I honestly think I have the loudest cat in the entire world. Taco seems to just get louder and louder and louder and louder. And NEVER EVER STOPS. Is it possible for a cat to get more needy as time goes on? It almost seems like the more attention we give him, the more he requires. I’m ok with the meowing sometimes, on occasion I even find it cute. But he overdoes it.
I hate to constantly reference the show My Cat From Hell, but I recently saw an episode featuring a cat that was overly attached to his humans and freaked every time they left…to the point that it would perch in the (2nd story) window anxiously awaiting their return…and once fell out. For all of my confidence in my feline knowledge, I really had no idea that cats could suffer separation anxiety. Hell, their attention span seems worse than mine, and that’s saying a lot. So I wondered for a bit if this was Taco’s problem. We already know his wires are a little crossed anyway with the Idiopathic Cystitis. But he has his brother all day, and while both me and the boyfriend work two jobs, one or both of us is usually home for a bit between them and even when we’re here more often than that, he still gets all in yo’ face.
I suppose I’m not going to get any answers. The boyfriend got so annoyed last night he told Taco “I can’t wait until you get old and lazy and do nothing except lay around all day.” I second that.
But then, when that happens, I’ll probably want a kitten.
Despite the fact that I’m only on half vacation until 3pm tomorrow, I’m trying to make the most of my off time. So far, I’ve accomplished very little, except that I’ve actually been to the gym EVERY DAY this week! So what if it’s only Tuesday? This is still something to give accolades for. Yay me.
I also spent some quality time with my mom and my other cats today. By this I mean one allowed me to maneuver under a chair to pet him and the other demanded attention to his fat belly.
The mother is not used to having my undivided attention, so as usual, she forgot everything she was saving up to talk to me about. But we had a lovely time anyway, going through books and old photos. And I did all her “tech” stuff. You can lead a horse to an iPhone, but you can’t make em update it.
Then I came home. To a Taco that seems to be extra loud. He’s been meowing up a storm lately. I am ready to punch him. I won’t, of course, but I threaten him anyway. He meows in response. I’m considering not coming home at all tomorrow.
I plan to spend the rest of the time off with the boyfriend. Hopefully on the beach. I stockpiled a crapload of books (it pays to have a mommy with a bookstore when you’re a bookworm) and I even bought a fancy new towel that slides right on to your beach chair. Please hold out, weather!
So I started this new kick. Being positive. Because I realized that I have become a rather temperamental be-yotch lately. Which I don’t mind so much, but I’m even starting to piss off myself with my grouchiness. Therefore, I’m attempting.
Unfortunately, it seemed like everyone else around me was having bad days and being cranky, which is hard to overcome. And then there’s my stupid wrist, which is more crampy than it was before I went to the doctor and started wearing the damn brace, and then the rest of my arm started hurting too from overcompensating. And thanks doc, I know you said I was cleared to work with a brace, but have you ever tried to grab boxes coming down a moving conveyor belt, jiggle them around under a half-broken scanner and then place them perfectly tetris-style in a plastic igloo without the use of the thumb on your dominant hand? I was hoping my left arm would become magically useful and I would move into ambidextrism, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. It’s either very stubborn or it takes a lot longer than a week to teach one’s moronic digital half to pick up the slack.
This is where I expect my cats to “poor you” me. But no! They still want to be fed. In fact, they seems to want to be fed more than usual. The non-winter Florida winter is making them ravenous. And I refuse to feed them more than they’re suppose to be fed. So guess what happens? MEOWING. SO MUCH MEOWING.
Usually it’s just Taco being a loud a-hole, but now Moosh is getting into the act with his high pitched MEEEEs. I came home from work tonight craving quiet, and Taco meowed for (and I’m NOT exaggerating here) a half an hour straight. At some point he was so worn out from meowing at me he actually stopped following me around and laid down to meow at me. They certainly weren’t starving. There was food in the food island. They know how to get it. Both of them. I guess it’s not as good as when you’re SERVED food.
Taco’s finally shut up, although he has a new, weird obsession with eating my clutch purse. The boyfriend is home and we’re sitting in football-induced silence, and it’s lovely. Yay.