Tagged: cat
Crazy cat lady AND a circus freak.
Ok, that’s stretching it a little. I am not nearly as tatted up as I could be, or even as much as I want to be. In fact, I just recently broke a SEVEN YEAR tattooless streak. I imagine it is something like a recovering heroin addict trying heroin again. They’re addictive. As soon as the needle started jabbing away, it was like riding a bike.
Here’s a shameful fact. Despite my crazy cat lady status, I have a mere TWO cat tattoos. There’s some girl who got a whole SLEEVE dedicated to her cats! I should have my membership revoked.
It’s not that I don’t WANT more cat tattoos, it’s that my style of choice is generally traditional and there are few ways to place cats in that setting. I’ve also seen a LOT of really really really ugly cat tattoos. Have you ever seen someone who got a portrait of their kid or mom by a crappy artist and the tattoo ends up resembling Sloth from The Goonies? That happens with cat portraits too. Do not want.
Below is my very first tattoo. Actually, it’s my third, because I have some dots on my hand when I was experimenting with india ink at 15 and also a lovely chaos symbol, also done with india ink at 15, that this tattoo is covering up. I got it the day I turned 18, and boy, am I glad I waited. I have very few regrets about my tattoos because they’re really a timeline of YOU, but I remember the incredibly stupid crap I wanted pre-18 and it was far worse than anything I got after. I was so very into punk rock and being an anarchist and although I’ve retained a lot of the snotty attitude and defiance, I no longer think The Exploited is a really inspiring band. But Gwar (the tattoo below) has stood the test of time, and they are still my very favorite band, and have been since I was 14.
Here’s the tally:
- 5 skulls
- 3 butterflies (they’re awesome butterflies, though…tough, not pansy-ass)
- 2 hearts with daggers
- 2 Gwar tattoos
- 1 Guns n’ Roses tattoo (but I got it traditional-style)
- And some various other things.
And only two cats.
This one, my ex did. This was back in his apprentice days but last I heard he opened his own shop and is doing really amazing work. This one is all faded, please don’t judge. I got this when I was kickboxing and was amused at the thought of kicking someone in the face with the angry cat.
And below is my newest masterpiece. I’d wanted a tattoo done by Jason Minauro for a really long time, but I never got around to it. When I finally did, I saw what all the fuss was about. He’s amazing. I fancy myself somewhat of an artist and in fact wanted to become a tattoo artist at one point, but I didn’t want to insult him with anything more than a rough sketch of what I wanted. And I am SO glad I didn’t, because his art was far better than anything I could have done. This is probably why he’s like, renowned and shit. He found my cat obsession amusing, and added such great little touches like the claws on the brass knuckles. I’m also very happy that it turned out so well because it is my first IN YOUR FACE visible tattoo (my forearm) and is rather large. And yes, the PAWS UP is a clever Lady Gaga reference. I love her. He also found this amusing.
Now…what to get next?
To the Cat Daddies…
The kitties would like to wish their father and grandfather a very happy Father’s Day. They even got their daddy a card. I had to sign it for them, though, because they don’t have thumbs.
It’s a boy!
It’s not easy being a Cat Daddy (unless you’re Jackson Galaxy)…you have to be rather quiet with the snuggle talk because your friends will mock you relentlessly. I have the utmost respect for the cat daddies out there who fly their kitty flag proudly.
Honey, your boys love you. And I know you love them, even though they wake you up, cover your clean laundry with fur and step on your man parts.
Grandpa (Dad, I’m sorry, but furry grandchildren is all you’re gonna get) has two Daddy’s girls of his own — one human, one cat. Joanie, my dad’s kitty, has hated me for most of her life. Hisses when I come near. Very jealous. But she’s mellowed with age, and I love her anyway.
I look a little crazy in this picture for some reason. Probably in the genes.
Dad, I love you! Thanks for teaching me the sky’s the limit (literally — when are you going to finish teaching me how to fly?) and for being an awesome cat daddy to Joanie (and Fu). You’ve taught me how to be a jack (Jill?) of all trades, because life is boring when you stick to just one thing. You’re the best! I miss you and hope you have an amazing Father’s Day. Tell the kitties to be extra nice to you today.
Talking to cats. Can’t help myself.
I talk to my cats. This may make me wacko, I understand this. This is ok with me. All in all, it’s probably a lot like talking to one’s self.
Moosh giving me the “whatever” eye.
I do know that both Moosh and Taco respond to the sound of their names.
If I coo “Mooshymooshmooshy” real low, Moosh gets all lovey, and will come smush my face, but first he’ll “mrrrp” at me.
Pay attention to meeeeeeeeee
Taco, as per usual, will respond to his name loudly. A conversation between Taco and I goes something like this:
“Meow!”
“What?”
“Meow!”
“What?”
“Meooooowwwww”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT???”
*jumps on lap, usually at an inconvenient time*
I will discuss things with them as if they understand. I tell Moosh that if he doesn’t finish his food, his brother will eat it. Then I tell Taco not to eat his brother’s food (neither takes my advice).
When Taco takes a dump, I tell him how much it stinks, and ask him what the hell he ate to produce such disgusting waste, as if he has a choice in the matter of his food (somewhere, subconsciously, I think he’s stealing shit from the fridge, I guess). He ignores me.
When they’re fighting, I tell them to cut it out and be nice to each other, or to play nice. They stop to look at me for a split second, then immediately resume fighting.
I ask them why they’re not bald, since their hair is EVERYWHERE, mostly stuck in my eyes. Also met with ignoring.
I alert them when there’s another cat or a bunny outside: “Ooooooh it’s a bunny! Look at the bunny, kitties!” while pushing them toward the window to look. This sometimes gets a response in the bunny’s direction, or prompts them to rub on my legs.
This is prime snuggle time.
Most embarrassing is snuggle talk. This is when I talk to them like they are little babies while making myself sound incapable of brain activity. “Who’s my boo-bear? Who likes a snuggle? You’re my cute-face snugglebunny. You love mommy, don’t you? Mommy loves YOU. Look at that belly! You’re so silly.” As hard as this is to admit, I can go on like this for hours. You know your relationship with your significant other is solid when you can do all of this in front of them without care, and without them batting an eye.
The point of this is, science tells me that they don’t know what the eff I’m saying, that it’s the tone of my voice, blah blah blah. But then, science also tells me that cats only meow at humans…so isn’t that equally as futile as me talking to them? Taco doesn’t have tones in his meows. It’s either WHINE or OMG EMERGENCY. If there was an actual emergency, I would have no idea, because I gave up on running out to find out what’s wrong with him when he makes that cry, because there is never anything wrong with him.
It’s not like people really listen to each other anyway. At least my cats cock their head and give me the impression what I’m saying is important. And for that, I thank them.
This post is oddly not about cats.
I have so generously been awarded an award. Thank you to CatPurrology! As a new blogger, it’s comforting to know that my writing is decent enough to warrant this honor.
The rules to the ONE LOVELY BLOG AWARD are:
• Thank the person who nominated you and link back to them in your post
• Share 7 things about yourself
• Nominate 15 or so bloggers you admire
• Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they’ve been nominated.
So. 7 things about myself. So many things to say…
1. I am not a natural blonde. This is probably not a surprise, as my shade of blonde is not found in nature. Technically, though, I was a blonde as a kid, it just got darker as I grew up. So I bleach the hell out of it. 
2. I have an addiction to shopping. It is quite serious.
3. I have a lot of tattoos, and I really hate when a-holes with tribals try to bond with me over our shared tattooage. Oh, are you Samoan? No? Well then.
4. I am easily distracted by animal print.
5. I’m a walking disaster. I can trip, fall, bump into and crush almost anything, especially if it is something I should not be able to trip, fall, bump into or crush easily.
6. In spite of the above, I have never broken a bone, except for my tailbone, I think. I fell getting out of a sailboat, right onto the rope mooring it. Not fun. Couldn’t sit properly for weeks.
7. I really really really love football and beer. The months between football seasons sadden me. 
So that’s that. Nothing about cats, even! I figure I talk about them enough otherwise.
15 seems slightly excessive, so I’m going to shorten my list. I apologize in advance if I am breaking blogger code, but I so love breaking rules!
2. Tabi Happy
4. Spots of Odd
5. My Serendipitous Life as a Baseball Wife
8. ThreeCatYard
Gah, I’m so lazy today. If I left you out, it’s not because I don’t admire you, it’s because I’m sloth-like in my production today.
New obsession…surprise! It involves cats.
There is nothing that I do better than completely waste my time. Well, except for being a crazy cat lady, of course.
So when I discovered #catwang, it only made sense for it to become my new obsession.
Cats and randomness, my two favorite things. Nothing makes me laugh more, which explains the success of i can haz cheeseburger, I’m sure.
There are so many chores I’m not getting done because I’m too busy playing with this. Who thought of this? I want to shake their hand. I feel we are kindred spirits.
Of course, this is all easily accomplished through photoshop, but being that I hail from the age of convenience, the handheld-do-it-anywhere option is SO appealing.
In conclusion, if you have an iPhone, I urge you to download #catwang. It’s free, although you can buy add-ons (which I did — SHARK TEETH!) This is not a paid advertisement (I wish! Pay me, #catwang people!). It’s just too much fun for me not to pass on. You may already know about this. In my advanced age, it takes me a bit longer to glom on to what the kids are into these days.
Love and cats.
A scientific mind overanalyzes everything. This is what I tell myself to make myself feel better, anyway.
Although I am a fan of all animals, I am most definitely a cat person. I won’t even kill insects unless they are stinging me or in my house, which I consider fair game.
After a lifetime of careful thought, this is my conclusion: I love things more when I have to fight for it. This is true of my love life as well.
He doesn’t even let me win mini-golf on my birthday.
The boyfriend and I will have been together for 9 years as of June 7th. We’ve definitely had our ups and downs but in the end, I love the hell out of him and I know he loves the hell out of me — I mean, how could he not? But we don’t always LIKE each other. I’m not saying that we ever hate each other…we’re just both independent people who are totally ok having alone time and we are both easily annoyed. There is a balance of power in a relationship that is always shifting. My theory is that this is what keeps things interesting. We always love each other, but the upper hand goes back and forth.
This, I think, is the basis of why I am a cat person. Hear me out.
The balance of power is always shifting in the kitty/kitty mommy relationship. They sit on your lap JUST as you’re about to get up, but refuse to sit there when you put them there yourself. They adore you when they’re ready to be fed, but might completely ignore you for an entire day in between feedings. Dogs love you ALL the time. Nothing against dogs, or people who love them. Personally, I just love a good fight. This is a genetic thing. I’m cocky, I can be arrogant, and every once in awhile I need a worthy opponent to take me down a peg or two.
So those times when I’m walking up to my house and see one of the babies jump in the window, looking happy to see me (when it’s NOT time for food), it brings me joy. They love me. I’ve won one round in the uphill lifetime battle. When I get an after-food snuggle, or a purr without being touched, I win. I will never continuously hold the upper hand. It just makes the victories that much sweeter.
im on yur lap, steelin yur comfurt
And boyfriend (I know you tell me you read this but I don’t believe you), I love you. I know this is a RIDICULOUS anniversary message but after 9 years, I had to try something new. So here it is. Thank you for loving me and the kitties even though sometimes you pretend not to. And thank you for being my lifetime sparring partner. You keep me interested. Otherwise you’d be long gone =P
Can we get a kitten?
Cat of the Day!
Well, fancy that. Moosh Moosh was the Cat of the Day on Catster’s community page!
WOOT WOOT
He did absolutely nothing to garner this honor but I am awash in motherly pride nonetheless.
My baby is famous.
So regal.
Taco, on the other hand, loudly puked this morning about 30 minutes before I had to wake up. Apparently he managed to get some on the tile of the bathroom but did not miss the carpet.
I don’t remember signing up for puke pick-up duty.
Despite this, the news that a co-worker found baby kittens in his yard made me momentarily forget how expensive the cats are. One of them is all gray! And the silly boy did not bring pictures. In an office full of cat people? Ridiculous. I let myself get a little excited because I know that my best chance of convincing the boyfriend a 3rd cat is an OK idea is a solid gray kitten. One came up to our porch once and I had convinced him that we needed to take it in when a big fat neighborhood cat scared it away. Never saw the angelbaby again. I imagine it went back to its forever home. But I digress. Apparently one of kittens has funky legs. He googled and discovered its a common kitten thing, he just needs a little physical therapy, but soon. They’ve decided they want to keep that one. Which reminds me of the time I wanted to adopt a 3-legged cat (black, or course), but the boyfriend insisted he would have a hard time getting up and down the stairs. This is not true, of course, cats adapt very well.
I guess I love a good underdog. Undercat? Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.
Cats and frogs and lizards, oh my.
What’s more annoying than Taco’s meow?
This cat is so loud.
Frogs. Well, actually, toads, I think. I think we have frogs, too (I found one on my beach chair when I went to lay out one day — while I was laying on the beach chair — it was the same color green), but the toads are the uglier and stupider of the two.
Here in Florida, the amphibians loudly enjoy a good rainstorm. And if you know Florida, you know we do storms right. It’s rained quite a bit in the past week. When you walk outside, all you hear is “GGRRREEAAAAKKKK GREEEEAAAAAAAK” — it’s really annoying.
But more annoying than the noise is the fact that they will jump into my house unnoticed when the door is opened for a second.
What’s more exciting than chasing a not-alive real-fur mousie?
Taken a split second before he batted it.
A living, breathing, jumping baby frog.
Sometimes I’ll catch the little idiots in time and scoot them out the door. Some aren’t so lucky to escape the “master hunters.” But I will not know about the not-so-lucky ones until I step on a half-corpsified dead one. Or half of one. Because this is the only other state that I find them in other than fully alive and cornered. I don’t know what the little carnivores do with them until they reach this state, but it is out of my eyesight. Kitty embalming? Who the hell knows.
I suppose I should be grateful. Fatty, in his younger and skinnier days, used to catch lizards, play with them awhile, and just as they were hard and corpse-y — place them thoughtfully in my bed as a present. THANKS. JUST WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED.
But really, stepping on a dead frog (toad, whatever) isn’t much better. This year’s croaking just started, so I have yet to have this honor. But I know it’s coming.
(If you’re wondering what happened to the blog challenge, the word of the day is “mushroom” and I DESPISE mushrooms, so I couldn’t figure out how to fit it in. Oh, I just did. Go me!)
Cats’ sixth sense: camera detection.
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.
But they know! From all the video I have captured of my cats, one would think they are lazy slobs who move only to go sit in another area. I tried for 10 minutes and gave up. 
Taco went from “whoa dude, I’m totally stoned” to “methed out mouse fiend” the SECOND I put it down.
They only move for still pictures.
They’re such a-holes.
Support no-kill or save a life?
Not that I’m allowed to get another cat. The boyfriend has made it clear that if another cat moves in, he’s moving out. He does really useful things, like taking out the trash and using a toilet instead of a litter box. He’s also there for me to annoy incessantly when I’m bored with doing that to the cats. I guess there’s the whole “love” thing, too.
But every time I see adoptable cats, I want them. They are calling to me. I was at PetSmart today (I only shop there because I can get Taco’s prescription food there, which they SO INCONVENIENTLY put next to the adoptable cats) and these kitties were CALLING to me. One literally was, I told him I couldn’t have another mouth in the house. Taco is deafening enough. But there is always one that really really gets me. This time, it was a 10-month-old tabby/white mix. I generally don’t even like partly white cats (I like them all, I just usually don’t find them attractive). This big guy was so cute. I am a sucker for big paws, and he stretched those big mitts out at me, just BREAKING my heart.
Tell me he’s not cute.
This is where my moral dilemma comes in, even though it is a hypothetical one, since I can’t get another cat.
The kitties at this PetSmart were from the Pinellas County Animal Shelter. The animal shelter is NOT a no-kill facility, meaning if these guys don’t don’t find homes, they’re euthanized for space. I know it’s logistically not possible for a state-funded operation to avoid this, but I don’t particularly want to support it, either. So how can you choose between saving an animal that might otherwise be “put down” or supporting a facility (through your adoption fee) that makes every effort to not euthanize?
All of my cats are strays. Except Taco, his mom was rescued while preggers, so he’s never really known the streets. As much as I dream about having full-blood Bengal or a Cheetoh or a Toyger, there are so many stray, unwanted and unloved babies out there without it being necessary to breed more. Besides, Taco is part Bengal and if I pretend he’s bigger, Moosh is almost Panther-like.
KINDA like a panther, right?
I guess the end result is what really matters. You save an animal, no matter how you do it.
And when I can, I assuage my guilt by donating when I can, and taking my old clothes over to the Friends of Strays thrift store. I wish I could volunteer but two jobs take up most of my time and I doubt I’d be much help crying over wanting to take them all home. It would be like putting a drug addict in an evidence room.
Just in case anyone feels like donating…these are really good no- kill shelters that can always use the help:
Friends of Strays
Pet Pal Animal Shelter
Second Chance for Strays
Save Our Strays
MEOW hear this! 