From L.T.’s Chair

Around the time I started writing for a living, my friend, Dave Blatte, gave me an old hand-me-down chair I could use in my home office. When she first saw it, my wife Hilary wrinkled her nose. “You’re not bringing that in here…” But however much Hilary disliked the chair, my step-cat, L.T., loved it.

It’s hard to say whether it’s because of her ordeals, or because we’re suckers, but we let L.T. get away with murder. When she was a kitten, L.T. began suffering from a strange neurological condition that wasted her muscles away. Finally, L.T. became so weak she couldn’t even walk. Hilary rushed her to the vet hospital at UC Davis, and, like all the vets before, they were unable to offer a diagnosis. But they did prescribe her prednisone, which helped. They also suggested that we visit Molly Rice, a San Francisco vet who practices acupuncture.

Amazingly, the acupuncture worked wonders. L.T. got better and better, until, during one treatment, she swallowed a needle. That was the end of that.

L.T. can’t jump, and she’s in pain some of the time. But she sure can defend her property. As soon as she laid eyes on Dave Blatte’s ugly office chair, L.T. claimed it as her own. She’s on the chair day and night, and is all too happy to scratch and bite if you try and move her. We’ve reached a compromise, by which L.T. gets 2/3 of the chair, and I sit on the edge. Whether I’m writing a book, talking to reporters, or engaged in a conference call, chances are I’ll be sitting on the chair with L.T. It’s only appropriate that I call this blog “from L.T.’s chair.”

Visit L.T.’s catster page at: http://www.catster.com/cats/367280