Category: #kittyrandom

This is what a Crazy Cat Lady’s workspace looks like.

I admit it. I decorate with cat. I don’t mean to. A leftover halloween decoration here, a funny kitty card there…it just happens.

Let’s start with the calendar.

Standard kitty calendar. Ok. Moving on.

Kitty knick knacks

One of my shelves. Yes, I know you’re probably looking at the FABULOUS captain’s hat first, but focus. Weird grinning cat my mom gave me, a black cat from halloween my mother also gave me, and a Toy Robot cat my friend and fellow crazy cat lady Yvonne gave me.

Cat on the phone. So silly.

Next up. My bulletin board. Here we have a funny cat postcard.  Next to that, a picture of Fatty and Little, and then a picture of my dearly beloved Jager who is no longer with us. I don’t have Taco and Moosh pics up, I see them enough. Look closely and you’ll see some George Michael buttons. And a Rays schedule. Yay Rays!

Ignore the easter bunny. Does not apply.

A view from the outside. I have thoughtfully placed arrows next to the cats. My lone lolcat is very reflective of my job, i.e. proofreading.

And finally, the piece de resistance. My crazy cat lady. Life imitates art.

Marvel at her glory!

Really, really weird cat.

So, Moosh. He’s a weirdo. After we initially fell in love with his face nuzzling, we got him home to learn his many quirks.

In addition to googly eyes, he also has one tiny fu manchu whisker on his chin.

First, he was kinda cross-eyed when he was younger. We really didn’t think he could see up close at all. It seems to have straightened out a bit but sometimes I still don’t think he can see up close. He also needed to try everything once. I found him climbing a wall. He singed his whiskers sniffing a candle. He’s never done either of these things again.

We also learned that he was a biter. If you walked away from playing with him, he would lunge at your leg and bite your calf. Not hard, but weirdly…like he would just open his mouth and aim at your leg. No paws, just like a shark. He’s a little better now that he’s older but every once in awhile he gets a wild hair and nips.

Most random thing ever: he licks blinds. I don’t know WHY he licks blinds, but he tends to do it more in mornings than he does at other times of the day.

He has the pussiest of meows. I know from past experience that he is capable of a howl, but he chooses to squeak instead. He is the bigger of the two cats and it’s hilarious to hear them whine together…Taco’s big MRROOOOWW to Moosh’s “mreep”

He gets what we call the “skinny face” when he’s happy. It’s hard to explain, but his face looks skinnier when he’s in la-la-land purring. It might have something to do with his eyes getting super dilated to make his face extra black (because, as you know, black is slimming), but then, he does that when he’s ready to pounce too. Who knows.

Do not want.

He loves the vet. He hates getting there, but once he’s there he parades around the exam table like it’s his time to shine. He doesn’t even mind the rectal thermometer.

He HAS to be up there.

He perches. You can’t just hold him. He needs to be on your shoulders. He’s really pretty good there, although he claws the boyfriend a lot because he never listens to me. You have to adapt to his climb and put your arm up to help. Otherwise a back paw will gouge your chest…or push your shirt down, putting you at risk for flashing.

I like these perches most of the time (when I’ve been dutiful about clipping his claws), there is nothing quite like walking around with a cat as a parrot on your shoulder.

I like my vet more than I like my own doctor.

The only reason I go to the same doctor is because I’m too lazy to find a new one, even though I don’t care for him very much. But vets, those are a different story. I am a veterinary snob.

Jager was my boo.

Jäger was the uber lemon cat. I say this lovingly. But he ALWAYS had something wrong. He had cat herpes. Yes, cats get herpes. It’s not like people herpes, it just had something to do with his immune system. He was always getting eye and nail bed infections (and it didn’t help that he got his claws stuck in EVERYTHING). I was like BFFs with my vet. Then he got really sick and in the process of figuring out what was wrong, I was there more than I was at home. The only reason I think I stayed halfway sane was because my vet was the shit. I ask a lot of questions. I want to know everything. And the kind of vet I like is the one that answers them and doesn’t treat me like an imbecile just because I google. Yes, I know I don’t have a veterinary degree. So sue me if I like to arm myself with information.

Also on the qualification list: must be a cat person. I have nothing against dog people. Dogs are fun and adorable. I’m just not a dog person. If I was a dog person, I’d probably want a dog person vet. We’re just different breeds.

Moosh, good son that he is, rarely has anything wrong with him, other than being a weirdo. So we went a long time without a vet visit after Jager died and we got Moosh. When it came time for his yearly exam, I found out my vet was gone. The new vet, he just didn’t do it for me. It’s not like he was a horrible vet — the bar is set very high and he didn’t quite measure up. The “it” factor wasn’t there.

Then I went on a new vet search (actually, first I tried in vain to find my old vet). I lucked out. My current vet meets my high standards. She answers my questions before I even ask them. And she ONLY treats cats.

Maybe I’m crazy. In fact, I’ve been told this a lot. But even if I don’t like my own doc, I can fend for myself. My babies can’t tell me what’s wrong with them.

Crazy is more fun than sane, anyway.

Crazy momma, crazy babies.

Why naming your cat is irrelevant.

Kitty eyes see all.

I’m pretty sure that not a single one of my cats has ever come out of their mother’s womb, been named something, and kept that name throughout their entire life.

Furthermore, once a cat name IS officially chosen and is permanent enough to be the one on file at he vet’s (although I have one that goes under a different name and one we had to change at the vet, read on), it is very rare that when talking to the cat, the cat is actually referred to as that particular name.

Shadow –> Baby
Ernie –> Chaos –> Fatty a.k.a. “Big Guy” at the vet, my mother refuses to let his official vet name be Fatty. In fact, she refuses to even call him Fatty.
Original name forgotten –> Mikey –> Little
Gus –> Jager
Oz –> Porkchop –> Moosh Moosh
Fernando –> Taco

Now, all of these names are used here and there, but most of the time either generic baby-talk names are instead or variations of the name. My favorites include Boo Bear, Boo Boo, Babycakes, Kittania, Snuggleface, Poopbutt, Bunny, Stinkers, Stinko, Fatboy or STOP IT NOW.

Moosh Moosh in all his glory.

Moosh Moosh, on any given day, could be Moosh Mash, MooshyMooshyMooshy, Mooshito, Mooshcakes, Mooshface, Skooshers, Skooshy, or  MoshiMoshi. When we got him, we really thought he was a good Porkchop until he smooshed our faces so much that Moosh Moosh just stuck.

Fatty? Well, that’s easy. Fat Fatty McFatterson, FattyCakes, Fatty Lumpkins, Fattilicious, Fatbaby.

Jager — Jagger, Woogie, Jagermeister or Cougar.

Taco, by far, has the most, I guess it’s just the easiest to mess around with — Taquito, Yablito, Tikki-Taco, Tablo, Cobblers, Jocko, Yacko, Taquerita, Toblerone, Yablo, Chimichanga, Blobblo or Taco-san.

And yes, I do speak to my cats in baby talk. Wanna make something of it?

Moosh Moosh ain’t havin’ any of it.

Cats as props.

I like to justify things. This is how I make myself feel better about decisions. I feel that my morals are fairly centered, so these decisions aren’t really earth-shattering.

I like to fuck with my cats. If you’ve ever put scotch tape on the bottoms of your cats’ paws and watch them run around (don’t lie, everyone I know well enough to admit this to me has done it), you’ll know what I mean. Look, I’m a vegan. I’m all for animal rights. I would NEVER do anything to harm an animal. But I’m not totally against using them for amusement here and there.

My justification? I feed them. I love them. I give them a home. I scoop their shit out of a box. No one disposes of MY waste like that. So every once in awhile, they get to dance for their dinner.

Exhibit A:Props in photos. They look miserable. But it’s a TINY moment of their lives and cats can’t recognize themselves in mirrors or in pictures so they don’t know to be embarrassed. That’s a scientific fact. At least the part about the not recognizing themselves. Lack of embarrassment is my own correlation.

Black cats make the picture.

He loved it.

Pose for the camera, bitch!

Exhibit B: Dressing up the cats. Who DOESN’T like to play dress up occasionally?

Pissed? Nah.

I know, white’s not slimming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Exhibit C: I have no photo proof of this, but I can exact hours of entertainment throwing stuff around for them to catch. Sometimes pretending to throw them, that always throws Taco for a loop. Always good for a laugh. This one is EXTRA justifiable, because as Jackson Galaxy says, you NEED to play with your cats for them to be happy.

PETA would probably have a shitfit about this, since they refuse to even call them “pets” — they’re “companions” — but I’m a good crazy cat lady and if I sometimes want to put a piece of harmless tape on my cat and watch him run like he’s on hot coals, I will, dammit.

Crazy cat ladies also collect crazy cat facts.

I shouldn’t know so many weird things about cats.

PEW PEW PEW

Most recently, I learned that vets have “donor kitties” that they use to get blood from when it’s needed for a transfusion. I don’t know how they sign a consent form, but apparently they don’t mind so much.

This got me thinking about the other weird things that I know about cats.

Taco’s insides.

  • The floppy pooch of skin on their belly is a trait from their big cat relatives…it gives them extra stretch when hitting full stride running.
  • I know what the inside of Taco looks like. It’s actually my desktop at work and my cover photo on Facebook. I find it intriguing. My vet was super excited to offer to email it to me, so I guess I’m not the only one awed by kitty vertebrae and undigested food (his little tail bones are so purrfect!).
  • Revolution (the flea medicine) can be given orally. It’s not recommended. But it’s totally fine if you accidentally put it somewhere lickable. They MAY foam at the mouth, but they’ll be fine.
  • Male cats were built really badly in terms of their urinary system. If you’ve ever had a male cat with crystals (and a big vet bill to go with it), this is why.
  • A sign of anemia in cats is pale gums. This is NOT a useful thing to know if your cat is black with black gums.
  • Speaking of black cats, they’re the least likely to be adopted. I don’t understand why ridiculous superstition has any place in modern society. Black cats are my favorite. Never had a bad black cat. I’d have a harem of them if it were up to me, but my boyfriend thinks it would be “too confusing.”
  • Despite the many representations of kittens lapping up a bowl of milk, it’s actually a horrible idea to give your cat milk. Also a horrible idea to give them a ball of yarn, which they will eat and then get stuck in their intestines.
  • Declawing is really really really BAD. It’s like removing the entire top of your finger from the joint. That’s not declawing, it’s an AMPUTATION. There are no health benefits for the cat and can, in fact, have a negative impact on the cat’s personality. It’s also illegal in most civilized countries. Just not the U.S. Shocker.

It’s a bird…it’s a plane…it’s a Moosh!

As you can see, I ask a lot of questions at the vet’s office (and my vet doesn’t mind, this is why I love her) and watch a lot of Cats 101 and My Cat From Hell. I’ll probably think of 10 more things the second I post this.