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.
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.
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.
I really wish Jackson Galaxy would come to Florida. I watched the first show of the new season of My Cat From Hell last night and while it’s great and all, I am NOT taking Taco for a walk around the block here, which was one of his suggestions for a Bengal on the show. Maybe that works in California and New York but I can just imagine the flea party that would ensue here. Plus, Taco absolutely hates fresh air. He freaks out. Which in turn, will stress him out, which will cause a flare-up of his Feline Idiopathic Cystitis and then he will pee in MORE inappropriate places. I still have a shower curtain and puppy pads on my couch. And a weekly spraying of cat stay-off spray, whatever that is.
My cats have some of the same issues these cats on the show have, but there’s always something just different enough that his solutions won’t work for me. Moosh bites randomly. Sometimes I can tell when he’s about to by a tail thump but sometimes it’s out of the blue. He’ll be purring, belly up getting pets when BAM! Bite. It’s not a certain spot that I touch…I’ve poked and prodded to check. I know what DOES provoke him, and according to last night’s episode, I am not supposed to be doing what I do, which is using my hand as a toy. I pet his head backwards and smush his face, and his eyes get big and black and he lunges as I move my hand away. Sometimes this ends badly for me. But I can immediately get him out of attack/play mode by putting my face in his face. It’s like his off switch. It’s like he knows face is a no scratch zone, and he nuzzles. Here’s the thing, though…Moosh is such a weird cat that he’s not really into toys. He has a passing interest in some occasionally and that’s about it. Taco, on the other hand, plays with anything and everything. He must know I’m writing about him because 5 minutes ago he was DEAD asleep on the bed and he’s just entered the room meowing at me. He is a SUPER attention hog.
Jackson also says that cats are either tree dwellers or bush dwellers. Moosh is definitely a tree dweller, he wants to be on top of everything. I found him in my cabinet once. Next to the clean glasses. Taco has no interest in jumping on much unless there’s something for him to mess with. He can, however, jump chest high. I wish I had a better camera that was capable of catching him in a leap, because it’s really a sight to see. I assume that’s the Bengal in him. I don’t know what any of this means in terms of making my cats behave better, though.
I was tempted to buy a cat wheel for Taco to get out his energy, as I saw on an older episode. I found out they are rather expensive. I decided running up and down the stairs is exercise enough.
In summary, PLEASE COME TO MY HOUSE, JACKSON GALAXY! I know that my cats are not threatening lives but I would like to use my couch again. And sleep in a little on weekends. And make Taco stop eating Moosh Moosh’s food. And find out why Moosh licks blinds, which isn’t harmful but really freakin’ weird.