A photograph of Jamie Nettles

Jamie's Pages



Prissy is noisy. She likes to eat. I dislike speaking ill of anyone, but it must be said that she is a liar. She frequently asserts that she is quite literally starving to death and barely has enough energy left to beg pitifully for a scrap of food to sustain herself for a few minutes longer. This typically comes an hour or so after I've already fed her. If we leave for two days and give her enough food to last for both days, she is well on the way to finishing it before we have left the house. I would love to know what it is about how Prissy is put together that makes her overeat so. Early neglect as a kitten? Genetics? I have the same problem. I can look at the padding around my waist and know that I have enough reserves to last several days and yet hear my body insist that I am hungry and that I need to eat NOW! It makes no sense.

Prissy loves to chase Mia. Until Roxanne moved in , Prissy was the alpha dog (we haven't been able to convince her she isn't a dog). She avoids Roxanne, however. This frustrates Roxanne no end.

Prissy does not like to be picked up or held. She does like to be near me and will lie near me and purr. She has learned that after I pick her up (something she lets me know she does not appreciate) she will get a treat. She lets me know if I forget this important obligation on my part.

I think she must have Siamese in her, due to the vocalness, her blue eyes, her playfulness with the dogs and her dislike of being picked up or held.

Recently the vet game me drops to put in Prissy's ears and things have taken a turn for the worse, much worse. Prissy is convinced we've all gone mad. She must now stay vigilant, watching for me to have one of my "spells". If I walk past her as she lays on her favorite spot she keeps an eye on me. If I turn to pet her, she runs away quickly, lest I visit some unholy ritual on her body. Poor Prissy, to live in a world where those you depend on for food, comfort and companionship have gone mad and are out to perform strange rituals on you. I've tried to explain to her that they are only eardrops and they'll make her feel better but she knows that is just a ruse. I read recently where the early cats in France were prized for their meat and fur. I suspect Prissy inherited several genes from a line of ancestors who survived by being extremely suspicious of all human activity. I've tried reverse psychology and taunted her, speaking lustfully of how great she'd taste in a stew or how beautiful she would look in a new coat I'm planning. It's not working. She just gives me a look that lets me know I haven't told her anything she didn't already know.