The other day, a friends of mine, through a course of unfortunate events that unbeknownst to them, left their door able to be pushed open if the bolt wasn’t locked. This led to the door, either through wind or through cat, opening at some point during the night, so when they woke up, one of their two strictly-indoor cats was missing. The other one apparently had no desire to explore. There was no prior indication that the cat ever wanted to see what else was out there. The cat, as far as I know, is sadly, still missing, although she does have a microchip so if she is picked up for any reason, they’ll be notified. And they’ve alerted the neighbors, canvassed, put up signs, etc.
So what’s different between cats?
My cat at my mom’s, Fatty, LOVED to run out the damn door when he was younger. I would get up at 5am, open the front door to get the paper, and WHOOSH! Cat bolted. At the time, I didn’t have glasses and had never put in my contacts yet so I blindly and barefootedly had to run out in the dark yard to chase after him. He usually only made it to halfway around the house, where he would then turn and haul ass back inside. Sometimes it went on a bit longer than this, maybe under a car, maybe all the way to the backyard, but he usually didn’t venture much further even though a large, blind human was chasing him. I think it was just him screwing with me. Nothing is funny at 5am, especially not chasing a cat while stepping on slugs.
Long ago, when we were just a one-cat household, I didn’t quite latch the door when I left for work and the boyfriend woke up to a wide open door. He ran out to find Moosh sitting on the porch chair. The porch is not enclosed, and he could have gone anywhere. It seems the porch was enough for him.
There was one other time we woke up to a wide open front door. Neither Taco nor Moosh had any interest and in fact, seemed to be as far away as possible from the door. My assumption is that they associate fresh air with the vet, because they only start howling in the cat carrier when we step out the door. Neither of my cats are chipped. This is probably very bad on my part, but since we only have two doors, and they are TERRIFIED of the sliding glass door and run away whenever it’s opened, and they don’t have any desire to go out the other one, I figure they’re not going anywhere.
But what governs cats’ desires? Why did Fatty rush to get out while Taco has never set foot? Taco’s mom was, as far as I know, feral. If anything, he should have more internal desire to roam. And all the cats I speak of are fixed. So it’s not a desire to mate (that would speak for itself).
You cat people reading this…what are your experiences with indoor cats and the outdoor world?
So you’re totally going to think that this is brought on by Shark Week (which is this week, in case you haven’t seen the commercial with Rob Lowe that plays every 5 seconds on every channel that WILL make you want to feed Rob Lowe to a shark after about the oh, say, 59th time). Or because Sharknado 2 just came out last week. But it’s not.
When Sharknado came out last year, I thought it was just some goofy D-list movie. I was amused, but thought nothing of it.
Until I discovered that EVERY MOVIE ON SYFY IS EQUALLY OR MORE AS BAD AND AMAZING.
This obsession didn’t even start with shark movies. I think the first day I got sucked into a full day of bad movie marathoning, there was a movie about underground methane veins that threatened to destroy the world, and then another about the poles reversing and the world being overtaken by magnetic storms, so on and so forth.
I can’t stop once I start. These movies have completely unbelievable plot lines, horrible writing and even worse acting…but they’re like train wrecks. I can’t look away. There ARE a ton of shark ones. Some more out there than Sharknado, even. Sand Shark, anyone? Who fancies a Ghost Shark? SHARKTOPUS???
But you know what there is NONE of?
I have had exactly two cat sightings. One was a zombie movie, and it was a zombie tiger. Now THAT was an interesting point. If there ever WAS a zombie apocalypse, it would not be the pansy-ass human zombies I would worry about. Zombie tigers? Now THOSE you don’t want to eff with.
Still, it was just a cameo. And there was an alien movie yesterday where a cat made a cameo as the pet of a brilliant Russian electrician who barricaded himself from the aliens in some sort of electric cage.
That’s it. Apparently only sharks, alligators and dinosaurs are fearsome enough to be considered as bad science fiction fodder. Where’s Ocean Lion? I hear producers everywhere smacking themselves in the face, wondering why they haven’t come up with that. You’re welcome. That one’s free.
It’s entirely possible that because this new obsession is still in its infancy that I am just not aware of such compelling titles. If so, I humbly apologize. But SyFy better run a marathon of those soon, because as much as I think sharks are pretty darn neat, I’m getting just a TEEEEEENY bit sick of them.
I have a lot of excuses as to why I haven’t written a post in awhile. Work’s been super busy. It’s football season. Most importantly, the cats have been oddly…uninteresting.
I dislike excuses, although I am the biggest justifier you’ll ever meet. So I will not blame my non-writing on any of those things. Basically, I’ve been lazy.
So what’s new with me? The cats are still cats. The boyfriend is still the boyfriend. My fantasy football team is taking a dump as usual. Oh, the Bucs won 3 in a row. That was quite the pleasant surprise. Thanksgiving went well. I’m already procrastinating buying x-mas presents.
The weather is the biggest variable at the moment. I finally got out my “winter” clothes a few weeks ago and I have yet to wear any. It’s been cold (by Florida standards) I think a total of 2 days. I wore shorts today.
It IS having an effect on the cats. They’ve been very loud. One of them (read: Taco) knocked a cupcake off the cooling rack while we were at a football game. Cats have no business with cupcakes. WTF, cat?
So that’s the short and long of it. Maybe I should stop being so lazy and get back to my regular posts. We’ll see…
Funny how we all have our own thing when it comes to food. I personally have a love/hate relationship with it, as it makes me fat. The funny thing is, I’m a SUPER picky eater and vegan, so in theory, it shouldn’t. But it does. For 9 weeks straight I’ve been hitting the gym regularly and not drinking beer during the week and watched the scale crawl up 1 pound at a time, and it’s maddening. I wish that I could just view food as fuel and not, you know, want it. The boyfriend has the metabolism of a…um…something that has a fast metabolism. He eats whatever he wants and remains super skinny. I hate that. I was almost thankful for a stomach bug earlier this week that made me very unhungry for a few days.
But enough about me, this is about the cats. Moosh is looking pretty hefty these days. I know he’s not as active as Taco, which is fine, but he’s also the one who gets pushed out of his own food because Captain Stuffmyface already finished his and wants to hijack his brother’s. Which, in turn, leaves me with a very whiny kitty half an hour later when Moosh discovers that he has not, in fact, had enough to eat. So then I have to feed him again, and try to keep Taco away. Taco, despite eating two helpings, gained exactly one ounce in the year between vet visits. Go figure.
I wonder where picky eating comes from. I know I drove my parents crazy as a kid, because I was the only person on the face of the planet who didn’t like pizza, I refused to eat onions, and although I eventually came around to both of those, I still dislike mushrooms. It’s a texture thing. Moosh has been picky from the start. He doesn’t particularly care for wet food, and I went through a ton of brands of dry until he finally decided he liked one. Then Taco had to go on the crap prescription food, and fortunately, Moosh was ok with that, because it seemed like the organic food I was feeding both of them made Taco puke. Seriously, he is a beast of a puker. I have to give him Pepcid. So Moosh likes the crap food most. And he won’t even eat real turkey. Taco, on the other hand, will even eat TOFUrkey. So where does this all start? Is it in our genes or is it learned?
I realized today that I have an awful lot of cat-inspired decor on my Pinterest.
In order to attempt to judge if it would be over the top for me to gussy up my couch with cat pillows, I took stock of the things in my home that are cat-related. I THINK it’s not that bad.
Whether or not the boyfriend agrees with me, that’s another story.
Or maybe I do, but I’m too lazy to. I’ve been stretching my brain a lot at work lately. Most recently learning about SEO and keywords and overall expanding my marketing knowledge. So I think MAYBE all my creativity is used up?
It’s also overly hot out. I have a theory that this is melting my brain. I’ve been late for work (this is SO unlike me, I am a stickler for being on time – but only for work, I’m late to everything else), I’ve been unable to form simple sentences at times and even worse, I’ve been in no mood to play with the kitties. I think they’re feeling neglected.
They may also be feeling neglected because I’ve been going to the gym on a mostly regularly basis lately, which means that I’m gone from 6am until (depending on how busy Big Brown is) 8pm-ish. While the boyfriend stops in between jobs, there’s obviously nothing like mommy love. I’m still a little mad at them (and blame them for my being late for work due to sleep deprivation) for not allowing me to sleep in on the weekends, my only time to sleep in, but they’ve been somewhat cute so I try to make the effort to at least pet them equally.
Yup. Here comes the brain mushing. I just ran out of things to say. Sigh.
THEY decide the wake-up time.
THEY decide when it’s time to eat.
THEY decide when they want to sit on your lap.
THEY decide when you’ve been on the computer too long and alert you by sitting on your keyboard.
THEY don’t clean up their waste. The humans do it for them.
THEY allow you to pet them, but only until they’ve had enough, at which time they will make it clear by biting your hand.
THEY decide you need to rewash your clean laundry because it’s a perfect bed for them to shed on.
And Taco obviously fully embraces his king status, as evidenced by this picture.
My boys still continue to surprise me. With all the years of hijinx and mayhem, they’re not out of tricks.
In a half sleep this morning, I opened my eyes to notice the top dresser drawer was open. This is nothing new. Taco’s opened them before. I’ve never SEEN him do this, but he’s the little brat adept at opening things, so I have to assume. So I closed it. End of story, right?
No. Because then the scratching started. Being half asleep, I thought Taco was scratching to open it again. But he wasn’t there. So I opened it. Apparently, the little shit thought it would be a hoot to BURROW in my clothes and sleep there. Why this was a good idea, I’ll never know. I tried to get a picture but he moved too fast, once he decided to pop his head out and emerge.
At least he was sleeping and not meowing at me, I suppose.
I’ve been really sucking on the “writing new posts” thing lately. I don’t think this is because my cats have magically become well-behaved and wonderful. They have not. But I’ve been busy working and when I’m not, I’ve been too tired to use my brain.
My brain’s not working that well today, either, so I’ll just take you through pictorials of my Caturday.
I tried to sleep in, but my kitty alarm clock (that’s Taco) had other ideas. Moosh, bless his little heart, just stood on my laptop that was on the dresser and creepily watched us sleep.
Then I ran errands. I put back a crapload at Ulta, as it was, I spent a fortune on just the things I went there to buy. WHY ARE GOOD PRODUCTS SO EXPENSIVE?
Made a stop at the dollar store. Saw some really interesting things.
Why anyone would feed their cats food from the dollar store is beyond me. For that matter, the human food didn’t look much more appetizing.
Then I spent the rest of my day sitting on my ass with the boyfriend, who also sat on his ass. Bitching about the things we SHOULD have been doing. To my credit, I DID at least start the laundry, mainly because I have a lovely white sweatshirt with cat puke on it. Taco is such a joy.
What were the cats doing through all of this?
Sleeping, of course. God forbid they miss THEIR beauty rest.
We’d lock Taco out of the bedroom at night but he’d just claw at it, which is really more disturbing than the “wake-up-feed-me” meow. I wish someone made a white noise machine that counteracted bratty felines.
I recently discovered that my number of followers on instagram is pitiful. I have 84. I think a lot of them are fake accounts, too, although I’m not sure what their purposes are. I guess in hopes that I’ll follow back and they can give me a virus or something? Who knows. It’s not like I TRY really hard to get instagram followers. I do go a LITTLE hashtag crazy, but I see way more over-the-top ones. My friend, who is a crazy dog lady like I’m a crazy cat lady, told me last night she has 100 followers. Are there more dog people? Are my cats not cute enough for the cat people? This news is distressing.
In case you think I’ve lost my marbles, I’m not DEEPLY upset about this. It’s not keeping me up at night.
But…JUST LOOK AT HOW CUTE MY CHILDREN ARE!!!!
If you feel bad enough for me that you’d like to follow me (hint hint) it’s @meowhearthis.