Maggie Pill Mysteries

They're not very big, and they have no words to tell us what they want, but we make all sorts of adjustments for our furry little friends. Why? Because we love them, and maybe a little bit because they'll get us if we don't. Before: "Not yet happy w/arrangement" After: "This works for me" A few months ago I chronicled the search for the perfect napping place for Old Cat. She wants to be with me as I work, but her preferred place was between me and the keyboard, which didn't work well for my writing. We compromised on a second chair at the desk, where she's sleeping as I write this. Still, it took two pillows and a couple of different blankets before she attained the desired effect. Downstairs, Old Cat has her own section of the couch (protected by her own blanket--note the strings from her kitty claw push-ups) where she spends her afternoons in pretty much the same position as she spent the morning. Evenings are spent either in my...

I came across these photos recently of Taz, who was my daughter's beloved cat for many years. He'd had a terrible life when they met. He'd been kept in a box and apparently tormented, so he'd developed a tendency to attack first. He was Persian, with long, gray hair and very sharp claws. The shelter (in Bahrain, where cats are not beloved) had intended to put him down until my daughter showed up one day and decided he was the cat for her.   It turned out that Taz was exactly the cat for her, though not for anyone else. After spending the first few months in a closet in her bedroom, he finally began venturing out, but she was the only one who could deal with him. Anyone else who invaded his territory got a snarl and a swipe, often even if you were just passing by. The maid who came once a week would knock on the door and immediately ask, "Madam, where is the cat?" She was terrified of Taz, and that was just the way he liked it. When they were ready to move...