Category: #kittymommy
Victorious!
I have accomplished a major goal today, on my 3rd day of vacation, and it’s only 8:30am (I’m a morning person, what can I say? I can’t sleep in). This means that I can officially spend the day lounging around reading if I so desire, and ignore the to-do list I already made. I just started a good one. I laughed about the writer’s name but it turns out she’s rather good. Joanna Trollope. I think I enjoy British writers more than American. Something about their cadence, I suppose. I will, however, read anything and everything, so long as something hooks me enough to find out what happens.
This goal goes back to the cat tree. I’m sure you’re all quite sick of hearing about the damn cat tree, and unless something incredibly fascinating happens with it someday, this will be the last I directly reference it. My dreams of the cat tree were mostly for Moosh, as he is a “tree dweller” sort of cat. I base this diagnosis on more than a few facts: he perches on my shoulders, he’s been found on more than a few occasions on top of the cupboards (once IN the cupboards), and he sits on top of the office bookcase. Taco just likes to go wherever, being UP on things isn’t that exciting to him. He just wants to be where the action is. I thought he’d enjoy the scratching stuff, though.
But guess who’s been using the cat tree more? Taco.
I don’t know what he’s looking at. Maybe the stickers numbering the pieces that REFUSE to come off. Ugh.
At first, I thought it was just him being a brat, taking over whatever space Moosh would want, but I tried putting Moosh on the highest part of the tree and he would either just jump down or step onto my shoulders and jump to the ground from there. Moosh HAS enjoyed the angled edges of the tree on various other levels, as he likes to smush his face against them. It looks very painful to me but it seems to be enjoyable for him. Whatever.
Turns out he just needed to do this on his own terms. Today, he got on the 2nd highest level. I managed to coerce him up to the next with promises of face smushes. And he stayed! I even walked away and he stayed. And realized that he had a pretty freakin’ good view.
King’s view.
MOMMY ALWAYS KNOWS BEST, BEYOTCH.
Update: For no apparent reason today, I caught Moosh on top of the fridge today, where he hasn’t been seen in months, who then, upon being spotted, made a run across the cupboards, then back again to the fridge and then down the minute I sat up to attempt a picture. This is what the cat tree was supposed to solve. Sigh.
Old cats and ex-mommy status.
My mom works weekends, because she has her awesomely fabulous bookstore to run (Sam’s Books, in Oldsmar, Florida, if you’re ever in town, please check her out). My birthday is Saturday, and of course this is a busy day for her, so we celebrated together yesterday. My mother is probably the reason I regard birthdays so highly, as she always acts as if mine is a holiday. We went out to lunch, browsed around a bit then went back to her house where she had a piece of vegan cake waiting for me. Man, I love cake. I love cake like a fat kid loves cake. If I ever lose that 20 pounds (that would still keep me in a perfectly normal range, so no, I do not have body dysmorphic whatever) that I’ve been threatening to lose for the last 16 or so years, I’m going unvegan for a day and eating an entire Publix cake. Because Publix has the best freakin’ cakes ever. I also got to grab a big stack of books which means I will probably not get all the things accomplished that I threatened to accomplish on my time off.
Being at my mom’s means I get to hang out with my kitties. Who I realized, are really now her kitties. Although I picked them both out as babies and was their mommy for the majority of their lives, I am only mildly tolerated now.
Even Fatty’s eyes are fat. I heart my big boy.
Fatty, my fat fat fat baby, doesn’t even do our choreographed stretch when I pick him up just the right way anymore. Of course, he IS turning 16 this year. And he wasted no time gaining back all the weight he lost when he almost died of anemia.
The other baby, Little, has never really been anyone’s cat. He keeps to himself. He allowed me to pet him briefly but was quite clear in letting me know that he was only humoring me.
There’s something sad about ex-mommy status, even though I have two boys of my own at home. I would probably be more upset about it if I didn’t take into account the reasons that I didn’t uproot them when I finally moved out of my mom’s house at the ripe old age of 24, those being that I rent (they’ve been freely allowed to scratch everything forever) and I didn’t want to separate them from my mom, who of course is an amazing mother (obvs, you can see how well I turned out). She’s good for them. I’m ok with being the sister. Besides, color-wise, I have an identical set here (black and a tabby). Life is good.
Side note, I got to go through a bunch of old stuff yesterday including my old dance costumes. I wish they still fit. I’m not kidding when I say I would prance around the house in them.
HOW CUTE IS THIS??? It ALMOST makes me want a kid. Almost. Not really. I just want to wear it.
Not so patiently waiting.
I finally did it.
I bought a cat tree.
I’ve shared this fact with a few non-cat people, and their response is: “HA HA HA HA That’s a f*$#ing waste of money, you FOOL! You could MAKE that!”
Well, DUH. I’ve been saying this forever. And what HASN’T happened yet? It hasn’t been made. Which is precisely why I’ve waited until my cats are almost 5 and 3 years old to buy one. My poor, deprived kitties. All because Mommy is too freakin’ stubborn to go against her DIY ego and buy one. There’s also the fact that the nice ones are kind of expensive, and I’ve never really found one I liked. But I found one. Yeah, it’s a little more expensive than the traditional carpet-y ones, but it’s nice. It’s not AS nice as the ones I wrote about before, but it’ll do. Before I put the ol’ credit card number into the interwebz, I did way more research just to see if I could possibly find another one that I’d like better. Because it’s always my luck that as soon as I buy something, I find one much, much better. The only ones I found were, again, way out of my price range. Like this one from Urban Cat Design (in the NETHERLANDS):
Books and kitties. Two of my favorite things. (Real books, because this lady will NEVER own a damn eReader.)
So I bought the one that I talked about buying recently, the one that was reasonably priced compared to the ones I LOVED but couldn’t possibly justify spending so much money on. AND…this lady never buys anything on the interwebz without a coupon. So I got free shipping and $20 off to boot. Uh huh. I’m an awesome bargain hunter on expensive things. Like the $160 boots I got for $40. I really thought that one had to be a scam, but the boots are fabulous.
Now I wait. Because it’s coming from California. If I hadn’t held off for so long, I might have it this weekend to put together, but the boys are going to have to wait for next weekend, since I rarely have time or energy during the work week. Oh well. Moosh has been entertaining himself just fine with the silver ball of sparkles that are mostly strewn around the floor right now and I really should take away from him because Taco will eat the sparkles. Taco has a, um, sensitive butt, to put it nicely. The sparkles make it bleed a lil. Not serious, but unnerving. It’s so unfortunate because it literally is the ONLY toy that Moosh will play with, and he plays with it SO enthusiastically. Kitty mom is conflicted. Meh.
Now he can jump on his OWN furniture. HAH!
Kitty mommy problems, whatcha gonna do? Ooh, another rap song. Bam.
What will YOU do with your tax refund?
For many, tax time means paying money. For me, it means a fat refund. See, I know that it’s just giving the tax man interest-free monies, but I suck at saving, so really, that money is in far better hands, interest or not. A few years ago I got screwed (they changed the tax laws, as usual, and those of us with two jobs who were unprepared for it got surprised) so now I take out extra every week to avoid such unpleasantries in the future. So I’m getting a refund. Most of this refund will go in the bank, but this year, I think I’m going to splurge on the kitties.
I’m finally buying a cat tree.
It’s a little expensive, but I never did get around to building the one I threatened to (see my post about it here) and I found one I like that’s not in the thousands of dollars.
Does that cat have 6 toes??? I love Hemingway cats!
It’s got sisal in the bottom nook and a pad on one part.
This is the Sebastian something-or-other. It’s not that much more expensive than the traditional trees of this size (I use the term “tree” loosely here) and it fits with my modern Ikea look. I’m excited. I already filed my taxes even though the IRS doesn’t start processing them until the 30th.
I showed the boyfriend last night. His response was the “dismissive head nod/half eyeroll/smirk.” This pissed me off. For someone who is always complaining that the cats take over the house, I thought that he would LOVE that I’m taking his feelings into consideration and buying something that looks more like furniture than a tacky carpet tower. I had already had a few adult beverages at this point (it was Friday. I had a long week.) and so of course, I felt compelled to respond with something like “way to be passive aggressive,” he said “don’t the cats already have enough shit” and then I stomped outside. By the time I finished my smoke, I’d already decided to leave it be and continue on with my plans. My best friend once told me the best way to get things done around the house is to just do them and then act as if whatever you did has always been like that. It works. To my surprise, the boyfriend APOLOGIZED for not being more excited about it, and told me that he just didn’t want to see me waste more money on crap the cats will ignore. I was very touched by this. A significant other recognizing FEELINGS! Even after almost ten years. I almost cried (seriously, but I’m also PMSing, so I think hormones had a little to do with the threat of tears).
Even if the cats ignore it (which I doubt, Moosh’s new spot is on top of the bookcase attached to my desk, on top of a scanner he probably shouldn’t be sitting on – Moosh is a serious tree dweller), it’s still useful as furniture, and for about the same price as a bookcase from Ikea. So really, what do I have to lose? My Mooshie gets to climb something he’s actually allowed to, and Taco, well, Taco’s favorite sleeping spot is anywhere that I wanted to sit. His other favorite spot is in my face, and I don’t think there’s a cat toy in the world that can replace that. He’s just annoying.
Am I crazy?
Moosh on my desk. In my face. As I’m writing this.
The question of the day: Did the cats miss us?
Unequivocally, yes.
Too much, in fact. I was pleased to be greeted by both boys. I dropped the boyfriend off at a friend’s house (prior plans, but I just wanted to go home) so I am currently the only target of affection.
LOOOOOOOOOOVEEEEEE
So much affection. Taco has followed me meowing for 3 fulls hours now. Everywhere I go, there he is. It’s ridiculous. I mean, I’m glad they weren’t mad at us for having left them for 3 days but I didn’t expect that Taco would be so concerned upon my return that I would leave again. Moosh has been lovey but modestly so, especially in comparison to Mr. Attached To Mommy’s Hip.
This was my greeting. Plenty of meowing as well.
I missed my babies too. My mom totally spoiled them. There’s so much food in their bowls they could eat for a week. This is why her cats are overweight. She’s always very concerned about kitties going hungry. She worries about this with humans, too, which is why she brings me vegan cake all the time, usually right when I have sworn to eat healthily (even though being vegan, my food intake is generally on the healthy side, except for my weakness for french fries).
But I do really appreciate her feeding them and checking on them each day. Who knows what kind of trouble they would have gotten into otherwise? My puke-soiled duvet cover is in the dryer as we speak, and if that’s the worst that happened, I’m vaguely ok with that.
We both work two jobs…you’d think they’d be more used to us NOT being home.
Beach view
Either way, I’m glad to be back, even though it feels like I never left. In case you’re wondering, Ft. Myers Beach is a very lovely destination. I don’t know what it’s like for spring break or during the summer but it was mostly older people and Germans. I don’t know why that area attracts a plethora of Germans, but MAN, is it ever full of them. I wish the weather had cooperated a bit more, but it was pretty and it’s always nice to get away with the boyfriend.
Off to the beach…without the kitties *gasp*
The boyfriend and I are taking a minitrip. We’re not going far (we live in Florida, after all) but it will be away from the boys. Although they will be cat sat by a most dependable kitty mommy (my own) I worry about the trouble these boys will get into. It was suggested to me that perhaps my cats aren’t really as weird as I think they are, that I’m such a crazy cat lady that I watch them more closely than normal people watch their cats.
This may be true. But part of the reason I watch them so closely is because I’ve had so many crazy incidents when I don’t. Normal people’s cats don’t eat the handles off garbage bags. Taco is seriously a bad toddler who does things merely to get attention. Actually, now that I think about it, he’s at his worst when he’s right in front of my face. THAT’S when he uses his reserve of “bad cat.” Just a second ago he started batting at the laptop cord that’s sitting next to me. It’s normally well within his reach and he doesn’t bother with it. Now it’s something that he can demonstrate his brattiness on with an audience.
So maybe they’ll be fine. They tend to half-hide from my mom anyway. For two cats who have never known anything but love and affection from everyone that’s ever come in contact with (and considering that the two people that come in contact with them most often sometimes use them for their own amusement), their aversion from people other than me and the boyfriend is baffling. Moosh will be good. At 4, he only feels kittenish half the time. He will, of course, miss “Mommy Moosh Time” but he’ll forget by the time we get back. I thought he would hate me the time we went to Hawaii and boarded him for a week, but he acted like no time had passed and he’d been at home all along.
I’m sure they’ll be upset that we’re not taking them along to what would be nature’s litter box (by that I mean the beach in general, it’s not like we’re going to some el grosso beach) but they’ll live, so long as my mom can figure out the litter genie (they didn’t have diaper genies 30 years ago, it seems).
Taco is currently putting his paw in my glass of water and drinking it from his paw. He has a giant water bowl about 10 feet away. I’m going to have to start buying sippy cups. Those paws have been in poop. Gah.
Laser kitty PEW PEW PEW
The chronicles of Taco are neverending.
So I decided that since Taco is having a flare-up, we should try the laser therapy again. It’s not as expensive as you’d think, and my vet said that she has had success with cats who have worse flare-ups than Taco. Last time we only did one session, this time we’re going to try for the recommended 2-3. The weather is crazy windy out right now and for some reason that seems to freak Taco out more. I mean, I don’t like wind either, but it doesn’t cause MY mental issues to flare. Then again, my hormones do that for me once a month. That’s totally another story.
Cat got your tongue? Har har har.
Taco is again a laser kitty. I don’t know why laser sounds amuse me so.
I also went to the pet store yesterday, a real one, not one of those big fancy “we don’t really know anything about pets” places. I love small businesses. I swear, I have been a cranky old lady since I was 14. I refuse to shop at Wal-Mart. Anyway. I needed more cat urine cleaner. The one that I had sucked. Or Taco’s pee is just really really strong. Anyway, I got a new kind (still smells like pee, this last episode of his was a doozy, none of the other couch pees have been this strong especially after cleaning, AND it was on the boyfriend’s favorite seat…yeah, that went over well). And I talked to the pet store guy, who was super friendly and you could tell knew what he was talking about, like the kind of people who own businesses because they actually give a shit about what they’re doing rather than making a boatload of money. He made a lot of suggestions. And they were all things I’ve already tried. I could see the surprise on his face, I don’t think that he’s ever had such a thorough crazy cat lady asking for help before. He quizzed me on my number of litterboxes vs. number of cats (2 cats, 3 boxes) and then he THOUGHT he was going to stump me when he asked if I used 3 different kinds of litter…and the answer is yes. Yes, I buy THREE different kinds of litter. I felt like passing this test elevated my crazy cat lady status. Unfortunately, it doesn’t get me any farther in fixing Taco. When I say I have tried everything, I really really mean I have tried everything. I even spray the couches with cat repellent.
Here’s what I did do. Because, you know, my parents always taught me that you should always ask for what you want, because the worst answer you can get is no. So I emailed the cat behaviorist people. I told them I can’t afford their $225 phone consultation. I told them that I have done everything I can possibly do and I just want to help my kitty. So I threw it all out there and asked if I could barter. Granted, my skills may not be in their demand (I work in marketing, they already have a really nice website and it appears they don’t need any help getting business) but I can do copywriting, proofreading, research…I even threw in fantasy football tips (although this may not be the year to ask me those, I’m doing miserably). I did leave out crafts, I’m not sure “decoupauged tissue box” is a viable offer. I haven’t gotten an answer. But even so, I tried. I didn’t ask for charity, although I certainly would accept it from them if they offered. So if they say no, I’m no worse off than I was before. It at least made me feel good, because I’m not giving up. I’m hard headed like that.
I just wish extreme love was enough to fix. In a perfect world it would be.
Kitty mommy vent time.
I will never understand why it takes Taco two full days to stop hissing at Moosh when he gets back from the vet. It’s not like his scent isn’t EVERYWHERE. Sometimes I think they’re really smart, and sometimes I agree with the boyfriend about them having pea brains.
How can he not recognize his brother but recognize the couch as a place to pee?
This is where I vent.
I have no help with this couch pee thing. My vet has helped with all of the medical issues possible, and I’ve taken all the advice possible about helping him stay stress and FIC-flare-free.
Yet he peed on the couch again the other day. I don’t even really want to talk about it, because that means facing it, and yeah, I know, it’s a COUCH, but it’s OUR couch and while I’m totally ok with my crazy cat lady status, I’ve completely accepted that IS my life, I’m not ok with my house smelling like cat piss. I’d like to have people over. I’d like to utilize the couch for more than just the puppy pads that are currently adorning it. I’ve done everything to stop it. I don’t know what else to do. It’s a fairly new couch. Do I just accept that it’s never going to stop? Do we just get rid of the couch? What if we have it professionally cleaned and all and he pees on it again? What if we get rid of the couch and he just pees on the loveseat? I’m fully aware that there are worse problems in life. But this is MY life and I want a damn couch I can entertain people on. *I* would like to sit on my couch. MY usual seat was on that couch.
This brings me back to my failed bid at My Cat From Hell. When they responded that they wouldn’t be coming to Florida, they said that Jackson Galaxy sometimes does Skype consultations, and I could try. So I did. I got a response yesterday that he is currently filming and not available, but referred me to another cat behaviorist. So I checked that out. It’s TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS for a HALF HOUR PHONE CONSULTATION. I’m in the wrong effin’ business. Do I have to go to college for that? I’m already the go-to cat problem person for people I know. I need to start charging. Not trying to brag or anything, but over the years I feel like I’ve amassed enough cat knowledge through personal experience and my undying devotion to the babies that I’m probably pretty qualified already.
Jockeying for position on Ikea boxes.
Wow, what if the reason I always get the lemon cats is because one day (today?) I realized my calling? I’m 30 years old and I still don’t know what to do with my life. Maybe I’m supposed to be the girl Jackson Galaxy. I DO have tons of personality and tattoos. And I can thing of worse things than dealing with cats all day. And I could be MEAN to bad kitty owners, because I would get paid upfront, like these $225 consultation people.
But first, I need to fix this couch thing. So far I can’t find an answer. This is one of those times where I just want someone to tell me what to do, and I do it, and it works. This one is over my head.
So if anyone knows anyone that will help me help Taco to stop peeing on my couch for significantly less than 2 hundos, let me know. I’m tired of thinking about it.
Mommy instinct is fallible. And…I think it’s gonna be one of those months.
In case you were waiting with baited breath to find out how Moosh is…
He’s fine. This has been confirmed with a vet visit. He did pee on Monday so I wasn’t worried about crystals anymore but since hanging out in the bathtub randomly isn’t always a good sign either, I decided to take him anyway. This decision was partly based on the fact that he was also overdue for his yearly visit. That fact made me feel like much less of an overreacting freako crazy cat lady.
Listen, if there’s one really good thing you can say about crazy cat ladies, we know our kitties. (Well, that and we take an awful lot of cat pictures.) When something’s off, it’s off.
Such an angel.
But in this case, whatever was making Moosh more weird than normal had run its course by this morning, because he was acting perfectly fine. I rushed home from work, lured Moosh out from under the bed with treats and tried to stuff him in the carrier before he was fully awake. Didn’t work. The boyfriend came home just as I was attempting this lovely task, guess who got to help? And guess who got clawed? Sorry baby, thanks so much for the help though!
For a laid back cat, Moosh sure hates the cat carrier. He NEVER meows, except for when he’s hungry, and then it’s a wussy ass “meeewp” but in the carrier, he’s like Taco times 10. He’s really got quite a range.
Escape while you can!
Anyway. He’s all normal. Including his weirdness, he’s back to his normal weird, instead of the weird weird. The vet pointed out that it may be the changing weather or changing furniture. Probably has something to with the glass breakage too. I found another giant chunk of it tonight. Not quite sure where that was hiding. These boys are lucky they’re not sliced to hell. Taco, on the other hand, didn’t even eat tonight because he’s too busy hissing at Moosh. This will last 3 days. Come ON, Taco, it’s only your freakin’ brother that you see every freakin’ day. He can’t possibly smell THAT different. Starve, then. See if I care. You eat your brother’s food all the time anyway. It’s about time you know how he feels.
Taco hiding out in the closet from Moosh. THAT’S a switch.
My boys are crazy. Just like their mother.
Oh, and then I got home, and decided to check my coolant levels because it smelled like burning antifreeze. Surprise! There’s a leak. I just got a new radiator, I am going to assume that is the most expensive thing that would cause a leak and I can rule that one out, so we’ll pretend for now that it will be a cheap fix. See? Power of positive thinking in effect. At least my babies are healthy. And I have a boyfriend willing to take a claw for me.
And I got to gush over these adorable babies at the vet!
Squeal!
Kitty mommy stress
The boyfriend and I went to Ikea this weekend to buy a new desk, one that makes me feel more grown-up (I’ve had my old one since high school) and a bookcase. This weekend has been a whirlwind of putting stuff together and reorganizing (not even remotely finished with that).
This may be me overreacting, but Moosh is acting weird. I mean, he’s a weird cat anyway so that alone wouldn’t be cause for alarm, but I also noticed that when I cleaned out the upstairs litter box yesterday (which I’d forgotten to do all week), the one that Moosh frequents, there was no pee. None. There was enough pee in the downstairs one that it could have been the work of two normal, healthy cats, but it struck me as odd.
But now I think he’s acting funny. I couldn’t find him this morning and finally did in Jason’s shower. He likes to jump in there, but usually right out. Not like, hang out there. Especially when treats are offered. Other than that he’s just acting funny. Sometimes he’s acting totally fine, and then he does random things. He spent all day under the bed, but I think that’s his new spot, so that part might be ok. And he’s eating fine. But there was only one pee in the downstairs box today and Taco peed on the couch again (that’s a whole ‘nother story) so statistically it seems likely that the pee in the box was Moosh’s, right? I pushed him in his a bazillion times and he keeps jumping right out and looking at me like I’m an asshole.
Kinda like this face.
If you have a male cat, you may already know about crystals. Crystals are a male cat owner’s nightmare. They stop up the peeing process and kitty gets sick. Really sick. And if you don’t get them to the vet in time, they can die. Best case scenario is a very expensive vet visit/stay.
I THINK, though, that crystal-inflicted kitties still go in the box and try. Moosh hasn’t. So I’m trying to not worry. The rational part of me (rarely the part that wins out in a worry situation) says he’s probably fine, he’s probably acting funny because a) when we came home from Ikea yesterday, there was a smashed glass on the kitchen floor, which I deduced that Moosh decided to go in the cabinet and at some point knocked out a glass that hit the counter on its way to the floor, so that may have freaked him out a bit and b) there’s two new, large pieces of furniture in the house that he doesn’t recognize.
I’m still worried. I will continue to worry until there is a properly soiled litterbox or until I take him to the vet. Worry, unfortunately, is what I do best.
MEOW hear this! 