Category: #kittylove
Giving back without burning out.
I’m pretty logical about everything, even being illogical. There’s an explanation for everything, even if it’s not scientifically measurable yet. But I still cling to my belief in karma. I don’t necessarily think that bad things happen to bad people all the time, but I think that bad people do bad things because they’re not right in the head, and are probably unhappy, or too stupid to realize they’re unhappy. I think not being able to enjoy the good things in life is karma in itself.
Taco reflecting on life.
I don’t consider myself a “lucky” person because there IS no luck, there are only seemingly random happenings that are taken as “good luck” or “bad luck” depending on the person’s viewpoint. An unhappy, negative person will see the bad in the things rather than the good, and vice versa. It’s kind of like when you’re having a bad day, where it seems like one unlucky thing happens after another…it’s probably not really more than any other day, but one of those things in the beginning of the day put you in a bad mood where you notice those little annoying things more and therefore think your day is cursed. I have those days. We all do. I’m a firm believer in wallowing to get over stuff, so when I have those days, I let myself be annoyed and shake my fist at the universe for allowing these horrible (but not really horrible, everything is usually pretty minor in comparison) things to happen to me ALL IN ONE DAY. Then I get over it.
That being said, I have a pretty decent life. I wish that I had the time or energy to give back. I’m not a huge fan of people but I would love to volunteer at a shelter. I’m gonna be honest and say that I’m not really sure that I could handle it even if I had the time, though. Animals affect me in a way that no social injustice ever could. I can see myself getting attached and hurt a lot. I can’t distance myself. I get sad about ratty looking stray cats in my neighborhood just LOOKING at them. And I’m pretty sure most of hem aren’t even strays, just cats that have owners that are too selfish to realize what a horrible idea it is to let their cats roam. It’s not exactly rural here.
Taco forced to live under a newspaper.
It takes me DAYS to get over seeing a dead cat on the side of the road. Hell, I’ll cry about dead SQUIRRELS. How can I be trusted to see animals that have no home all in one place? Ones that may never find their forever home. I can’t bring them all home, even if I could it would be horribly irresponsible of me and unfair to the cats. I like dogs enough, not near the level that I like cats but they’ll bring a tear to my eye too. I just don’t really like being jumped on. And they’re a little smelly for me. But they’re just as innocent and loving.
He’s loved.
Maybe one day I’ll have the time AND figure out how to balance my overly emotional self. Until then I’ll have to help my “karma” by donating when I can and spreading good kitty information. I fancy myself somewhat of an expert in that arena, anyway.
It’s hard to write a blog with a cat on your lap.
Yet here I am, writing a blog with a purring Taco curled up like my lap is the only place in the world that’s remotely comfortable. And even that’s a stretch, because he keeps getting up and readjusting and flopping down like his legs are broken. Taco’s a funny cat. He doesn’t do anything halfway. I give him mad props for that. When he loves you, he REALLY REALLY REALLY loves you. When he’s playing with a giant moth, he’s going to play with that hideous thing until…well…until I pick it up and throw it outside. I couldn’t find it half the time, and the few occasions that I did, it was in Taco’s mouth and that just plain grossed me out. I’m really not sure how that thing was even alive, but it was flap-flap-flapping away. Wasn’t really going anywhere. But it sure was fun for Taco. Moosh just kind of tagged along when he felt like it. I guess it was too much work for him to have any real part in it. Besides, Moosh’s specialty is attacking moving lights. He’d starve in the real world. I think he’s a little “special.”
Moosh LOOOOOVES his pillow time.
Cat is off my lap. That’s good, because he made a horrible armrest. Too furry.
Taco on my lap, one day when it was sunny. Fun fact: he will only sit on my lap while I’m sitting at the desk.
It’s a rainy, crappy day today and I don’t feel inspired by anything. So this is just some random musings. I didn’t even get to do my weekly retail therapy at Le Boutique Target today. There was thunder and lightning. Lots of it. Sure, I’ve got galoshes for the rain part, but I’m not willing to test out my lightning strikeability anytime soon.
So. Lazy boyfriend, lazy cats, lazy me. Anyone doing anything fun and sunshiny? Don’t tell me, I don’t wanna hear about it. Sigh.
Taco is a FOUL beast. Ugh.
Florida loses one crazy cat lady. TREAT HER WELL, SEATTLE!
I’m having a sad week. One of my most very dear friends is moving. Really far away. Pretty much as far away as you can get and still be in the contiguous United States. We are bonded forever through our love for Bloodhound Gang, Leslie Hall, crafting, spending money and above all, kitties. Yes, she is just as crazy cat lady as me. She has spent an equal amount of time at the vet (OK, maybe not EQUAL, mine are lemons, after all…but close) and equal time on google searching cat things. We have spent a great deal of time relating kitty stories. I can’t even remotely begin to count the number of lolcats we have sent each other over the years. And she’s leaving.
Sigh.
So this, my Polish sister, is for you. A tribute to you through your furry kid, Aleister. The cutest ginger I know!
May you and the hubby fare well in the long, long, long, long meowing car ride. And past that, I hope all three of you adjust quickly and love your new adventures in Seattle. Just like Milo and Otis. Oh, and I hope you finagle adding a kitten to the fam too =)
I stole these from her facebook because I suck at remembering things, like sending myself the kitten pics of Aleister I have on my work computer. Enjoy anyway.
She likes to dress up her cat too.
Aleister is very chic.
Artsy pic of kitty? Check.
I miss you already!
My million-dollar idea. Bottled kitten love.
Hi! I’m a kitten. Love me!
There are very few people on this earth that can look at a baby kitten and be disgusted. Even the hardest of individuals can’t look a kitten in the eye and not at least THINK “awwwwwwwww.” There are, of course, the people who are unfeeling towards kittens, Moosh Moosh having been the victim of one of them, and I say this without a sliver of joking, they should be maimed. Death penalty is not even good enough. Not the point today, though. Today, I’m sharing my million-dollar idea. I’m sharing this because it’s an impossible million-dollar idea, so if someone actually takes this idea and makes it work, I tip my hat to you. You deserve the millions.
No one can resist this.
Bottling kitten cuteness. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are a lot of jerks in this world these days. I can be one of them, but I usually like to reserve it for people who deserve it, like the people who don’t use turn signals or who grab my arm without warning to “look” at my tattoos. So if I could just bottle the “awww” factor kittens have, and spray it like mace, the world would be a much better place. “What’s that, Bin Laden? Terrorism? Have some kitten.” Boom. Problem solved. We might even be able to save America this whole healthcare debate. Who can possibly get sick when you’ve been dosed with kitten?
LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE
So you see, this is an amazing idea. However, without putting an actual kitten in a spray bottle (as a vegan and animal rights activist I can see this would be a very bad way to go about it), it is an impossible one. How sad.
Hey scientists, how about you stop making expensive prescription drugs that no one can afford anyway and get on this? Except for you Hadron Collider people, you stay on that. That’s good stuff. Keep it up.
Let sleeping dogs lie, but never cats.
Am I the only person obsessed with my sleeping cats? I must have more pictures of snoring kitties than Vegas has hookers. They’re just SO FREAKING ADORABLE when they’re sleeping (the cats, not the hookers), and just like a snowflake, I swear they never sleep the exact same way twice. There is always ONE cute little tiny change, which is why I feel the urge to snap yet another picture. Taco often sleeps sprawled as if the floor is going to move out from under him. Moosh will sleep with his fat gut in the air like a doofus. These are just my two favorite poses, but oh-em-gee there are so many others. And the rare moments when I actually catch them sleeping together, that will simply make my day. Even if they are merely sleeping in close proximity to each other, I feel as if I’ve been awarded some magical gift.
So close…
And don’t even get me started about kittens. They fall asleep in the middle of things, and it’s so adorable I could die.
Of course, the poses never last long, because I have to pet them and coo. But THEN they do even CUTER stretchy things and I coo some more. My absolute favorite is what I call the “backwards stretch,” where they curl their paws in and do some sort of opposite stretch thing. I think that I’ve attempted something similar but it’s not nearly as fun to watch and I usually end up giving myself a Charley Horse in my calf.
Here’s where I get a little strange. If the cats have been inactive for a certain amount of time, I feel this compulsion to find them at least once an hour and wake them up. Do human mothers do this? Is this engrained? I can’t help myself. It’s not like I really think they’re dead. I just need to poke them and make sure every so often. Then I get to see them do the stretchy thing. Bonus!
Time to poke.
I think it’s entirely possible that I’m just jealous that they look so comfortable. My bed is pretty damn comfortable, but I have never felt as happy or serene as they look in even the most awkward of positions.
Love and cats.
A scientific mind overanalyzes everything. This is what I tell myself to make myself feel better, anyway.
Although I am a fan of all animals, I am most definitely a cat person. I won’t even kill insects unless they are stinging me or in my house, which I consider fair game.
After a lifetime of careful thought, this is my conclusion: I love things more when I have to fight for it. This is true of my love life as well.
He doesn’t even let me win mini-golf on my birthday.
The boyfriend and I will have been together for 9 years as of June 7th. We’ve definitely had our ups and downs but in the end, I love the hell out of him and I know he loves the hell out of me — I mean, how could he not? But we don’t always LIKE each other. I’m not saying that we ever hate each other…we’re just both independent people who are totally ok having alone time and we are both easily annoyed. There is a balance of power in a relationship that is always shifting. My theory is that this is what keeps things interesting. We always love each other, but the upper hand goes back and forth.
This, I think, is the basis of why I am a cat person. Hear me out.
The balance of power is always shifting in the kitty/kitty mommy relationship. They sit on your lap JUST as you’re about to get up, but refuse to sit there when you put them there yourself. They adore you when they’re ready to be fed, but might completely ignore you for an entire day in between feedings. Dogs love you ALL the time. Nothing against dogs, or people who love them. Personally, I just love a good fight. This is a genetic thing. I’m cocky, I can be arrogant, and every once in awhile I need a worthy opponent to take me down a peg or two.
So those times when I’m walking up to my house and see one of the babies jump in the window, looking happy to see me (when it’s NOT time for food), it brings me joy. They love me. I’ve won one round in the uphill lifetime battle. When I get an after-food snuggle, or a purr without being touched, I win. I will never continuously hold the upper hand. It just makes the victories that much sweeter.
im on yur lap, steelin yur comfurt
And boyfriend (I know you tell me you read this but I don’t believe you), I love you. I know this is a RIDICULOUS anniversary message but after 9 years, I had to try something new. So here it is. Thank you for loving me and the kitties even though sometimes you pretend not to. And thank you for being my lifetime sparring partner. You keep me interested. Otherwise you’d be long gone =P
Can we get a kitten?
Support no-kill or save a life?
Not that I’m allowed to get another cat. The boyfriend has made it clear that if another cat moves in, he’s moving out. He does really useful things, like taking out the trash and using a toilet instead of a litter box. He’s also there for me to annoy incessantly when I’m bored with doing that to the cats. I guess there’s the whole “love” thing, too.
But every time I see adoptable cats, I want them. They are calling to me. I was at PetSmart today (I only shop there because I can get Taco’s prescription food there, which they SO INCONVENIENTLY put next to the adoptable cats) and these kitties were CALLING to me. One literally was, I told him I couldn’t have another mouth in the house. Taco is deafening enough. But there is always one that really really gets me. This time, it was a 10-month-old tabby/white mix. I generally don’t even like partly white cats (I like them all, I just usually don’t find them attractive). This big guy was so cute. I am a sucker for big paws, and he stretched those big mitts out at me, just BREAKING my heart.
Tell me he’s not cute.
This is where my moral dilemma comes in, even though it is a hypothetical one, since I can’t get another cat.
The kitties at this PetSmart were from the Pinellas County Animal Shelter. The animal shelter is NOT a no-kill facility, meaning if these guys don’t don’t find homes, they’re euthanized for space. I know it’s logistically not possible for a state-funded operation to avoid this, but I don’t particularly want to support it, either. So how can you choose between saving an animal that might otherwise be “put down” or supporting a facility (through your adoption fee) that makes every effort to not euthanize?
All of my cats are strays. Except Taco, his mom was rescued while preggers, so he’s never really known the streets. As much as I dream about having full-blood Bengal or a Cheetoh or a Toyger, there are so many stray, unwanted and unloved babies out there without it being necessary to breed more. Besides, Taco is part Bengal and if I pretend he’s bigger, Moosh is almost Panther-like.
KINDA like a panther, right?
I guess the end result is what really matters. You save an animal, no matter how you do it.
And when I can, I assuage my guilt by donating when I can, and taking my old clothes over to the Friends of Strays thrift store. I wish I could volunteer but two jobs take up most of my time and I doubt I’d be much help crying over wanting to take them all home. It would be like putting a drug addict in an evidence room.
Just in case anyone feels like donating…these are really good no- kill shelters that can always use the help:
Friends of Strays
Pet Pal Animal Shelter
Second Chance for Strays
Save Our Strays
For the love of cats (and hatred of fleas)
I stopped by my mom’s yesterday. I haven’t seen Fatty and Little for a couple weeks.
Little and Fatty, back in the day.
Cats are really funny. They are both so much better. So much so, in fact, that Little went back to his routine of hiding from me immediately, and Fatty punished me for my recent absence by ignoring my love for awhile. No purr.
It was funny, the moment I could tell that he decided I had suffered enough. He jumped down from his box and swirled around my arm, started purring and plopped his fat self down on my hand. Apparently I should visit more often.
Little never did come out from under the bookcase, even with treats. I got him to move a tiny little bit for one, but Fatty ran under and ate the others. I naively thought that Little meowing at me to pet him a few weeks was because he decided he liked me. Silly me, it’s just because he felt like shit. If you are a crazy cat lady, you understand this feeling of failure. In my mind, every cat should love me because they should KNOW. Just like I think every stray cat I see, whether it’s at a shelter or on the street, is saying to me “I KNOW you would love me SO much and I would LOVE to come home with you. PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!”
Little, the loner kitty.
But I digress. It’s a huge relief to see them acting like normal, since the fleas took so much power from them. I hate fleas. I really hate them. And I hate that the lack of winter here, hence lack of cold, cold that I HATE, is partially to blame for the fuckers’ survival (the fleas, not the cats).
I live in a townhouse so I don’t really have much of a yard for fleas to live in. This is probably why I have been able to somewhat control them with Moosh and Taco. But I am terrified of them taking root. I have boraxed, revolutioned, vacuumed and washed. Taco was ok with the natural flea spray the first few times I used it on him, but now he will gouge me to get away.
By the way, that stuff REALLY freakin’ works. Vet’s Best. I used it on myself. I read the bottle…it doesn’t say not to.
Anyway. Fatty is good. I’m pretty sure Little is, since for him, hiding is normal. Fatty is getting back to being fat. He actually only weighs a little more than Moosh and Taco, Not quite sure how his giant gut does not factor more in to the equation.
And now Taco is eating my sandal, so I think that means I have to go pay attention to him. This is fine with me, I’m sick and feel like crap anyway. Laying down DOES sound like a good idea.
And IN my shoes. Sigh.
For the cat moms (or whatever kind of animal your baby is)
Happy Mother’s Day to the forgotten — the mothers of the furry ones. The mothers who will forever answer the question “When are you going to have kids?” with the answer “I have cats.” Those of us who are amazing at raising furballs, who read the labels on cat food, who don’t just think of their animals as pets.
Kitteh mommy and proud of it!
We’re just as mother-y as if we’d given birth, but with some extra perks. My babies will never borrow my car, go on dates with strange boys, never stay out all night or get arrested. I can lock them in my house without DCF coming after me.
I worry about them as much as I would if I had a human baby, obsessing over odd behavior and whether it’s vet-worthy. And I can do this, because I know them so well that I know when one is even the slightest bit off.
I’m not saying we’re better than human mothers, we’re just a different breed. It takes all kinds in this world and someone’s gotta do it. Kittehs need love too. And they give it back ten-fold.
So to all the mommies out there, the kitty mommies, the dog mommies, the ferret mommies — whatever kind of animal mommy you are — HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY. Even if your cats forgot to get you a card (*cough cough* thanks a lot, boyfriend), I salute you.
And Happy Mother’s Day to the Evil Stepmother (who is not really evil at all), who is also a great kitty mommy and who was the only person on the planet who could have ever convinced my dad to get a cat.
And last but by FAR not the least, Happy Mother’s Day to my own awesome mommy, who not only raised a good kitty mommy but who is a fabulous kitty mommy and grandmommy herself. I LOVE YOU!
The woman who gave this crazy cat lady life.
Taco, the Cat Jekyll and Hyde. Part 2.
So now you know why Taco is the devil incarnate. But for every evil, there is a good. Taco kinda takes both sides to the limit. He’s not big on moderation.
Taco’s saving graces:
- He doesn’t just sit down. He hurls himself onto the floor. It’s a melodramatic “WHUMP!”
- He melts. I have never seen a more melty cat. When he lays down he BECOMES whatever he’s laying on.
This is one of his deep sleeps.
- He snuggles with me at night. I’ll wake up to find him stretched alongside me, at which point I have to start petting him because he’s so damn cute. Then he starts purring, which wakes Jason up because he’s like a motorboat. This is a point of contention between us, I find it soothing. Last night he melted on my chest. This MAY be why I am so tired today — who can sleep with a PURRING KITTY PUDDLE on you?
- He purrs all the time. I love it.
- He happy meows. Whenever you touch him, he does this thing that is a mix between purring, meowing, and that weird “MRRRRP” noise cats do. My favorite is when he does it when he’s half asleep, it turns into a gurgling yawn.
- When he sniffs the floor, he comes back up with his mouth slightly open.
This kitty is “special”
- He can jump chest high. Literally. And when he does, he hurls himself into the air with absolutely no control, getting sideways and shit. He once hit his head on the bottom of the counter. It also makes for some very awkward landings.
- We think he’s part bengal. His fur is, as my vet called it, luminescent. His colors are so vivid. From afar he looks like a regular brown tabby but when you get up close you can see how beautiful he is (I realize I am like every other mother in the world who thinks their child is the best, don’t care, I’m right).
Both cats love my closet. Go figure.
- He’s the alpha male of the house, even though Moosh is bigger and older.
- Despite his alpha male status, he’s a pussy at the vet. He shakes the whole time.
- When he and Moosh fight, it’s like watching the Matrix.
- He can catch bugs like no other. Sometimes even at the expense of a stinger in the mouth.
- He is chock full of personality.
- He has a little freckle on his left temple.
- He hates when Moosh sniffs his butt. I do too. It’s so unbecoming.
- When he jumps on the bed, he usually does it with a full running start, a meow and a leap. Sometimes he overshoots.
- He has a brush-like thing shaped like an arch that is meant for the cats to rub on and therefore remove loose hair, but Taco puts his head upside down (JUST his head) and chomps on it. No clue why he needs to do it upside down or how it could possibly feel good in his mouth.
- Did I mention the melty thing? God, he’s cute. I mean, really cute.
SO PRETTY
At the end of the day, the cute thing is probably what saves his ass. Oh, and I love him. Jason does too, when he’s not giving him the silent treatment for peeing on the couch.
MEOW hear this! 