July 20, 2013

It’s the little things.

What I accomplished today: very little.

But I did manage to do something that, while briefly lived, was immensely satisfying. This little miracle? Making a cat sit on my lap. MY decision.

Of course, this doesn’t sound like a monumental deal. After all, cats sit on laps all the time. Taco forces himself on my lap at LEAST once a day. But this time, it was my idea, and he submitted. HE SUBMITTED!

Victory!

As all kitty mommies know, our children only do things that THEY feel like doing. How many times have you decided to feed your brats (when they weren’t meowing for it) only to have them take a sniff and walk off, only to return when they deemed it suppertime? Or had a bad day and wanted nothing more than a big, furry hug from your little one, but receive the cold shoulder. If they’re feeling particularly ornery, they’ll hide somewhere you can’t possibly extract them from.

So today, a day of accomplishing nothing but finishing season 3 of Breaking Bad (yeah, 2 weekends in a row – so irresponsible and flat-out lazy), I can take comfort in that for at least five minutes, I made a cat sit on my lap. Without struggling, of course, because heaven knows I’ve forced both the brats to cuddle for periods of time. No, the only glory is in a comfortably seated, even purry cat. And I did it.

Insert Rocky music here (Bill Conti’s Gonna Fly Now, if you weren’t sure which one).

July 14, 2013

The danger of Netflix.

I try not to watch a lot of TV. TV usually doesn’t capture my attention enough, and I always feel like I should be doing other things while watching it. Because of that, I don’t get into that many shows enough to keep watching them, or rather DVR them and watch them when I have time, which granted, isn’t that often. Summer always brings a bit of sadness, since it means my fave primetime shows aren’t on. Which really, all I can think of is Grey’s Anatomy at the moment. All I have now are Dance Moms, So You Think You Can Dance and Deadliest Catch are on my current watch list. While I enjoy all of these, there’s always a tinge of shame that comes with watching reality TV. I justify this by the fact that dancing is really an art form (one that you can’t fake and that takes incredibly hard work to be good at) and that crab fishing is the deadliest job in the world and therefore watching the show is a form of respect for hard working fishermen.

Where the true danger lies is in Netflix. Where you can watch all the shows that everyone talks about but you’ve never watched because they’re too far along before you’ve heard about them so think it’s not worth starting are available from the beginning.

And guess what happens then.

You spend your whole weekend pushing the cats aside and pushing back chores while you say “ok, just one more episode.”

Thanks, Breaking Bad. I accomplished nothing. And we’re only at the beginning of the 3rd season.

July 13, 2013

Crybabies.

I honestly think I have the loudest cat in the entire world. Taco seems to just get louder and louder and louder and louder. And NEVER EVER STOPS. Is it possible for a cat to get more needy as time goes on? It almost seems like the more attention we give him, the more he requires. I’m ok with the meowing sometimes, on occasion I even find it cute. But he overdoes it.

I’m heeeerrrrreeee

I hate to constantly reference the show My Cat From Hell, but I recently saw an episode featuring a cat that was overly attached to his humans and freaked every time they left…to the point that it would perch in the (2nd story) window anxiously awaiting their return…and once fell out. For all of my confidence in my feline knowledge, I really had no idea that cats could suffer separation anxiety. Hell, their attention span seems worse than mine, and that’s saying a lot. So I wondered for a bit if this was Taco’s problem. We already know his wires are a little crossed anyway with the Idiopathic Cystitis. But he has his brother all day, and while both me and the boyfriend work two jobs, one or both of us is usually home for a bit between them and even when we’re here more often than that, he still gets all in yo’ face.

I suppose I’m not going to get any answers. The boyfriend got so annoyed last night he told Taco “I can’t wait until you get old and lazy and do nothing except lay around all day.” I second that.

I wish he was like this more often.

But then, when that happens, I’ll probably want a kitten.

July 12, 2013

Decorating with cat.

I realized today that I have an awful lot of cat-inspired decor on my Pinterest.

Scaredy cat, more like it.

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.

So many kitties!

My artistic efforts vaguely paid off in an abstract kinda way…

Some may find it weird that we have our dead kittens ashes in his treat jar displayed (up high, of course, where the live ones can’t disrupt), but we don’t own a yard we could have buried him in and it just didn’t seem right any other way.

Whether or not the boyfriend agrees with me, that’s another story.

The boyfriend’s FAVORITE decoration…the litter box in the “dining” area.

July 6, 2013

I lied.

The cats were mildly disturbed by the firecrackers. Granted, it was mostly because some punk kids were setting them off extraordinarily close to my front door, so close in fact that the boyfriend and I stood outside and looked menacing until they moved on.

Still, they didn’t seem TOO worse for the wear. Unless you count the fact that the next morning Taco was nowhere to be found as I got ready for work, which is pretty much unheard of. I spent 10 minutes looking for him only to find him downstairs sauntering towards me as if he didn’t spend EVERY SINGLE MORNING EVER meowing at my feet while I try to dress myself at 5 in the morning.

Never a dull moment, eh?

Anyway, my 4th was mostly rained out. Plus I had to work in the morning. That was fun, especially after getting not a lot of sleep thanks to the aforementioned punk kids and their firecrackers.

Yay Florida.

Rain.

July 3, 2013

Reason #82373984 why I like being a cat mommy

As if one needs MORE reasons. I know I spend an awful lot of time on this blog bitching about my cats but really, I’m very happy to be a kitty mommy.

Why am I so appreciative today?

Well, for one, it’s been excessively rainy this week. My backyard was so flooded at one point today it started pooling in the tracks of my sliding glass door. This is nothing new, it’s Florida and it’s July. I should be happy it’s not a hurricane. What I AM happy for, and have covered before, is that I don’t have to take the cats outside for walks like this. But that’s not what I’m writing about today.

I read a story today (ok, I just skimmed the headline and a bit of the first paragraph, but I got the point) about how July 5th is one of the busiest days of the year for shelters accepting dogs. This saddens me immensely, but also makes me quite thankful to have my kitties. Of course, it’s not dogs’ faults that they’re scared shitless of redneck amateur pyro enthusiasts setting off millions of dollars of loud, obnoxious (and let’s not forget fiery) plumes of explosives. And it’s also not the fault of the canines that humans are assholes who take on the responsibility of pet parenting only to throw in the towel at a moment’s notice. Of course, since I didn’t actually READ the whole article, I may be completely missing the point, but after some conversations with friends who are puppy parents (the RESPONSIBLE kind) worried about the mental state of their furry children tomorrow, it’s not at all far fetched for me to come to the conclusion that I didn’t really need to read the article to figure it out.

The monsoons of the past week have also so generously brought loud, window rattling thunder, which apparently has a similar effect on the dog population. Personally, I find it soothing. My boys pay it no mind. Except for the other day when Moosh was dead asleep in a bed near a window, and a particularly loud clap of thunder shook the walls…he poked his head up, gave the window a “dude, I’m sleeping here” scowl, and took his time getting up to find a quieter spot where he could rest without his slumber being so rudely interrupted.

This is not a gloat post, I love animals. Much more than humans, in fact. Including dogs. I am just not a dog person. I find them cute and adorable and I think they’re wonderful for dog people. I just find things like this incredibly sad, and honestly, I empathize with the dogs. I don’t like loud noises either. And I also don’t like idiots who treat animals as if they’re not living beings who deserve every bit of care that a human child would. I’m also torn, because the type of person who would give away a dog as if it was a thrift store donation is not the kind of person who should have one, so in a way I suppose it’s kind of good.

All this being said, there are times when the cats go absolutely apeshit over a creak that I can barely hear, but at least I can rest easy knowing they’ll make it through tomorrow. Me, on the other hand…when the pyromaniacs come out, I’ll be safely inside, so long as a stray ember doesn’t burn my house down (I do, actually, worry about stray embers). I ooh and ahh over fireworks like normal people, but I like to enjoy those of professionals. From a distance.

June 29, 2013

Sharing my pillow.

Here I go, blaming the cats for things again.

My neck has been killing me since Monday. The kind of hurt that makes it almost impossible to turn one’s head. It’s been really fun checking my blind spot while driving. It’s feeling a little better today, but as I was going through my photos, I realized that I captured PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE pointing the finger straight at Moosh Moosh.

Yes, my “good son” is apparently to blame for my latest injury.

Exhibit A:

The photo below was taken last Saturday night. At the time, I thought, “How adorable. My son loves me SO MUCH. I’m so very lucky to have this lil snugglebunny in my life!”

I see now that this was step 1 of the evil plan.

Exhibit B:

Sunday night. Gettin’ all up in my bidness. I still vaguely found it cute, but I was wondering if he was trying to take over my pillow entirely. It was a bit uncomfortable for me, but he’s my kid, and mothers have to sacrifice for the greater good sometimes.

It was all part of the master plan. The way I see it, this angel-faced devil hatched up this plan in order to force me to sleep in an awkward position which he knew would result in a stiff neck, keeping me out of my night job so that I would be home to spend time with them and feed them at an earlier time.

On the other hand, he’s not that smart. Maybe Taco was behind it all.

June 22, 2013

New tool for crazy cat ladies…#INSTAVID

So I’m not sure how many of you out there are into all the “hip” new apps that the kids are using these days, but as a 31-year-old who still thinks she’s 12, I sure am. Most recently, my (slightly) younger and hipper friend introduced me to Snapchat, which, if you’re not a pervert or horny teenager using it for more risque purposes, seems to be a tool to send your friends stupid, goofy faces. Needless to say, I was an immediate convert. I also recently jumped on the Vine bandwagon. If you’re not familiar with this one, it’s just a way to share short, looping videos, mostly compiled of even shorter clips.

But NOW…Instagram, in all its Facebook-owned glory, quite smartly jumped on that shit. Yes, Instagram just put the short-lived Vine out of business in one fell swoop by now including videos. This is ok with me, I didn’t get close enough to Vine to feel mourn-y or anything.

What does this mean for you, you may ask?

It means now, not only can you browse millions of adorable kitty pics, you can now browse millions of kitty VIDEOS. Honestly, if any more technologies come out aiding my crazy cat lady-ness, I’m going to have to make it my full-time job.

And, of course, one can also post millions of one’s OWN kitty videos. I’ve held myself back so far and only posted 2. Should you care to see them, you can always follow me on instagram.

And if not (but you should), here’s a cute pic for the road.

Moosh says “Follow me, beyotch”

June 19, 2013

I feel like I have nothing to write about anymore.

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.

I suppose he doesn’t look TOO upset at being neglected here.

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.

June 16, 2013

The cats didn’t get Daddy a card.

Why? Because Mommy didn’t get one.

I caught Taco mid-tongue-out. It’s his impression of his father.

Happy Father’s Day to all of you dads out there. You got the easy role, though, so every day is really your day. No childbirth, no mommy instinct, no periods, no menopause. Oh, and you just look more dapper as you age but we women look more haggard. I guess I’m a little biased. I may not have given birth to the furballs but it’s clear who’s responsible for them.

To my own father, thanks for putting up with my teenage crap. But look how sane I turned out? With a few exceptions, of course. But overall, not too bad. Thanks especially for being my teenage disciplinarian. I can now appreciate that I had someone to be scared of, but my friend now that I’m an adult. I love you bunches.

By the way, would you like some cats?