After our beloved Sydney went to The Great Scratching Post in the Sky, we decided when we were ready for a cat again, we’d double down and get two. We’d tried adding a kitten to the mix once, but as much as Sydney loved humans and dogs, cats were another story. At best, they tolerated each other, but then Mia started tormenting Sydney, so we had to find her a new home. Great family; they texted me periodically for years, giving me updates on Mia. She adjusted well to her new home and they showered her with love. It was a happy ending for everyone.
We liked the idea of having two cats, figuring they’d keep each other company, especially when we weren’t around. Laverne and Shirley fit the bill nicely; they were a bonded pair who had spent their whole lives together (they were 3 and 1 when we adopted them in 2023), and sure enough, they acted like BFFs most of the time.
Right up until a couple of weeks ago.
Shirley had been having health issues. Vomiting daily, losing weight. The vet initially suspected food allergies, but the problem persisted even after switching to a special diet, so Tara took her in for some lab work and blood tests. It wasn’t cheap, but we really wanted to get to the bottom of this and figure out what was ailing her.
The moment Shirley returned from the vet, Laverne acted like she had never seen her before. Hissing and growling. We hoped this would stop after a day or two, but instead, it grew progressively worse. Two days later, they got into an honest to goodness fight. Screeching, fur flying, the works. Which of course freaked us out. What the hell was going on??
“Non-recognition aggression” is what’s going on. If you’ve never heard of it before, join the club! It’s a phenomenon unique to cats that occurs when one has spent time outside the home (a visit to the vet is the most common trigger); upon their return, they smell different because they have been exposed to other animals, medications, or stress. This triggers a territorial aggressive reaction in the cat that remained at home.
In most cases, per the internet, the cats will eventually recognize each other again once the foreign scent fades. In the meantime, like The Offspring says, you’ve gotta keep ’em separated. MarTar Manor isn’t huge, so this is easier said than done. We have a small laundry room, thankfully with a door, where we’ve set up a bed and litter box for Shirley. Tara’s plant room also has a door, so we’ll barricade Laverne in there on occasion. And there’s a tall baby gate separating the basement from the rest of the house (possibly the smartest investment I ever made, though I never would have guessed it at the time), so we can throw one in the basement while the other is upstairs.
To say this has upset the harmonious balance of our domicile is putting it mildly (and a tad grandiloquently, I suppose). It’s a constant game of shuffling cats back and forth, into and out of barricaded rooms, upstairs and downstairs, so each has an opportunity to roam freely about the house for a couple of stress-free hours while the other cries plaintively behind a closed door, begging to be let out. It sucks, but we don’t have a choice; twice, Shirley has slipped past Tara, only to run into Laverne. Hissing and yowling and chasing and all kinds of general mayhem ensues, while we’re racing to separate them and yelling “knock that shit off!” as if they understand a word we’re saying.
There’s a whole art to reintroducing cats, and we’re trying everything: scent-swapping by rubbing a towel one cat has been lying on over the other, feeding them on opposite sides of the baby gate where they can see each other, etc. We even bought a couple of TheraPet feline pheromone diffusers. So far, the only discernible difference I’ve noticed is the house smells vaguely of burnt crayons. Hell, I’d shove this photo in their faces if I thought it would help. Look! You used to be buddies!!
Despite all these carefully orchestrated steps, they are still acting like Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier, like Superman and Lex Luthor, like The Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote, like [insert mortal enemy pairing of choice]. Knowing how close they were for the past almost-three years, this is nothing short of heartbreaking.
How long this will continue is a mystery. In some cats, the situation resolves in days. Others take weeks. Some, I guess, never fully reintegrate. In a rare case of role reversal, Tara is optimistic they’ll be back to their old loving selves eventually, while I’m Mr. Doom and Gloom. Patience has never been my virtue. I hope like hell she’s right.
Shirley’s diagnosis, by the way? Feline IBS, as in, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and a vitamin-B deficiency. We’re managing it with topical steroids and a hydrolyzed protein diet. It’s a good thing I wasn’t drinking anything when Tara told me how much one 7-lb. bag of dry food costs, because I would have done a spit take. I know you can’t put a price tag on your pets, but I’mma be honest, this is pretty close. At least it seems to be doing the trick; the vomiting has stopped, and she’s putting on some much-needed weight. Now, if we could just get them to remember they actually like each other, everything would be peachy.
I know a bunch of you are cat owners, so if you’ve ever experienced this yourself, I’d love some advice.
The ancient art of brining
I refuse to end this post on a somber note, so let’s switch gears and talk about pretzels. Bet you never saw that twist coming, didja?!
(Pretzel humor rocks.)
When I was traveling all over South Dakota for my CenturyCo gig, I discovered a local East River pretzel brand called Kringle’s Gourmet. A pretzel is a pretzel, you might be thinking. You would be wrong. These pretzels were far and away better than any I’d ever tried. I’ll let their website explain why:
At the heart of our process lies an ancient secret — the art of brining. With an unwavering commitment to excellence, we allow our snacks to marinate in our signature brine for a minimum of 24 hours. This time-honored technique infuses our creations with a harmonious fusion of seasonings and spices, resulting in a taste that resonates with the soul.
OK, so it all sounds a little woo-woo, but they’re amazing. I enjoyed them so much, I made it a point to stock up every time I was on that side of the state. Brought some into the office and got my work peeps hooked, too. It got to the point where, whenever I had a business trip scheduled, I’d have coworkers approach me when nobody else was around, slip a $20 bill into my hand, and ask, “Can you pick me up some of the good stuff?” The break room started to feel like the seedy underbelly of CenturyCo.
And then, in 2022, Kringle’s Gourmet suddenly went out of business. I learned later this was due to a combination of factors: the pandemic, supply chain shortages, price increases, and health issues. I’ve been rereading my blog, and when I got to the above-linked post, I decided to search for them on Google on the off chance that they were back. And lo and behold, they are! They relaunched the business as the South Dakota Pretzel Co. in 2023. Sweet! Right before Christmas, I hopped online and ordered a couple of my favorite flavors from back in the day.
They finally showed up yesterday. Apparently, SDPC had been on an extended holiday break and were then working through a big backlog of orders. Six weeks for pretzels seems like an awfully long time, but as soon as I opened the Dilly Dill and shoved a fistful in my mouth sampled one, I knew they had been worth the wait.
Come to think of it, they’d make a perfect Super Bowl snack…
Mark My Words 
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