that to her, her tail feels numb and that she probably doesn't realize it's even there. Her back muscles all along her spine get twitchy, she gets agitated, and then-- BAM! The tail goes into the mouth, and the rest is history.

Bloody Tail Massacre.

We even have special clothes deemed "Blood Clothes" for those times when the world seems extra dark to Little Emmie.

Luckily, after many years of this, we have a good system in place. We use Bach's Flower Remedy (or Cat Whiskey, as we like to call it) to take the edge off when Emmie gets extra pissed off at her tail. A few drops behind the ear and she passes out like a baby after a big lunch.

Besides that, we've learned how smart she is. When she feels poorly, all you need to do is hold the Cone out toward her, and she practically dives into it. The limited space seems to comfort her.

Sometimes, when she doesn't have her cone handy, the Cat Tent does just fine:

Look at that cute little cat.
She is hiding from her tail. Will it follow her anyway?
Hmmmmmm.... poor Miss Emmie.

And of course, we also keep her shaved, because, besides being a little crazy, she's also a bit lazy about grooming.

And, of course, by lazy, I mean she doesn't groom at all.

This regular shearing process has earned her her other nickname: The Lamb

We love our Lamb very much, and it is for this reason that we feel the need to explain her. If one can explain such an Animal.

Miss Zoe would like a chance to explain the Lamb. What was that, Zoe?

"That Cat? It's just a Crazy Cat.
But, we love Her.
I'm just sayin'."

Right you are on all accounts, Miss Zoe. Right you are.