On January 17, I consulted a pet psychic as my last hope of resolving ongoing hostilities between the Cats Working felines without resorting to medication (for them, not me).
I did my homework and thought I found a good psychic; her website was impressive. I won’t name her because I’m not out to sink her career, which can be lucrative — $50 for 30 minutes.
When we spoke to schedule the session, I liked her. I prepared questions for her to ask the cats, which I read to her at the start of what became a 2-hour ordeal.
At the appointed hour, I phoned her from the living room while the cats lounged in my bedroom. We started with Adele, who kvetched about “dust in the air” when I vacuum and something I spray in the house. (The only spray I use is Clorox Clean-Up in the kitchen and bathroom when Adele’s not there). Adele also complained her food isn’t “pure” enough.
The psychic seemed to push a raw-meat diet, which is dangerous and nutritionally unbalanced, and then suggested a dog food. She seemed to think cats and dogs can eat the same food.
Then Adele got nasty. She accused me of adopting Cole and Max for myself, not as her companions, and thinks it’s unreasonable for me to expect harmony. She claimed I spend too much time with the boys, fail to “discipline” them, and let them get away with too much. She feels like she’s doing all the work with them. She also thinks I need to “reclaim” my house and put them all in their place.
I was told that my life is out of balance and that the cats crave for me to bring nature to them, if only by getting outdoors more myself. Their hostility toward each other mirrors my feelings about myself.
To correct this, I’m supposed to remind myself that “I love me” when things go wrong, and practice more creative visualization.
Adele urged me to live in the moment. “When you’re with Cole and Max in the moment, you can sense who they are.”
Now, readers, do I seem like I don’t have a good sense of who these cats are?
Then our attention turned to Cole, who cryptically replied, “My instincts run deep,” when asked why he’s still skittish after living here for over 2 years.
We’ve had this longstanding mystery with the Petmate cat fountain. It keeps emptying into the big tray it’s placed in. I know Cole does it, but have never caught him in the act.
Instead of just asking Cole, “How does the water get out of the fountain?”, the psychic pumped me for details on the fountain, then basically repeated them back to me, right down to the “glug, glug” of the water reservoir draining. She said Cole does it by putting his paw in the water.
Really? And I thought he was using a shop vac.
Last, Max told me he’s fun-loving and lets things roll off his back.
Well, DUH! Max is a kitten.
Max also observed that Cole is really smart. I’ll say. Cole can suck a cat fountain dry without getting caught.
Bottom line: The cats’ interpersonal issues are MY fault because of how I live my life. They want more discipline. And I need to stimulate Cole’s and Max’s minds more.
Surprisingly, the late Fred and Yul and their Christmas orbs never came up.
It’s taken me a few days to write about this because it (and its $200 price tag) left me really in the dumps. If you know Cats Working, you understand why.
Adele spent a few hours at the vet that same afternoon, having minor surgery on an injured claw, which she told the psychic she had snagged on the rug. (Good guess!) Adele didn’t think the vet could do much, but I disagreed. As a result, the vet saved the claw (and buh-bye to another $200).
After processing everything, I concluded the psychic thinks cats and dogs are interchangeable and she cribs off Dog Whisperer Cesar Millan a lot. His name even came up.
And all the New-Agey recommendations didn’t come from the cats. They’re not into that stuff.
I’m happy to report that the cats have relaxed into their usual level of bickering. I guess I’ll just have to live with it.
P.T. Barnum said there’s a sucker born every minute. This was definitely my minute.