Therapy Pet? Nope.

I might have mentioned that my mother has become a warrior when it comes to our son's girlfriend's cat, Sydney.  Mom sees that cat and panics.  "Get that cat away!" she yells.  "Don't let it into my room!"  She, who is usually a sweet and mild mannered woman turns into a vigilante saying things like, "I'm gonna shoot that cat!"  Whoa...Mom!  What's the deal with that?!

Well...now our dog, Kira has taken up the cry.  She and my mother have united on their mission to rid our house of Christina's cat. (Mind you, Sydney has historically remained in her apartment behind closed doors and honors the house rules.)

Mom loves Kira.  Mom and Kira bond in some unspoken way and when Kira hears Sydney meow on the other side of the door she runs to Grandma for attention.  Mom complies with a scratch behind the ears while Kira gives a satisfied smile.

I don't want to make it seem like the poor little kitty is a saint though.  There are reasons that Kira is terrorized by the cat and who knows, maybe there are reasons for my mother's dislike of Sydney as well.  I know that Sydney, upon meeting Kira, attacked her with hisses and slaps to the snout.  Kira, who is at least four times larger was offended by this behavior and ran from Sydney back downstairs finding a sympathetic adult who might protect her from the psychopath upstairs.  Grandma placed her hand on Kira's head and scratched softly thus calming and reassuring Kira that today she would not be eaten by the 'Clawed Aggressor'.

The other night, Christina and Bill were visiting from their apartment and accidentally left the door open.  It was late.  Mom was asleep in her room.  Skip had also gone to sleep.  Bill and Christina were sitting with me on the screened porch when Kira came running outside in a panic.  She looked around wildly to see who might assist.  "What's the matter, Kira?" I asked.  I ignored her.  She left.  A few minutes later she returned; this time Skip was following.  He looked sleepy and announced that she woke him up jamming her snout in his face and pushing on him until he got out of bed.
"I guess she needs to go out," he told us.

Kira refused to go out and Skip grew impatient, yelled at her and returned to bed.  A few minutes later Kira repeated the same behavior. This time Skip was angry.  He insisted that she go out with him and 'do her thing' but when they returned he reported that she had not done anything but pull at him to return to the porch where she remained pushed up against me.  Skip was about to return to the bedroom when he heard the unmistakable meow.  It was coming from our dining room.  Sydney had escaped and was in our house!  THAT'S what Kira was trying to tell us.  There was no Grandma to provide loving support and the rest of us were ignoring her!

They say that animals are great therapy for the elderly but I submit that it is the other way around in our home.  Furthermore, certain animals (such as cats who obviously visit my mother at night and threaten to sleep in her bed no doubt) are the antithesis of therapy pets.  Just ask my mother and my dog.  According to them we are under siege and there's no one paying any attention.  In fact, if my mother awoke at night calling that there was something in her room we might ignore her assuming that it was her dementia.  (It causes hallucinations.)

I have a feeling that if given an opportunity my mother would take care of this, ehem, 'problem' Mobster style.  Yep, Sydney, if left to my mother and with complete support of our dog, you could be taking a long walk on a short pier!