April 11, 2013

The road to the vet is not a quiet one.

Yesterday was Taco vet day. Just a yearly checkup thing. He’s been fairly healthy. Annoying, but that’s not a health issue. Only in regards to my mental state.

Getting Taco to the vet is a two-person job. I knew he wasn’t going to go quietly, so I asked the boyfriend to do the prep work and have him ready to go. However, the little MFer immediately ran under the bed when the carrier came out, at which point it required both of us to tag team the effort. Upon getting him in the carrier, he immediately began thrashing about. Not even out of the house yet. Then the meowing started. Then the meowing didn’t stop.

It’s a 15-minute drive. Of loud.

Big Mouth in action.

Of course, I then began embarking on the futile effort of soothing him with calming words. And I continued to despite the fact that it did absolutely nothing. Although I did discover that he answered me in different tones here and there, which amused me. It seemed that saying his name resulted in a slightly lower volume, but only the 1st two meows. The 3rd went back to gutteral. We continued like this all the way into the vet, where he announced himself loudly upon being carried in.

Thus begins part 3 of the vet experience. The shakes. For all of Taco’s bravado, he’s a big freaking baby. He scrunches into one corner of his carrier and shivers. With an occasional loud meow, attracting all onlookers to comment on what an adorable cat he is, which at this point, doesn’t even fill me with mommy pride because now everyone can see what a wussy cat I’ve raised.

Part 4. The exam room.

Here he is on the exam table, refusing to look at me.

Still uncooperative. Still meowing. The vet and the vet assistant have trouble holding him. He is really quite a talented squirmer. I will give him credit for not lashing out with claws. Except that would kinda be less wussy. Despite his best efforts (and a loud, random meow on the scale), I learned that he was healthy, that he gained an ounce (this I don’t understand, he eats everything) and that he runs hot at the vet from all the shaking and flustering. Oh, then the vet noticed one pupil was larger than the other and suggested I take him to an animal ophthalmist (however the hell you spell that. I’m not looking it up.). I’m not overly concerned about this. My eyes do that too. My eye doc said it’s unlikely I have a brain tumor because I’d know it by now. But nonetheless, we threw on FeLV and FIV testing into the bloodwork just in case, because he’s only been tested for those once.

Then I paid the bill. Now I’m broke. That’s a whole other story for another post (although I will add that I wasn’t OVERcharged, he’s just expensive). And Taco still hasn’t gotten a job to pay his way. I’m not taking him to a cat eye doc until he earns his damn keep.

There was, however, this lovely view from the exam room. That cat looks quiet. Jealous.

April 7, 2013

Cat career hopes.

I’m 31. I’ve never really figured out what to do with my life, I thought that at some point it would just dawn on me. It hasn’t. Except maybe it has, but maybe it’s too late.

I’ve written about this before, but my desire has reawakened watching the new season of My Cat From Hell. I’d make an awesome cat behaviorist. I KNOW cats. This seems to be my only choice as far as cat-related careers. I don’t have the patience nor the desire to be a groomer, my heart hurts too much to work at a rescue organization, and there is NO FREAKING WAY I could do anything vet-related because I would cry. All the time.

Oh, behave.

Cat behavior? I can do that. It’s about the human element anyway, and who loves telling people what do to more than I do? I’m passionate, I’m intuitive, and I’d be helping kitties. And make bank (one cat behaviorist charges $250 for a phone consultation).

But I’m super stuck on how to do this. I googled my ass off. It seems my only options are 1) go to school for vet stuff (there’s no degree for cat behavior) or 2) start emailing every single cat behaviorist I can find to find an apprenticeship. Except there don’t seem to be any around here.

So what happens when you think you’ve found your life’s calling but can’t make it work? The only other thing that I think I’d love to do is be an NTSB investigator. I’m obsessed with aircraft crashes. I have been as long as I can remember. And I love flying. My dad’s a pilot. I’ve been flying since I was in the womb. I have some hours under my belt. I’m fascinated with how accidents happen. But it seems that is a little out of my reach as well. I’d have to finish getting my pilot’s license, probably get some degrees in aeronautics, you know, easy stuff.

Anyone have any advice? I’m a smart girl, but I have little drive, probably because I rely on my brain to skate through. Maybe it’s time I get my hands dirty. But how?

April 6, 2013

WTF, instagram?

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.

Such an angel. Not.

I’m his favorite bed.

Here’s looking at you, kid.

Moosh n’ boots!

Hello, cutie pie!

April 3, 2013

Cat workouts.

Before I start, just wanted to let me know you can follow me on BlogLovin’. <a href=”http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/6651639/?claim=8bknxa2nqnt”>Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>

And because I feel like putting very little effort into a post, here’s a super cute picture of Taco.

Taco’s workin’ on his fitness.

April 2, 2013

What does baseball have to do with cats?

A lot, if your team is the awesomest. By this I mean the Tampa Bay Rays. And before ANY of you say something shitty about our team’s attendance, come to Florida. We have an amazing fan base for being such a young team, but guess what? Everyone here is from somewhere else. Our stadium is full when we play the Red Sox, but who didn’t show up for the last few games of the season when the Red Sox were biting it? So much for loyal fans. So you can take your criticism and stick it where the sun don’t shine. And by young team, I mean that when I was born, there was no team. In fact, Tropicana Field wasn’t even built. I was a kid when it was, and it was the Thunderdome then, and I remember this because I danced in the grand opening event. And then it housed the Tampa Bay Lighting. And now the Rays. Who used to be the Devil Rays, but some whacko priest made a stink a few years ago and managed to convince them to change the name. Whatever.

Today is the Rays opening day. I am currently watching it in between jobs instead of going to the gym, which I feel slightly guilty about, but not really that much.

So what does this have to do with cats?

We have two mascots. I’m not totally sure what Raymond is supposed to be, but our most recent addition is DJ KITTY.

DJ Kitty is in the HOUSE!

Yeah. That’s fabulous. It started as a scoreboard gimmick, with a video of a cat in a Rays jersey DJing, because why not? DJ Kitty is now so popular that last year they made him an official mascot.

The REAL LIFE DJ Kitty.

EFF YOU, REST OF BASEBALL! Call me when you’re as crazy cat lady-friendly as my hometown team.

Oh yeah, and we have the Cy Young Award winner. Ya got that, Yankees? Oh, and is your pitcher on the cover of MLB2K13? I think not.

GO RAYS! GO CATS!

April 1, 2013

Hey corporate America…cut out the “hip” April Fool’s jokes.

Another April Fool’s Day is here, and with it brings a trove of companies trying to show the youth how “in touch” they are with them by making up random products and hoping enough people fall for it that they get some good viral marketing in. I suppose I can’t blame them for trying.

Cmon, Google Nose! Who were you trying to fool? The only way this one would have amused me would be if before you allowed people to “smell” things from the internet, you made them consent to putting their web cam on. Now THAT would be a joke I would get into. How many morons lean forward, close their eyes and try REALLY REALLY hard to smell a diaper? Post the stupidity. Then I’ll applaud you.

Among the jokes today was one that didn’t seem to get a lot of media coverage, but was the only one I mildly enjoyed, and only because there was a cat involved. Thank you, Sony, for not trying too hard. Simple really is sometimes the best way to go. This is the photo of a cat rocking out with a pair of M3-OW KittyCans. I even love the name they came up with. Again, simple. And cat-related.

I bet he’s listening to Weezy’s new album!

From the fake press release:

“Now that there are more households with pets than with children, we are targeting pet owners who want to provide unique entertainment experiences for their furry, four-legged family members,” said Tom Barret, lead engineer for the Animalia line. “Sony is known for making products that enrich our lives, and the Animalia line was developed for domesticated animals who also naturally seek visual, music and emotional experiences.”

March 31, 2013

The easter bunny is frightening.

My instagram feed today (and yesterday, for that matter) is overrun with pictures of cats wearing bunny ears (you must drug your cats to pull this off, really…I can’t believe anyone has a cat that mild-mannered to allow such a thing without a ruckus) and people’s children with various easter bunnies.

I’ve seen posts about how creepy easter bunny costumes are, but they usually reference pics from days of old. I think the kids were tougher then. But these pics posted today…the easter bunnies are just as creeptastic.

And WHY is the easter bunny wearing a vest? NO ONE wears vests, let alone a furry, long-eared animal.

I saw a Party City commercial with a guy in a bunny suit running around (I suppose it could have been a girl, whatever) and I was like “Why aren’t the children running away in terror?” I certainly would have been.

Furthermore, and I know this is not a new thought either, WHY exactly does the easter bunny bring eggs? Bunnies are mammals. They don’t lay eggs. Did the easter bunny eat a chicken? They also don’t have opposable thumbs, which I imagine would make it really hard to carry a basket. And where did he get a basket? And why does he give away chocolate representations of himself to be eaten?

Even FURTHERmore, as a non-religious person I am rather amused and baffled by the complete lack of correlation between Jesus’s resurrection and an animal that doesn’t lay eggs giving out eggs in celebration of said resurrection. I suppose the same could be said about Christmas, but at least that’s supposed to be Jesus’s birthday, and presents are to be expected on birthdays.

If I could only get one of these questions answered, though, I’m going back to “how the HELL did these cat parents get their cats to wear bunny ears and sit still long enough to take a picture?” That’s the million dollar question.

I can barely get them sitting still long enough to get A picture, let alone one with degrading props.

March 30, 2013

A Caturday Tribute to the Mooshbear.

I think I probably post more pictures of Taco. This is not because he’s my favorite, it’s because he’s overly photogenic. Plus, he’s always in my face so he gets more picture opportunities, and he’s better than Moosh at not moving at the exact moment the picture is being taken. Also, Moosh, being all black, tends to end up looking like a black blob depending on what he’s laying on and the lighting.

So, because I had a hellish week that fried both my brain and my body (and because I’m extraordinarily lazy today), I’m not writing more than these introductory paragraphs and some captions. Instead, I bring you a tribute to my Boo Bear, the snuggly, perching elder son.

Soft Paws only stay on Moosh for the 1st 15 minutes after I put them on. He methodically removes each one the second I put him down.

He looks weird and possibly dead here.

Yet another awkward pic. He’s obviously mid-bath, but because his tongue isn’t out, he looks really stupid.

It’s a furry ball of Moosh!

Oh hai. Can ai help youz?

Now THIS is a good picture.

March 25, 2013

Can you teach old cats new tricks?

My mom is redoing her bathroom. While that may sound very fancy, please keep in mind that it is actually her ONLY bathroom, and has never been updated the entire time she’s lived there, save for some well-meaning wall painting I once started and never finished. And it’s rather small. Despite the fact that it’s rather small, she also shares it with the kitties’ shitbox and food dishes. I’m not sure at what point we decided this was a good place for these (I was 16 and living at home then so I have to assume part of the blame), or how much smaller the bathroom must have felt sharing it with two cats and a teenager, but this is where it has remained for two cats and 15 years.

Fatty making the stinkface.

Now, Fatty is, well, fat. And gettin’ up there in years. He also has longish hair and he’s too fat to lick his butt. Little is just weird. One of them is peeing/pooping outside the box at random intervals. Clean box, no less. This is, of course, frustrating, but I think it’s a frequent occurrence

What’s my dearly beloved madre planning to do, she says?

Have a cat door built in the back door so that they have free access to the sun porch and put the box out there.

This, on the surface, seems like a splendid idea. Fatty always runs (he’s pretty freaking fast for his size) out the back door when it’s open and chills out there. It’s totally enclosed, and other than not being insulated or air conditioned, it ensures the kitties remain indoor ones (as they all should be).

But. The ages of these cats. I don’t know that you can just pick up and move a litterbox that’s been in one place for as long as they’ve been alive. And while I can see Fatty venturing out through this new door, Little spends all his time hiding. He’s really not very adventurous. I’ve been trying to think about what Jackson Galaxy would say, and all I can think of is that he would say something like humans live around cats, not the other way around, so don’t stress them out by moving everything around. However, he HAS had people on the show move boxes around. And wouldn’t the kitties feel better doing their business without a human doing THEIR business staring at them?

So what do you think? Are they too old to move the crapboxes around? Or will they adapt? Will they like the cat door? What happens if only one of them likes the cat door? How big is the cat door going to have to be to accommodate Fatty?

Lookit this giant fleshy mound of fur.

This is the first time I’ve ever had (yeah, they’re still mine even though I don’t live with them anymore) a cat this old, so I don’t know how set in their ways they are. I rely on you, dear readers, with your multitudes of cats and experiences. Don’t let me down.

March 24, 2013

Furballs need to earn their keep.

Lil Bub has had me thinking. Maybe I CAN make money off my cats.

Granted, my boys aren’t internet sensations, nor do they possess such cuteness that comes from having a smushy face and a tongue that constantly sticks out, but I have a ton of marketing savvy at my disposal and at one time I did, in fact, consider myself an artist. Applied to art school and everything. I didn’t actually pursue it farther than that, despite having an excellent portofolio and letters of recommendation (not to took my own horn, but I wasn’t half bad except for painting — colors, argh), though, because I was an idiot at 18 (whoever allows 18-year-olds to make decisions that will affect them for the rest of their lives and results in wasting their talents for 13 years at Big Brown is also an idiot).

I’d wear this. Look at those photoshop skillz! I’m a genius. Of course, I’m banking on the fact that everyone loves neon as much as me.

So there’s all kinds of crap for sale on the internet. And apparently people make money off these things. Lil Bub, however, has hip, fun, quality merchandise. It sets him apart. His website is attractive and aesthetic and his pictures are always high quality. He’s not the only famous internet cat, but he’s the one with the documentary. So I need to start merchandising. Get off my retired artist ass and make MeowHearThis a brand. High fashion couture. I could even get the cats doing slave labor and make unique products with paw prints. Just put some paint on their paws and let them run around shit. I can charge more for one-of-a-kind items. God, this is brilliant. I think. Is it?

I probably shouldn’t be writing about this in the event that someone of lesser moral character steals my ideas, but it’s such a wacky pipe dream that I highly doubt anyone will feel it’s viable enough to even poach.

On the other hand, how much does a trademark cost?