Tagged: kittens

My million-dollar idea. Bottled kitten love.

Hi! I’m a kitten. Love me!

There are very few people on this earth that can look at a baby kitten and be disgusted. Even the hardest of individuals can’t look a kitten in the eye and not at least THINK “awwwwwwwww.” There are, of course, the people who are unfeeling towards kittens, Moosh Moosh having been the victim of one of them, and I say this without a sliver of joking, they should be maimed. Death penalty is not even good enough. Not the point today, though. Today, I’m sharing my million-dollar idea. I’m sharing this because it’s an impossible million-dollar idea, so if someone actually takes this idea and makes it work, I tip my hat to you. You deserve the millions.

No one can resist this.

Bottling kitten cuteness. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are a lot of jerks in this world these days. I can be one of them, but I usually like to reserve it for people who deserve it, like the people who don’t use turn signals or who grab my arm without warning to “look” at my tattoos. So if I could just bottle the “awww” factor kittens have, and spray it like mace, the world would be a much better place. “What’s that, Bin Laden? Terrorism? Have some kitten.” Boom. Problem solved. We might even be able to save America this whole healthcare debate. Who can possibly get sick when you’ve been dosed with kitten?

LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE

So you see, this is an amazing idea. However, without putting an actual kitten in a spray bottle (as a vegan and animal rights activist I can see this would be a very bad way to go about it), it is an impossible one. How sad.

Hey scientists, how about you stop making expensive prescription drugs that no one can afford anyway and get on this? Except for you Hadron Collider people, you stay on that. That’s good stuff. Keep it up.

A plea to Jackson Galaxy.

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.

“Can I get on the ceiling?”

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.

Kitten Taco! I forgot he was ever that small.

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.

More stuff about cats and tropical storms.

That’s my back patio.

Ok, so it wasn’t just Debby’s outer bands that hit us…Debby has been a bitch for 3 days now. I put too much trust in the CONE OF UNCERTAINTY (I freaking LOVE saying that, even better if you say it through an empty paper towel roll), as I discovered shortly after my last post. I ventured out only to the grocery store Sunday, and had we not been out of beer and needed something for dinner, I wouldn’t have gone out. It is, however, a good thing that I went when I did, because it got a lot worse and there were pictures of submerged cars in the parking lot of the Publix I went to. As it was, I was doing 35 the whole way. Yesterday all the bridges were closed, which didn’t really affect me because I didn’t need to leave my little peninsula. But a lot of people were seriously inconvenienced, which is, I suppose, better than submerged.

This was on my way TO the store. It was a lot worse on my way back. If you look at the left side of the other side of the road, that is an Applebee’s in a shopping center that also holds my Publix, and where a car submerged later.

Other than being really good snugglers, cats have this to offer over dogs (yeah, I know dogs snuggle too, but that’s not the point here): THEY DON’T NEED TO BE WALKED. Although I complain about the litter boxes constantly, during 3 days of gusting wind and sideways rain, I appreciate it very, very much. This is not to say that I don’t feel bad for the dog people. I am friends with many dog people, and I have heard all their stories and sympathize appropriately. Unfortunately, nature calling does not trump Mother Nature, which if you think about it, is really a conundrum.

YAY LITTER BOXES!

So for this, kitties, I am grateful that you take your nasty dumps in my living space. I also have to give credit to the Litter Genie, it works splendidly and worth every dime.

Moosh sleeping on my galoshes.

My Cat From Hell = Jersey Shore

So My Cat From Hell’s new season starts soon (if you haven’t seen it, it’s on Animal Planet, you need to watch). I love this show. I love quirky Jackson Galaxy, his penchant for for the rockabilly-ish and how he fixes even the worst of kitties, and makes the humans do actual work to ensure the kitty is living his or her best life. And chides them when they don’t put in the effort.

But essentially, I realize, I watch this show for the same reason I watch Jersey Shore: I feel better about my cats (and myself, when I watch Jerz). Jersey Shore is a bunch of pompous drunk morons who do really stupid things and say really stupid crap and get into the most ridiculous of fights. They make me feel better about ANY shenanagans I have caused by a night of too much Jager. Because as low as my lowest low is, I have never been that low. Nor have my lows occurred on such a consistent basis.

Moosh Moosh likes to play with…bachelorette party favors. So embarrassing!

While Taco is quite possibly the biggest pain in the ass the cat world has ever seen, he’s relatively harmless. I would really like to fix the whole “pee on the couch” thing but for the most part, his antics are merely annoying and sometimes border on endearing. (UPDATE: The boyfriend read this blog and voiced his displeasure with my lack of concern about the couch peeing. As if I like it! Honey. I’m just saying it could be worse. At least it’s a medical problem.) Despite being loud and overly curious, he’s lovey, he’s cute, and he never tries to scratch my eyeballs out. Moosh is a oddball, with his random licking of things and proneness to perching, but overall he’s a very well-behaved cat.

Takin’ it like a man.

These kitties on My Cat From Hell, they are crazy. The one that freaked me out most was the cat that launched himself chest high at his person. Moosh will launch himself on my shoulders, but not to go claw-crazy at my face. Most of the time the owners are well-meaning people, they just don’t understand cat like Jackson Galaxy.

So my confidence is boosted two-fold. One, my cats, albeit a little wacko, are not nearly as bad as these cats, which gives me a source of motherly pride, as well as a little bit of arrogance. Two, half the stuff Jackson teaches these people is stuff I already do innately. This makes me feel like I am MEANT to be a crazy cat lady. I KNOW cats. No special training needed. I don’t really know what this says about me, other than that I am a very empathetic person and I find cats more pleasant than humans. But I like to think this makes me special.

Just like I like to think that as long as I never show my “kooka” in a drunken haze on national television, that I am doing way better at life than a lot of people are. Although I rarely get embarrassed, because when you are as clumsy as me, you learn to be amused at your own antics. Otherwise I’d spend most of my life red-faced.

Bad hair day? Nope. Par for the course.

Let sleeping dogs lie, but never cats.

Am I the only person obsessed with my sleeping cats? I must have more pictures of snoring kitties than Vegas has hookers. They’re just SO FREAKING ADORABLE when they’re sleeping (the cats, not the hookers), and just like a snowflake, I swear they never sleep the exact same way twice. There is always ONE cute little tiny change, which is why I feel the urge to snap yet another picture. Taco often sleeps sprawled as if the floor is going to move out from under him. Moosh will sleep with his fat gut in the air like a doofus. These are just my two favorite poses, but oh-em-gee there are so many others. And the rare moments when I actually catch them sleeping together, that will simply make my day. Even if they are merely sleeping in close proximity to each other, I feel as if I’ve been awarded some magical gift.

So close…

And don’t even get me started about kittens. They fall asleep in the middle of things, and it’s so adorable I could die.

Of course, the poses never last long, because I have to pet them and coo. But THEN they do even CUTER stretchy things and I coo some more. My absolute favorite is what I call the “backwards stretch,” where they curl their paws in and do some sort of opposite stretch thing. I think that I’ve attempted something similar but it’s not nearly as fun to watch and I usually end up giving myself a Charley Horse in my calf.

Here’s where I get a little strange. If the cats have been inactive for a certain amount of time, I feel this compulsion to find them at least once an hour and wake them up. Do human mothers do this? Is this engrained? I can’t help myself. It’s not like I really think they’re dead. I just need to poke them and make sure every so often. Then I get to see them do the stretchy thing. Bonus!

Time to poke.

I think it’s entirely possible that I’m just jealous that they look so comfortable. My bed is pretty damn comfortable, but I have never felt as happy or serene as they look in even the most awkward of positions.

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.

Cat chore of the day – nixing the claws.

Taco’s been a lil scratchy-scratchy with the ol’ clawsies lately, so today is SOFT PAW DAY! WHEEEEE!

When I was younger, I never dreamed my life would be so exciting at 30.

Moosh has never had an issue with the scratching. He’s very good about only scratching things he’s supposed to, although he does like to stretch up a wall here and there, but the claws don’t really come out.

Taco, being the bad son that he is, scratches wherever he pleases, although surprisingly not the couch (but he does pee on it, so I’m not really sure which is better). He ADORES my yoga mat. While I’m on it. Have you ever had to shoo away a cat scratching under you whilst doing the downward facing dog? Because I have.

I am heartily against declawing. It is not, as many people think, just an “easy removal of claws.” It is an amputation. It is exactly like removing the top joint of your finger. Even if it weren’t such a HORRIBLY INVASIVE SURGERY that was SIMPLY for the convenience of the owners, what happens if your cat gets out? Mine are actually terrified of the outside world (once, I left for work and didn’t close the door all the way, and the boyfriend, upon leaving for work himself, discovered the open door and Moosh sitting calmly on the porch chair — a porch that is not enclosed) but things happen, and I love them too much to put them at that sort of disadvantage. Nor would I want to dismember them.

Still not convinced? It’s illegal or considered inhumane and strongly discouraged in all of the following countries:

  • England
  • Scotland
  • Wales
  • Italy
  • France
  • Germany
  • Bosnia
  • Austria
  • Switzerland
  • Norway
  • Sweden
  • Netherlands
  • Northern Ireland
  • Ireland
  • Denmark
  • Finland
  • Slovenia
  • Portugal
  • Belgium
  • Brazil
  • Australia
  • New Zealand
  • Yugoslavia
  • Malta
  • Israel

That’s quite a list. WHERE IS THE KITTY LEGISLATION IN AMERICA, OBAMA???

There’s also possible behavioral changes, complications and nerve damage pain to think of.

So. There is no declawing in my house. There is only Soft Paws. Which really aren’t that bad. Glue in the cap, cap on the nail, hold the cat, release. Reapply as necessary. They can eat them and everything. Out of 3 cats I have applied them to, only one has had a problem with them. Surprisingly enough, it’s the good son, Moosh (who, we discovered,  doesn’t need them anyway). I’ll apply them, hold him for the requisite 10 minutes for the glue to dry, and then he will walk 5 paces, sit, and determinedly begin yanking them off with his teeth. He will sit there as long as it takes to get them all off. This is an amusing process to watch, as I am far more lazy than him, apparently. I don’t have that sort of drive. Taco, on the other hand, doesn’t even notice them. He’ll just go on about his day.

I call this portrait “I f#$&ing hate you people.”

Without further adieu, off I go to fit the bad son with his mittens. I am merciful this time, and picked clear instead of pink.

Taco doesn’t care. He loves his fancy nails.

 

UPDATE: After a lengthy hunt for the claw clippers (finally found under the sofa), the soft paws were applied with little fanfare, until the “holding for 10 minutes while glue dries” part. It would seem that being held by me is akin to being held against hot coals.

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.

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?