Why do I have to suffer when mine the mom decides to “eat healthy” and not have wheat anymore? Do you know what wheat makes? wheat makes FRENCH TOAST. Why must I suffer for her problems?
Because people are MEAN, dood. All they think about is themselves and what THEY want to eat and how it might make their intestines blow up like a party balloon and then explode forth in a stream of Oh Gross Light A Freaking Candle. If she can’t eat French Toast anymore, fine, but she should make it for you every now and then. Seriously!
On the other hand…maybe she’ll bring more real live fresh dead meaty things into the house and share them with you. SHRIMP, dood! Maybe you’ll get shrimp!
But yeah. She needs to make you some French Toast an apologize for being so selfish and thoughtless about what you enjoy.
Mr. Max, hello and thank you. My name is Rajesh, I’m an Indian Prince and I have for you 1 billion American dollars if you just send me your credit card information. Ha ha ha. No, I have a real question: I found a shiny on the coffee table and started to play with it, but the teenager freaked out and took it away from me and said that cats can’t play with chocolate kisses. Then she kissed me on the top of the head and said that kiss would have to do, but she wasn’t really sure WHY chocolate is bad for cats, just that it can make them very sick or kill them. Do you know?
Chocolate contains a chemical called Theobromine, which is toxic to cats and dogs. Also, it has caffeine, which isn’t good for us, either. Both are from a class of chemicals called “Methylxanines” and makes things in a kitty’s body go way wonky. Blood pressure can go up, urine output soars, which leads to all kinds of unhappy things, like seizures and dying.
There’s a difference in the amounts that are found in milk chocolate versus dark chocolate, which is why a dog can get away with eating a little bit of milk chocolate but not the same amount of dark chocolate (we found this out when Hank the Dog ate half a bag of those kisses.) Kitties are far less tolerant, so absolutely no chocolate is safe for them. Best rule of paw: no chocolate at all, ever, for cats and dogs.
Your teenager did a very good thing for you, just in case you got the wrapper open and licked it. Give her a head bump, and tell her I said “Good job!” But don’t kiss her for me, because that would just be…ugh…no.
Max, who’s “Vader?” I think I want to know someone who has the guts to kiss you.
Vader is a very old, mostly blind, mostly deaf, sarcastic, FAT, kitty who decided she wanted to live with some friends of the Woman even though they already had three cats and weren’t looking for another. She used to live next door to them but the person who lived there wasn’t taking care of her. The ONLY reason she can get away with kissing me is because she’s so old that I kinda feel like I have to respect what she does even if I don’t like it. It’s kinda like being kissed by someone’s Grandma…you don’t want to, but you have to let her.
And I want my billion dollars. Cash, please.
OK, Max, here’s a real serious question you can answer or not answer.
Mom and I have been talking a bunch about dying, ’cause I’ve been sick (but not dying yet) and she’s giant gloom and doom monster. . . and. . . she says there’s no such thing as the Rainbow Bridge. . . that it’s just something people made up so they wouldn’t be so sad when their animals weren’t alive anymore and she doesn’t think she can believe in it. Is she telling the truth? And if there is no Rainbow Bridge, where do we go when we die?
Dood, I believe there’s a Rainbow Bridge; I doubt it’s like an actual bridge, like the Golden Gate or the Brooklyn Bridge—or maybe it is—but deep down I know there’s something after this. Some people don’t believe in any kind of afterlife, and that’s okay; I think they’ll get to enjoy what comes next no matter what they think while they’re in the here and now. Some people believe in heaven but don’t believe in hell, and I think that’s fine, too (and on that I kinda agree with them…but that would take a long time to explain….) Some people aren’t at all sure if anything happens when we die, and that’s all right.
Look, we all know the Rainbow Bridge poem was written by a person, and for sure, it’s to help other people feel better about their favorite furballs dying. And let’s not use euphemisms here: it’s all about coping with dying. We don’t “go to sleep” or “run off.” Our lives end; we die. But the fact that someone wrote that poem and made up this wonderful, idyllic place…that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist in some form or another.
The way I see it, there’s something after this life for anyone or anything with a soul. People used to not believe that cats and dogs and fish and bugs had souls, but anyone who spends any time watching animals and paying attention to how they learn, how they react, how they figure out how to use tools and manipulate others to get what they want and need has to grasp that we all have souls. And souls? Dood, they all get to move on, whether it’s to a bridge or a cloud or some fluid place that turns into what that soul needs. I think we get our special place to wait for our people as a reward for having been there for them, for having been someone for them to love and care for, and for loving them back. Because you know as well as I do, we love our people even when we’re complaining about them.
But let’s suppose your person is right; there is no Rainbow Bridge. We die and then we’re just gone. Know what? We do that several times a day. We curl up and go to sleep, and we slip into that place that exists between our dreams, where nothingness is real, and we hang there. It doesn’t bother us then. We were in that nothingness before we were born and we were fine with it. And as much as cats love their naps…well, I can’t imagine it would be any worse than that.
Still, I think there’s something after this for us. It’s not because some clever person decided to write a cute poem to make other people feel better; it’s because deep down, I can feel it. And if people get a heaven, then we get something, too. It’s not just that we have souls; we are souls.
Does that make me right and your mom wrong? Absolutely not. Dood, people believe what they believe based on the things they were taught when they were sticky people, and what they believe changes in flux as they grow up and grow older. Sometimes it’s because of their religion; sometimes it’s because of the things they see and hear. Sometimes it’s just their gut telling them something. My gut says we get another roll of the giant dice, because to me nothing else makes sense. Maybe your mom’s gut doesn’t.
In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think people making things up to make themselves feel better about dying—whether it’s for them or for us—is a bad thing. It helps them cope. If we don’t go to the Bridge, we go somewhere…maybe it’s a custom created place where we get everything and anything we want, maybe it’s a cloud hopping heaven, or maybe it’s like deep sleep that perfect slice of nothing that exists between our dreams. But what comes next, whatever it might be, will be all right.