Ya’ll know what I’m talking about. The toys we so excitedly buy on a whim, imagination filled with visions of kitty splendor…only to be ignored entirely, not even worthy of being batted under a couch. In a twist of irony, in fact, the BEST toys get batted under the couch. I feel like these toys can never be found when you’re looking for them, but turn up in a giant stash under sometime that you only clean under once a year and then think “Oh, so THIS is where they all went!” BUT. When you look in this place at a later date to find what you now think is the honey hole of missing favorite toys, you find nary a one.
This rant is brought to you courtesy of an impulse clearance rack buy at PetSmart today. I only stopped in there to see if I could find a replacement wavy chaise longue (1. it’s really nothing like a chaise longue, it’s just a carpeted wave shape thing but the cats lie on it like I imagine I would on a chaise longue and 2. yes, I am spelling “chaise longue” correctly, it’s not “chaise lounge” as most people pronounce it – fact of the day) but alas, it was $30. Since I’ve never spent more than $20 on one, I refused to buy one for ten dollars more today, even if Moosh is out of a seat since Taco always shoves him out of the way to take the one remaining one. See, we HAD two, only someone’s fat ass broke one.
Now there’s one, and Taco keeps puking on the sisal part (ever tried to clean puke out of woven sisal?).
There I go again, wandering away from the point. The POINT is that I ended up buying some sort of natural treats that are supposed to “deodorize” your cats’ shit. Considering that the boyfriend and I actually send each other texts to warn of impending poop smells, I would have paid a small fortune for them, but to my delight they were only SIX DOLLARS! This, to me, was worth standing in line for. It was in this line that I discovered the clearance rack. For a mere 2 something I could have a TREAT DISPENSER.
I don’t know what I thought this was, but it seemed cheap, and the cats like treats, so why not?
Yeah. No. This is what it does: you put treats in it. You wind it up. Put it on the ground. It spins a few times. Scares the cats. Spits out a few treats. Stops. Cats stare. Notice treats. Hesitantly walk toward them. Eat them. Ignore the spinny thing.
I hate the brilliance of whomever discovered these impulse lanes. I know that the grocery stores have employed such tactics for years, but only recently stores have discovered that putting in a veritable MAZE of goodies and calling it a “checkout line” is highly profitable. Forever 21, Marshalls, PetSmart…I hate you.
As I’ve mentioned before, I love Pinterest. I also love HGTV. I don’t own my own house and I have very little to no sense when it comes to decorating, but I like to pretend I do by looking at pretty pictures and imagining I could do that.
Then I had an epiphany.
Because I have cats.
As I sat there looking at the 834579348st picture of a well-decorated room with vases holding large feather-like things perched precariously atop a tall, thin “table,” I realized that THESE PEOPLE DON’T HAVE FUCKING CATS.
I can’t even buy a LAMP without thinking “Ok. Will the cats knock this over?” I mean, I found this fabulous one where the lampshade was hanging sequins but after I got over my initial “OOOOHHHHHHH WANT THAT” I immediately thought “Nope. Cat toys.”
THEY RUIN EVERYTHING.
All of my design choices are based on THEM. I have no plants in my house. I have herbs on my front porch so they don’t eat them, but some other animal does and then I forget to water them because they’re outside and I’m not constantly reminded.
If the boyfriend thoughtfully buys me flowers for any sort of occasion, I have to either take them to work with me or proudly display them in my bathroom.
NOTHING is off limits to them. NOTHING.
It finally happened.
After weeks of dodging germs from what seemed like EVERY PERSON IN EXISTENCE, my immune system has finally succumbed. I woke up with a sore throat and it’s just going downhill from there. It was only a matter of time. Everyone at both jobs had some variety of the sickness, including the boyfriend. So instead of enjoying the new cat tree (yes, it’s up!), I’m whining to Taco in bed.
At some point, I will get up and make some of an effort to do something. Not just yet. I also have to drink some apple cider vinegar and I really hate that. But it’s good for the ol’ mucus.
Aside from me feeling like someone stuck knives in my throat, I did take some pics of the kitties with their tree last night while I wasn’t aware of the sickness yet. The boyfriend did a lovely job of putting it together without breaking anything. They seem to vaguely enjoy it. Now if we could just agree where to put it.
Ok, so I took a lot of pictures. I was excited. Wish I still felt that energetic today. DO YOUR JOB, IMMUNE SYSTEM.
The cat tree got here safely. It was a 70 pound box, so I’m sure my UPS guy loves me. I DO have to work with the guy, after all, and he knows where I live. Sorry, Aaron. You chose this life.
Enough about Big Brown. I got home from work early last night and starting pulling the straps off (we call them “hub snakes” in the business. Insider knowledge. Easy to trip on.) and pulling all the pieces out. The boyfriend looked at me like I was crazy and said “Really? You’re going to do that now? I’ll do it this weekend.” But I was determined, and he is not to be trusted putting things together because he forgets that things are made too cheaply for his high construction standards and ends up tightening things to the point of breaking. Besides, I like putting things together. And the boyfriend has a sinus infection, which I told him he had before he went to the doctor, but NO ONE listens to me. He never gets sick. I get sick twice a year, every year, and my sinuses ALWAYS hate me. I had a minor nosebleed all day Monday. This bitch knows sinuses.
I digress, as usual. He retired upstairs as I cracked a beer and got to checking out the instructions while the cats inspected the box it came in, plus the styrofoam. I inspected each piece while I pondered starting. Then I decided that I did not, in fact, feel like putting that shit together.
So I piled things (appropriately, so the cats don’t knock piles over and hurt themselves), spilled my beer, then also retired upstairs where the sick boyfriend and I watched Tosh.O and I laughed.
Sorry kitties. I worked all day. Slaving over a hot desk so you could eat. You can wait.
They don’t care. They just want food anyway.
Yeah. So I’m lazy. Again. I DID manage to take my lazy ass to the mall today (I hate the mall) to spend christmas gift cards. I even bought a sensible dress for work. It’s leopard print, so I suppose it’s not TOO sensible, but nevertheless, sensible for me. The rest of my day has consisted of taking pictures of cats. I thought I’d share.
The boys didn’t get a ton of presents this year…in fact, they only got 3. Well, 4 if you consider our generous gift to house and feed them for another year. They really never seem to appreciate that one…
Anyway, our very nice and VERY religious next door neighbor left us a note saying something to the effect of WWJD (he would be neighborly, it seems), a bag of chocolates (a lovely gesture, but alas, not vegan – I’ll regift, though…the boyfriend isn’t really a “sweets” person) and a cat toy stocking.
Despite my atheism, I was able to look past the Jesus part of the note and focus on the intention and found it to be surprisingly heartwarming overall. The kitties loved the toys, although a few of them were the ones that Moosh absolutely LOVES (the ONLY kind of toy that he really likes) but that we cannot keep because Taco eats the sparkles, which in turn makes his poop sparkly AND bloody. I can’t just have normal cats?
The boyfriend bought them two bags of treats. He didn’t wrap them. In fact, he left them on the counter when we went out to a christmas eve party (I remembered this shortly after arriving to said party) and in the biggest christmas miracle EVER, they went untouched.
I bought them a new Neko toy. Moosh doesn’t seem to care for it (shocker!) but Taco goes apeshit for it. The first night we played with it he growled the whole time. Maybe not really a growl, that gutteral “rrrrrrrggg” that they do. The boyfriend, of course, missed this amusement and I have yet to accomplish replicating it. It’s just like when you take your car to the mechanic because it’s making a funny noise and the funny noise totally stops when you get there. Taco still loves it. I actually have to hide it in the pantry because otherwise he will find wherever it is, pull it out and drag it around.
I personally had a good christmas, even though I was very PMSy and cranky on the actual day of. But I did get to spend it with my dad, mom, stepmom and boyfriend. I’ve never been jealous of people with big families. My little one is just fine. And I got stuff I asked for, like expensive anti-aging night moisturizer (I’m turning 31 in 2 months, it’s time to worry about this shit) and a tablet holder that confused my mom when I asked for it because I don’t have a tablet (I switched gyms because LA Fitness took over mine and I hate them, and my new gym’s cardio machines have no magazine holders – so baffling, but I HAVE to read magazines to get through cardio, I don’t like watching TV, and the tablet holder was my brilliant idea to remedy this). I also got kickass stuff from my friends, and in addition to the actual gifts, we we able to over our amazing wrapping talents (we have no shame in patting ourselves on the back and feeling superior to the lesser talented wrappers).
And I wish all of you a happy holiday season, whatever you celebrate and whatever you believe. And all of your kitties, too!
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.
Taco went from “whoa dude, I’m totally stoned” to “methed out mouse fiend” the SECOND I put it down.
They’re such a-holes.