Weekend so far

[quislibet]

On Friday night, J. and I diagnosed our "kitten" -- who is three years old, but whatever -- as suffering from Feline Occasional Tachyphagioemetic Disorder, meaning, according to our pseudo-medical neologistic whimsy, that every so often she eats so fast that she pukes.

(Possible treatments include heating the wet food or stirring some dry food into it.)

Yesterday night we walked down to the Russian Aid Society on Pickering Wharf. About two years ago we took a six-week swing-dancing course and so ended up on the mailing list of the instructors, a husband-and-wife team of dance-teacher-and-DJ, irrespectively, and so knew that they were going to be providing the music for some sort of dance. As we have been meaning to go to one of their dances for two years, without scheduling success, we took the opportunity presented by the fact that there was one so nearby on a night we were home.

There were 14 people there, counting the dancing duo; it turned out to be a fund-raiser, open to the public, for a Russian Orthodox church. The "public" turned out to be just us; everyone else except the DJs was from the church.

The priest -- who strangely reminded me of Klae, somehow -- and his wife had also once taken a class from the same people. They were really the only others there who danced much, in between seeing to the refreshments table. Everyone else looked really sullen and unhappy to be there (one guy worked on his laptop) and apparently didn't like the eclectic mix of swing and rhumba tunes; at one point, J. noticed a couple of people trying to plug in an aging jukebox, which, alas for them, had a too-frayed cord.

Likewise, the priest and his wife, along with the DJs, were the only ones who deigned to notice us.

But we had a decent time anyway; not knowing anyone, and with no one apparently caring to know us, we could dance incompetently, even by ourselves, without being too self-conscious. Also, the desserts were good, especially the pumpkin cake-roll thingy, although the savories were kind of alarming, like the jellied mystery meat cubes that, J. discovered unhappily (almost causing her to mimic in some small way the vomitous antics of Kitten), turned out to contain small but unappetizing chips of bone.

Comments

[quislibet.livejournal.com]

Fair enough, although so far (1) the other cat doesn't seem to behave similarly and (2) if we do something like heating the food to make her slow down, she doesn't throw up.

But we'll mention it next vet visit, which will come sooner if she starts breaking her pattern.

[thenetimp.livejournal.com]

My cat has been doing this for years, I just kind of grunt, and pick it up, and glare at here in disapproval, where she turns around sticks her ass in the air and walks away, at least now I have a name for it.

[uruz.livejournal.com]

We had a cat that did that, as well. The best way to control the yacking is to shoo them away once they've eaten exactly half their meal and keep them away until a good 10-15 minutes have passed.