Tagged: crazy cat lady
I hate crying.
I watched My Cat From Hell last night.
Spoiler alert: The cat had cancer. Why don’t ya throw me for a loop there, Jackson? CRY CITY.
In honor of the lovely lady who had such a big heart that she took in this stray feral cat that for two years did nothing but eat and hide and strike at her, I am going to ignore the fact that Taco woke me up yesterday with a well-placed paw on a sore ab muscle and focus on how lucky I am to be in a position to have rescued the kitties that I have and that my boys give me love and affection (for the most part) in return.
I also don’t have much else to write about today, so this is a picture tribute.
Oh, and the kitty got surgery that removed all the cancer and with Jackson’s help, he even got domesticized enough to let the lady pet him. Hopefully that road continues to be a rewarding one for her. You go, girl. And props to the husband, who didn’t really understand her need to help this cat but went along with it all anyway. Ugh. I’m tearing up again just thinking about it all.
Taco in a box.
Tuckered out from giving SO MUCH LOVE!
My two adorable baby boys.
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.
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!
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!
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.”
Bohemian Rhapsody = Music to Annoy Your Cats By
Fun lil fact about Freddy Mercury: he was a crazy cat lady. He wrote a song for one of his many, and even had a “waistcoat” (it looks like a vest to me, but what do I know?) painted with all of his cats.
What a lovely man. And thoroughly missed. They just don’t make music like that anymore.
I’m sure Mr. Mercury would not be all that pleased (or maybe he would, who knows) to learn that I like to use one of his songs as accompaniment to cat torture.
How did this start?
Try holding your cat.
YOU LOVE MOMMY.
If yours are anything like mine, they will struggle, as if they are saying “Let me gooooo!”
That’s where it starts. I’ll start singing this to them as I attempt to force their wriggling bodies to sit on my lap.
“Mamma mia, mamma mia, mamma mia let me go”
“NO! I will not let you go! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!”
This goes on until I’m sick of this particular exchange. As my cats are named Taco and Moosh, it’s only right that I use their names here:
Taco Moosh, Taco Moosh, can you do the fandango? THUNDERBOLTS OF LIGHTNING VERY VERY FRIGHTENING EEE!
I’m certifiable.
Who knew cats were so pinteresting?
In addition to my various other obsessions (e.g. Lil Bub, Words With Friends, Grey’s Anatomy, finding my million dollar idea), I love Pinterest. I kind of scoffed at the whole “Pinterest” thing when a few of my crafty friends told me about it early on, but I wish I’d listened to them then. Pinterest is a freaking WEALTH of information and good ideas. Holy crap. I have discovered SO many amazing things, and even tried them. There’s even a blog, Pintesting (tag line: fucking up pinterest pins so you don’t have to) about testing various Pinterest things, which is pretty damn funny. I have a friend who burned her hair trying a curling tutorial but I think so far I’ve had a good run. I have discovered the most AMAZING bath and sink cleaner, and there’s 3 ingredients. No scrubbing. You can check it out here, I would suggest looking at the rest of this blog too, because there are other really good ideas. You spray, let it sit for 15 minutes and then sponge it off. I’ve found it’s easier with a brush in the tub, though. But it works amazingly, which is good because our water is so hard it might as well be diamonds.
I’ve found some kickass recipes, although I can’t personally vouch for them because they’re all meat-filled ones that I made for the boyfriend (and for my friend at work, who I started taking portions to because the boyfriend gets sick of leftovers and also refuses to eat them after 3 days, but my friend will gladly accept and appreciate) but the consensus on everything so far is that the food was MWAH. Disclaimer: while I do follow the recipes, I tend to not measure EXACTLY and I add my own touches, so if your pinterest recipes suck, don’t blame me.
I also learned how to make a pouf with a ponytail, which I’m still trying to perfect, but it’s not half bad.
Hair has never really been my forte.
Also learned how to make smoky eyes, although they look better than this picture does them justice. I’m no amateur with makeup (my best friend is practically an artist and in the 16 years we’ve been friends, I’ve picked up a few things), but I thought I’d try it out and it was awesome! A slight exercise in frustration for me because my eyes are shaped differently so I can’t ever make them look the same no matter what I do. Thanks, genetics.
And then, there’s cats. So many cats.
A sampling of my “kitties” board. I especially love the cat/poop box ring!
I did join a group board, “Meow” for a few days but there were so many people posting on it, all I could see in my feed was cat stuff. This might sounds crazy, but I DO try to have other interests. And on top of the kitties I find through pinterest searching or seeing what my other cat-crazy friends pin, I have a place to neatly organize my internet cat craziness. This is fabulous. I’m a 21st century crazy cat lady.
And I really need to buy that “I F*CKING LOVE CATS” shirt. So I can alternate with my new Lil Bub shirt, of course.
Kitties for my birthday.
It’s my birthday! I’m thirty-one. I have officially been old enough to drink legally for TEN YEARS. My god, that thought is horrifying. I remember how far away 21 seemed when I longed to be able to buy my own beer, and now I’m 10 years from that on the other side.
If you’re wondering why I’m writing a blog post instead of doing something fun and exciting to celebrate, it’s because it’s miserable outside. The weather is always a little flaky on my birthday but it’s not usually outright COLD. And it’s cold. Sunny, but windy and and cold. And since I’m still expelling an ungodly amount of mucus, I’m not willing to suffer through it for even a spring training baseball game, which the boyfriend lovingly offered up even though his back’s all screwed up and I know he isn’t impressed with the weather either. Now that I think about it, it was really windy on my birthday last year too, but it was HOT. I passed up a beach day because of the wind since getting sandblasted is NOT fun (I was also really hungover). So I’m here with the boyfriend, who is laying in bed with his bad back, and the kitties, who are sleeping on the couch next to me and in the cubby hole of the cat tree. 
The boyfriend took me to get vegan pancakes this morning only for us to discover that the place serving the vegan pancakes is in fact no longer open. It was a truly lovely thought, though. And he got me vegan cupcakes!
Apparently everyone knows what I like, as most of my cards are cat-related. 
One meows the birthday song, which confused the hell out of the boys. Searching all over for the singing kitties.
I also got this amazing book, I Could Pee on This.
I also got a Richard Dawkins books, of which the title could ironically also refer to cats.
Poems by a cat. I assume they were dictated to a human. I had fun annoying the boyfriend while reciting some of them to him. Highly amused.
Except for the stupid weather, I feel loved and adored in my advanced age. I’ve had well-wishes and presents from all over, particularly on facebook, which makes one feel rather popular. Tonight I will drink with some friends and will attempt some sort of moderation, as hangovers have only gotten worse for me the older I get. We’ll see how that works.
Victorious!
I have accomplished a major goal today, on my 3rd day of vacation, and it’s only 8:30am (I’m a morning person, what can I say? I can’t sleep in). This means that I can officially spend the day lounging around reading if I so desire, and ignore the to-do list I already made. I just started a good one. I laughed about the writer’s name but it turns out she’s rather good. Joanna Trollope. I think I enjoy British writers more than American. Something about their cadence, I suppose. I will, however, read anything and everything, so long as something hooks me enough to find out what happens.
This goal goes back to the cat tree. I’m sure you’re all quite sick of hearing about the damn cat tree, and unless something incredibly fascinating happens with it someday, this will be the last I directly reference it. My dreams of the cat tree were mostly for Moosh, as he is a “tree dweller” sort of cat. I base this diagnosis on more than a few facts: he perches on my shoulders, he’s been found on more than a few occasions on top of the cupboards (once IN the cupboards), and he sits on top of the office bookcase. Taco just likes to go wherever, being UP on things isn’t that exciting to him. He just wants to be where the action is. I thought he’d enjoy the scratching stuff, though.
But guess who’s been using the cat tree more? Taco.
I don’t know what he’s looking at. Maybe the stickers numbering the pieces that REFUSE to come off. Ugh.
At first, I thought it was just him being a brat, taking over whatever space Moosh would want, but I tried putting Moosh on the highest part of the tree and he would either just jump down or step onto my shoulders and jump to the ground from there. Moosh HAS enjoyed the angled edges of the tree on various other levels, as he likes to smush his face against them. It looks very painful to me but it seems to be enjoyable for him. Whatever.
Turns out he just needed to do this on his own terms. Today, he got on the 2nd highest level. I managed to coerce him up to the next with promises of face smushes. And he stayed! I even walked away and he stayed. And realized that he had a pretty freakin’ good view.
King’s view.
MOMMY ALWAYS KNOWS BEST, BEYOTCH.
Update: For no apparent reason today, I caught Moosh on top of the fridge today, where he hasn’t been seen in months, who then, upon being spotted, made a run across the cupboards, then back again to the fridge and then down the minute I sat up to attempt a picture. This is what the cat tree was supposed to solve. Sigh.
Old cats and ex-mommy status.
My mom works weekends, because she has her awesomely fabulous bookstore to run (Sam’s Books, in Oldsmar, Florida, if you’re ever in town, please check her out). My birthday is Saturday, and of course this is a busy day for her, so we celebrated together yesterday. My mother is probably the reason I regard birthdays so highly, as she always acts as if mine is a holiday. We went out to lunch, browsed around a bit then went back to her house where she had a piece of vegan cake waiting for me. Man, I love cake. I love cake like a fat kid loves cake. If I ever lose that 20 pounds (that would still keep me in a perfectly normal range, so no, I do not have body dysmorphic whatever) that I’ve been threatening to lose for the last 16 or so years, I’m going unvegan for a day and eating an entire Publix cake. Because Publix has the best freakin’ cakes ever. I also got to grab a big stack of books which means I will probably not get all the things accomplished that I threatened to accomplish on my time off.
Being at my mom’s means I get to hang out with my kitties. Who I realized, are really now her kitties. Although I picked them both out as babies and was their mommy for the majority of their lives, I am only mildly tolerated now.
Even Fatty’s eyes are fat. I heart my big boy.
Fatty, my fat fat fat baby, doesn’t even do our choreographed stretch when I pick him up just the right way anymore. Of course, he IS turning 16 this year. And he wasted no time gaining back all the weight he lost when he almost died of anemia.
The other baby, Little, has never really been anyone’s cat. He keeps to himself. He allowed me to pet him briefly but was quite clear in letting me know that he was only humoring me.
There’s something sad about ex-mommy status, even though I have two boys of my own at home. I would probably be more upset about it if I didn’t take into account the reasons that I didn’t uproot them when I finally moved out of my mom’s house at the ripe old age of 24, those being that I rent (they’ve been freely allowed to scratch everything forever) and I didn’t want to separate them from my mom, who of course is an amazing mother (obvs, you can see how well I turned out). She’s good for them. I’m ok with being the sister. Besides, color-wise, I have an identical set here (black and a tabby). Life is good.
Side note, I got to go through a bunch of old stuff yesterday including my old dance costumes. I wish they still fit. I’m not kidding when I say I would prance around the house in them.
HOW CUTE IS THIS??? It ALMOST makes me want a kid. Almost. Not really. I just want to wear it.
MEOW hear this! 