Taco peed on the other couch. The one that he hadn’t peed on yet.
This is ultimately frustrating. I consider myself a loving, caring, well-informed kitty mommy that tries really hard to give her boys the best life possible. I know he’s not doing it on purpose, but it’s a slap in the face.
I’m sure you’re all getting sick of me bitching about this. I’M getting sick of bitching about this. And I’m gonna be honest, I’m sick of hearing the boyfriend bitch about it. This isn’t to say that he’s wrong for being upset. But here’s what happens…he gets pissed about it. I’m pissed on a different level, like a “this is what mommies have to endure but sweet jesus stop” level. And sometimes I feel like he’s pissed on a “let’s get rid of the cat” level. This has not been expressly said. So then I am dealing with my own frustration, his higher level of frustration, AND trapped between that and defensiveness for my baby.
From a logic point of view, I see why this combo causes a higher level of upset for me. I understand (for the most part) why cats do what they do. The fact that I can’t figure out how to make Taco stop peeing on the couch is a frustrating conundrum but out of all the things I DO understand about cats, this one thing is a fraction. The boyfriend loves them. But he is not a crazy cat lady. He didn’t decide that he liked cats more than humans. He just decided he liked me enough to put up with a crazy cat lady for what is going on 10 years. He doesn’t GET them. What bothers me most is that he should know how upsetting it is to me just merely not reinforcing strongly that he would never ask that we re-home Taco. Just because he hasn’t said the words indicating that he wants to doesn’t mean I’m not afraid that he’s going to ask that. My boys are non-negotiable. But so is my relationship. So it hurts that he doesn’t understand this very big part of my life, the crazy cat ladiness. Or at least give in to understanding that he can’t understand and be on my side. And be upset WITH me…not because our cat peed on our couch, but because I can’t fix Taco no matter how hard I try. I don’t even know if this makes sense reading it. And he will probably be upset with me for being so brutally honest here, but frankly, I had to get it out.
Taco is my baby. He might be a lemon, but he’s my lemon. He’s at least in a home where he will not be abused for peeing on a couch. He gets the best I can give him. I can’t save them all, but I can at least give one a little bit of leeway for being an animal. I just really really really really wish I could stop it. Boyfriend, I would. I even spent my lunch hour trying to figure out how to become a cat behaviorist (I haven’t really figured that out yet, but usually if I can’t afford something I try to do it myself. This is proving difficult in cat whispering Taco).
And despite all this, I successfully completed week 2 of smoke-free weekdays. I wanted to smoke this morning when the boyfriend told me about the loveseat desecrating, but I made my boss talk me out of it. Knee jerk reaction when I get bad news. So I have that to be positive about! At least I have control over something…