Category: #kittyproblems

Kitty mommy guilt.

He luffs me.

I admit, sometimes I’m not the best kitty mommy. For example, I let the boys go without wet food for almost an entire week because I kept forgetting to go buy some (but then, I also forgot to take back my Redbox movies for a week too, I might as well just keep them at this point). In all fairness, there was a tropical storm going on earlier in the week that hindered errands a bit, and I do work two jobs. But I felt bad at my forgetfulness nevertheless.

Sometimes I forget to clean the litterbox. This is rather hard to do when there is a big stinko in there, but if there’s not or it’s covered well I’m prone to forget. Then I feel awful when I finally do and discover they’ve been slogging around in 10 pounds of waste.

I also don’t completely change out the litter every 2 weeks. I let it go sometimes. I’m pretty sure this is bad.

So forlorn and hungry!

When it’s kitty dinnertime, if I am doing something more important, I make them wait. I also don’t completely clean their dishes all the time, or at least as well as I should. This is shameful.

On occasion, I torture them for my own amusement, like holding them on my lap and laughing at them as they struggle to get away. The horror!

So tired from being mistreated.

Once, I left Taco in my car for 3 minutes while I went inside a store on the way home from the vet. It was a very nice and un-hot day, and I was parked in the shade, but I felt like I deadbeat mom as I waited in line and craned my neck to look out the window.

I’m not even remotely the best kitty mom in the world, but I justify it by telling myself that my love for them is so enormous that it eclipses my bad momminess. So far, that still assuages the guilt.

My Cat From Hell = Jersey Shore

So My Cat From Hell’s new season starts soon (if you haven’t seen it, it’s on Animal Planet, you need to watch). I love this show. I love quirky Jackson Galaxy, his penchant for for the rockabilly-ish and how he fixes even the worst of kitties, and makes the humans do actual work to ensure the kitty is living his or her best life. And chides them when they don’t put in the effort.

But essentially, I realize, I watch this show for the same reason I watch Jersey Shore: I feel better about my cats (and myself, when I watch Jerz). Jersey Shore is a bunch of pompous drunk morons who do really stupid things and say really stupid crap and get into the most ridiculous of fights. They make me feel better about ANY shenanagans I have caused by a night of too much Jager. Because as low as my lowest low is, I have never been that low. Nor have my lows occurred on such a consistent basis.

Moosh Moosh likes to play with…bachelorette party favors. So embarrassing!

While Taco is quite possibly the biggest pain in the ass the cat world has ever seen, he’s relatively harmless. I would really like to fix the whole “pee on the couch” thing but for the most part, his antics are merely annoying and sometimes border on endearing. (UPDATE: The boyfriend read this blog and voiced his displeasure with my lack of concern about the couch peeing. As if I like it! Honey. I’m just saying it could be worse. At least it’s a medical problem.) Despite being loud and overly curious, he’s lovey, he’s cute, and he never tries to scratch my eyeballs out. Moosh is a oddball, with his random licking of things and proneness to perching, but overall he’s a very well-behaved cat.

Takin’ it like a man.

These kitties on My Cat From Hell, they are crazy. The one that freaked me out most was the cat that launched himself chest high at his person. Moosh will launch himself on my shoulders, but not to go claw-crazy at my face. Most of the time the owners are well-meaning people, they just don’t understand cat like Jackson Galaxy.

So my confidence is boosted two-fold. One, my cats, albeit a little wacko, are not nearly as bad as these cats, which gives me a source of motherly pride, as well as a little bit of arrogance. Two, half the stuff Jackson teaches these people is stuff I already do innately. This makes me feel like I am MEANT to be a crazy cat lady. I KNOW cats. No special training needed. I don’t really know what this says about me, other than that I am a very empathetic person and I find cats more pleasant than humans. But I like to think this makes me special.

Just like I like to think that as long as I never show my “kooka” in a drunken haze on national television, that I am doing way better at life than a lot of people are. Although I rarely get embarrassed, because when you are as clumsy as me, you learn to be amused at your own antics. Otherwise I’d spend most of my life red-faced.

Bad hair day? Nope. Par for the course.

Cat chore of the day – nixing the claws.

Taco’s been a lil scratchy-scratchy with the ol’ clawsies lately, so today is SOFT PAW DAY! WHEEEEE!

When I was younger, I never dreamed my life would be so exciting at 30.

Moosh has never had an issue with the scratching. He’s very good about only scratching things he’s supposed to, although he does like to stretch up a wall here and there, but the claws don’t really come out.

Taco, being the bad son that he is, scratches wherever he pleases, although surprisingly not the couch (but he does pee on it, so I’m not really sure which is better). He ADORES my yoga mat. While I’m on it. Have you ever had to shoo away a cat scratching under you whilst doing the downward facing dog? Because I have.

I am heartily against declawing. It is not, as many people think, just an “easy removal of claws.” It is an amputation. It is exactly like removing the top joint of your finger. Even if it weren’t such a HORRIBLY INVASIVE SURGERY that was SIMPLY for the convenience of the owners, what happens if your cat gets out? Mine are actually terrified of the outside world (once, I left for work and didn’t close the door all the way, and the boyfriend, upon leaving for work himself, discovered the open door and Moosh sitting calmly on the porch chair — a porch that is not enclosed) but things happen, and I love them too much to put them at that sort of disadvantage. Nor would I want to dismember them.

Still not convinced? It’s illegal or considered inhumane and strongly discouraged in all of the following countries:

  • England
  • Scotland
  • Wales
  • Italy
  • France
  • Germany
  • Bosnia
  • Austria
  • Switzerland
  • Norway
  • Sweden
  • Netherlands
  • Northern Ireland
  • Ireland
  • Denmark
  • Finland
  • Slovenia
  • Portugal
  • Belgium
  • Brazil
  • Australia
  • New Zealand
  • Yugoslavia
  • Malta
  • Israel

That’s quite a list. WHERE IS THE KITTY LEGISLATION IN AMERICA, OBAMA???

There’s also possible behavioral changes, complications and nerve damage pain to think of.

So. There is no declawing in my house. There is only Soft Paws. Which really aren’t that bad. Glue in the cap, cap on the nail, hold the cat, release. Reapply as necessary. They can eat them and everything. Out of 3 cats I have applied them to, only one has had a problem with them. Surprisingly enough, it’s the good son, Moosh (who, we discovered,  doesn’t need them anyway). I’ll apply them, hold him for the requisite 10 minutes for the glue to dry, and then he will walk 5 paces, sit, and determinedly begin yanking them off with his teeth. He will sit there as long as it takes to get them all off. This is an amusing process to watch, as I am far more lazy than him, apparently. I don’t have that sort of drive. Taco, on the other hand, doesn’t even notice them. He’ll just go on about his day.

I call this portrait “I f#$&ing hate you people.”

Without further adieu, off I go to fit the bad son with his mittens. I am merciful this time, and picked clear instead of pink.

Taco doesn’t care. He loves his fancy nails.

 

UPDATE: After a lengthy hunt for the claw clippers (finally found under the sofa), the soft paws were applied with little fanfare, until the “holding for 10 minutes while glue dries” part. It would seem that being held by me is akin to being held against hot coals.

Talking to cats. Can’t help myself.

I talk to my cats. This may make me wacko, I understand this. This is ok with me. All in all, it’s probably a lot like talking to one’s self.

Moosh giving me the “whatever” eye.

I do know that both Moosh and Taco respond to the sound of their names.

If I coo “Mooshymooshmooshy” real low, Moosh gets all lovey, and will come smush my face, but first he’ll “mrrrp” at me.

Pay attention to meeeeeeeeee

Taco, as per usual, will respond to his name loudly. A conversation between Taco and I goes something like this:
“Meow!”
“What?”
“Meow!”
“What?”
“Meooooowwwww”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT???”
*jumps on lap, usually at an inconvenient time*

I will discuss things with them as if they understand. I tell Moosh that if he doesn’t finish his food, his brother will eat it. Then I tell Taco not to eat his brother’s food (neither takes my advice).

When Taco takes a dump, I tell him how much it stinks, and ask him what the hell he ate to produce such disgusting waste, as if he has a choice in the matter of his food (somewhere, subconsciously, I think he’s stealing shit from the fridge, I guess). He ignores me.

When they’re fighting, I tell them to cut it out and be nice to each other, or to play nice. They stop to look at me for a split second, then immediately resume fighting.

I ask them why they’re not bald, since their hair is EVERYWHERE, mostly stuck in my eyes. Also met with ignoring.

I alert them when there’s another cat or a bunny outside: “Ooooooh it’s a bunny! Look at the bunny, kitties!” while pushing them toward the window to look. This sometimes gets a response in the bunny’s direction, or prompts them to rub on my legs.

This is prime snuggle time.

Most embarrassing is snuggle talk. This is when I talk to them like they are little babies while making myself sound incapable of brain activity. “Who’s my boo-bear? Who likes a snuggle? You’re my cute-face snugglebunny. You love mommy, don’t you? Mommy loves YOU. Look at that belly! You’re so silly.” As hard as this is to admit, I can go on like this for hours. You know your relationship with your significant other is solid when you can do all of this in front of them without care, and without them batting an eye.

The point of this is, science tells me that they don’t know what the eff I’m saying, that it’s the tone of my voice, blah blah blah. But then, science also tells me that cats only meow at humans…so isn’t that equally as futile as me talking to them? Taco doesn’t have tones in his meows. It’s either WHINE or OMG EMERGENCY. If there was an actual emergency, I would have no idea, because I gave up on running out to find out what’s wrong with him when he makes that cry, because there is never anything wrong with him.

It’s not like people really listen to each other anyway. At least my cats cock their head and give me the impression what I’m saying is important. And for that, I thank them.

The Agony of the Cat Tree

My cats need a cat tree. I am sick of them perching on things they shouldn’t be perching on. I feel they are desperate for a cat tree.

Moosh on a box.

First of all, can anyone tell me why cat trees are so expensive? It’s wood. And carpet. I haven’t priced out carpet or anything but wood ain’t that bad. I’m a handy girl. I craft. I refer to Home Depot as Michael’s on Crack.

 
I have a Dremel, even, and a fancy accessory kit for it. I can use a real drill, too. I can sand with the best of them. Even with a power sander. Yup, I’m that awesome.

 
I am a little iffy about using saws. As a superklutz, a spinning wheel of doom may not be what the doctor ordered. Even the boyfriend cut his knuckle on one, nicked a tendon and ended up needing surgery (he wasn’t even going to go to the ER, silly boy). But hey, they can do that for me at Home Depot.

 
The reason I’m thinking about making rather than buying is that I cannot find one that I like in a reasonable price range. I’m not really surprised. I can go to TJ Maxx or Marshalls or whatever and manage to only like the most expensive thing in there. It’s like this horrible gift I have.

This Wohnblock one is awesome. It’s also 1590,00 €. I have no idea what that converts to in U.S. dollars but it sure as HELL isn’t in my price range.


Catswall. Also super awesome. But guess what? ONLY AVAILABLE IN TAIWAN. Way to go, America. We can’t even win the cat tree race.

 
Back to reality, and the cat trees I CAN afford. They kinda all look the same, and boring. Also somewhat cheap and unsturdy, but that’s me being picky. Which brings me back to making one. I hate paying money for something that I feel like I can make myself. I think I’m going to attempt it today on my day off. I’ll at LEAST try the carpet store. If I don’t blog for awhile, it’s because I put a nail through a body part or something.

Cats and frogs and lizards, oh my.

What’s more annoying than Taco’s meow?

This cat is so loud.

Frogs. Well, actually, toads, I think. I think we have frogs, too (I found one on my beach chair when I went to lay out one day — while I was laying on the beach chair — it was the same color green), but the toads are the uglier and stupider of the two.

Here in Florida, the amphibians loudly enjoy a good rainstorm. And if you know Florida, you know we do storms right. It’s rained quite a bit in the past week. When you walk outside, all you hear is “GGRRREEAAAAKKKK GREEEEAAAAAAAK” — it’s really annoying.

But more annoying than the noise is the fact that they will jump into my house unnoticed when the door is opened for a second.

What’s more exciting than chasing a not-alive real-fur mousie?

Taken a split second before he batted it.

A living, breathing, jumping baby frog.

Sometimes I’ll catch the little idiots in time and scoot them out the door. Some aren’t so lucky to escape the “master hunters.” But I will not know about the not-so-lucky ones until I step on a half-corpsified dead one. Or half of one. Because this is the only other state that I find them in other than fully alive and cornered. I don’t know what the little carnivores do with them until they reach this state, but it is out of my eyesight. Kitty embalming? Who the hell knows.

I suppose I should be grateful. Fatty, in his younger and skinnier days, used to catch lizards, play with them awhile, and just as they were hard and corpse-y — place them thoughtfully in my bed as a present. THANKS. JUST WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED.

But really, stepping on a dead frog (toad, whatever) isn’t much better. This year’s croaking just started, so I have yet to have this honor. But I know it’s coming.

 

(If you’re wondering what happened to the blog challenge, the word of the day is “mushroom” and I DESPISE mushrooms, so I couldn’t figure out how to fit it in. Oh, I just did. Go me!)

Cats’ sixth sense: camera detection.

I bought my cats a 6-pack of those real-fur mousies. This is not a great vegan purchase, but they love them. This is why I have to buy more of them, because they disappear. Every once in awhile, we’ll find a cache of them hidden somewhere, like a closet or under the sofa, but when I LOOK in those places I never find them.

Taco will go apeshit over them. He spent an hour stalking, throwing and batting them.

“Go get the video camera,” I said to myself. “This would make a lovely video blog post.”

Except when the video camera goes on, all action stops. As far as I can tell, there is no way for the cats to actually know they are being recorded. There’s no flashing red light. No whirring of a shutter. It’s effing digital.

But they know! From all the video I have captured of my cats, one would think they are lazy slobs who move only to go sit in another area. I tried for 10 minutes and gave up.

Taco went from “whoa dude, I’m totally stoned” to “methed out mouse fiend” the SECOND I put it down.

They only move for still pictures.

They’re such a-holes.

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

My cats need more than 9 lives.

Maybe it’s just that mine are overly rebellious, but they seem to do things that will ultimately put themselves in harm’s way.

Examples.

Jager ate my hair ties. He also would play with shoelaces, get his claws stuck in them, then frantically try to jerk them out, getting himself more tangled and more freaked out, then retreating to an area I couldn’t reach him making it impossible for me to help him.

Moosh Moosh sniffed a lit candle and singed his whiskers.

Taco will scoop needles out of my pin cushion if I leave it somewhere accessible. He also finds it fun to pounce on my scissors while I’m in the middle of cutting fabric.

A few weeks ago, Taco went after a hornet that got in the house and got stung in the mouth. Today I found him with a spider that I have never seen before and had to google a bit to assure myself it wasn’t a brown recluse. I’m still not totally sure, but I guess I’ll find out if his flesh starts rotting away.

Taco had blood in his poo and when we took samples to the vet, they discovered pink sparkles. He had been eating the pink metallic fluff toy that Moosh Moosh loved. The ONLY one he really loved. Apparently pink sparkles will make a cat’s a-hole bleed. More than you wanted to know, I’m sure.

Of course we’re not about to fight.

I guess this is why they have 9 lives? Why can’t they play with the toys made for them to play with? There can’t be much nutritional value in a spider or a hornet. Why is there a cat toy for sale that causes bloody poop? WHY DOES TACO HAVE TO EAT THAT TOY? I don’t think Moosh really ever got over that loss.

I, on the other hand, do not have nine lives. These cats, they’re giving me premature gray hairs, I swear.

Cat food for thought.

Disclaimer: No hot dogs were harmed in the making of this picture.

I’m vegan. This is partially because I have never really been a big fan of meat, partially because I find slaughterhouse stories revolting, partially because I really like animals and helped along by reading Skinny Bitch.

It is absolutely AMAZING to hear the reactions from people when I tell them I am vegan. Sometimes they feel the need to defend their meat eating, as if I care. Some ask me “Well, what do you EAT, then?” Dirt. I eat dirt. What exactly do you think I eat? What do YOU eat that you think meat, dairy and eggs are the ONLY sources of sustenance?

My favorite is when people ask me if my cats are vegan.

You’re feeding me WHAT?

I am a lover of science. A devotee of evolution. A student of logic. I understand, know, and appreciate that cats are carnivores. Their little bodies are made to eat meat. I probably know more than I should about how they have different enzymes than humans do, to help process all the flesh they eat. How their stomachs are longer to digest, but have a smaller intestinal tract. Why would I buck the trend and try to perfect what Mother Nature already perfected? There’s a food chain. Some things are meant to be eaten. Some things are meant to eat. I could make the argument that humans are meant to be herbivores, but I’ll refrain here. Vegan conversion is not my goal, it’s my personal choice.

So yes. I feed my cats what they are supposed to eat. I am a little too squeamish to do the raw food diet, and with Taco’s Feline Idiopathic Cystitis, he’s on prescription food anyway.

Here is where I will rant. Cat food is CRAP. Total and utter crap. Grocery store brands? You might as well serve your cat roadkill that’s been sitting out for days and crapped on by other half dead animals. It’s disgusting. I’m sure there are plenty of people who think I’m ridiculous for only wanting to feed my cats organic food without chicken meal and grain and fill, but I wouldn’t stuff myself with fast food pink slime, so why would I do it to my cats? This prescription food he has to eat, it helps him not form crystals, avoiding a very expensive-to-fix blockage, but it is made with CRAP. My vet had an amazingly long discussion with me about my aversion to feeding him this ick. Because I trust her and because she had this amazingly long conversation with me about my aversion to feeding him this ick, I listened. In the end, he’s eating the ick. I’d rather not rush him to the emergency vet or have him die because I am too stubborn to feed him what is apparently the ONLY scientifically proven thing to help him. I tried feeding Mooshie the good stuff and Taco the prescription, but Moosh is a stupidly picky eater and will only eat the crap. He won’t even touch wet food, which I know is bad but I can’t FORCE him to eat it. I will shamefully admit that I have, once or twice, KIND OF smushed his face in it a little, just to nudge him into eating it. It doesn’t work. I just give them lots of water and leave it at that.

But I can tell the difference. Their coats aren’t as shiny. It’s amazing what they allow in cat food. It’s also amazing what they allow in human food, but hey, that’s why I’m vegan.