Tagged: pets
Kitty mommy vent time.
I will never understand why it takes Taco two full days to stop hissing at Moosh when he gets back from the vet. It’s not like his scent isn’t EVERYWHERE. Sometimes I think they’re really smart, and sometimes I agree with the boyfriend about them having pea brains.
How can he not recognize his brother but recognize the couch as a place to pee?
This is where I vent.
I have no help with this couch pee thing. My vet has helped with all of the medical issues possible, and I’ve taken all the advice possible about helping him stay stress and FIC-flare-free.
Yet he peed on the couch again the other day. I don’t even really want to talk about it, because that means facing it, and yeah, I know, it’s a COUCH, but it’s OUR couch and while I’m totally ok with my crazy cat lady status, I’ve completely accepted that IS my life, I’m not ok with my house smelling like cat piss. I’d like to have people over. I’d like to utilize the couch for more than just the puppy pads that are currently adorning it. I’ve done everything to stop it. I don’t know what else to do. It’s a fairly new couch. Do I just accept that it’s never going to stop? Do we just get rid of the couch? What if we have it professionally cleaned and all and he pees on it again? What if we get rid of the couch and he just pees on the loveseat? I’m fully aware that there are worse problems in life. But this is MY life and I want a damn couch I can entertain people on. *I* would like to sit on my couch. MY usual seat was on that couch.
This brings me back to my failed bid at My Cat From Hell. When they responded that they wouldn’t be coming to Florida, they said that Jackson Galaxy sometimes does Skype consultations, and I could try. So I did. I got a response yesterday that he is currently filming and not available, but referred me to another cat behaviorist. So I checked that out. It’s TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS for a HALF HOUR PHONE CONSULTATION. I’m in the wrong effin’ business. Do I have to go to college for that? I’m already the go-to cat problem person for people I know. I need to start charging. Not trying to brag or anything, but over the years I feel like I’ve amassed enough cat knowledge through personal experience and my undying devotion to the babies that I’m probably pretty qualified already.
Jockeying for position on Ikea boxes.
Wow, what if the reason I always get the lemon cats is because one day (today?) I realized my calling? I’m 30 years old and I still don’t know what to do with my life. Maybe I’m supposed to be the girl Jackson Galaxy. I DO have tons of personality and tattoos. And I can thing of worse things than dealing with cats all day. And I could be MEAN to bad kitty owners, because I would get paid upfront, like these $225 consultation people.
But first, I need to fix this couch thing. So far I can’t find an answer. This is one of those times where I just want someone to tell me what to do, and I do it, and it works. This one is over my head.
So if anyone knows anyone that will help me help Taco to stop peeing on my couch for significantly less than 2 hundos, let me know. I’m tired of thinking about it.
Mommy instinct is fallible. And…I think it’s gonna be one of those months.
In case you were waiting with baited breath to find out how Moosh is…
He’s fine. This has been confirmed with a vet visit. He did pee on Monday so I wasn’t worried about crystals anymore but since hanging out in the bathtub randomly isn’t always a good sign either, I decided to take him anyway. This decision was partly based on the fact that he was also overdue for his yearly visit. That fact made me feel like much less of an overreacting freako crazy cat lady.
Listen, if there’s one really good thing you can say about crazy cat ladies, we know our kitties. (Well, that and we take an awful lot of cat pictures.) When something’s off, it’s off.
Such an angel.
But in this case, whatever was making Moosh more weird than normal had run its course by this morning, because he was acting perfectly fine. I rushed home from work, lured Moosh out from under the bed with treats and tried to stuff him in the carrier before he was fully awake. Didn’t work. The boyfriend came home just as I was attempting this lovely task, guess who got to help? And guess who got clawed? Sorry baby, thanks so much for the help though!
For a laid back cat, Moosh sure hates the cat carrier. He NEVER meows, except for when he’s hungry, and then it’s a wussy ass “meeewp” but in the carrier, he’s like Taco times 10. He’s really got quite a range.
Escape while you can!
Anyway. He’s all normal. Including his weirdness, he’s back to his normal weird, instead of the weird weird. The vet pointed out that it may be the changing weather or changing furniture. Probably has something to with the glass breakage too. I found another giant chunk of it tonight. Not quite sure where that was hiding. These boys are lucky they’re not sliced to hell. Taco, on the other hand, didn’t even eat tonight because he’s too busy hissing at Moosh. This will last 3 days. Come ON, Taco, it’s only your freakin’ brother that you see every freakin’ day. He can’t possibly smell THAT different. Starve, then. See if I care. You eat your brother’s food all the time anyway. It’s about time you know how he feels.
Taco hiding out in the closet from Moosh. THAT’S a switch.
My boys are crazy. Just like their mother.
Oh, and then I got home, and decided to check my coolant levels because it smelled like burning antifreeze. Surprise! There’s a leak. I just got a new radiator, I am going to assume that is the most expensive thing that would cause a leak and I can rule that one out, so we’ll pretend for now that it will be a cheap fix. See? Power of positive thinking in effect. At least my babies are healthy. And I have a boyfriend willing to take a claw for me.
And I got to gush over these adorable babies at the vet!
Squeal!
Kitty mommy stress
The boyfriend and I went to Ikea this weekend to buy a new desk, one that makes me feel more grown-up (I’ve had my old one since high school) and a bookcase. This weekend has been a whirlwind of putting stuff together and reorganizing (not even remotely finished with that).
This may be me overreacting, but Moosh is acting weird. I mean, he’s a weird cat anyway so that alone wouldn’t be cause for alarm, but I also noticed that when I cleaned out the upstairs litter box yesterday (which I’d forgotten to do all week), the one that Moosh frequents, there was no pee. None. There was enough pee in the downstairs one that it could have been the work of two normal, healthy cats, but it struck me as odd.
But now I think he’s acting funny. I couldn’t find him this morning and finally did in Jason’s shower. He likes to jump in there, but usually right out. Not like, hang out there. Especially when treats are offered. Other than that he’s just acting funny. Sometimes he’s acting totally fine, and then he does random things. He spent all day under the bed, but I think that’s his new spot, so that part might be ok. And he’s eating fine. But there was only one pee in the downstairs box today and Taco peed on the couch again (that’s a whole ‘nother story) so statistically it seems likely that the pee in the box was Moosh’s, right? I pushed him in his a bazillion times and he keeps jumping right out and looking at me like I’m an asshole.
Kinda like this face.
If you have a male cat, you may already know about crystals. Crystals are a male cat owner’s nightmare. They stop up the peeing process and kitty gets sick. Really sick. And if you don’t get them to the vet in time, they can die. Best case scenario is a very expensive vet visit/stay.
I THINK, though, that crystal-inflicted kitties still go in the box and try. Moosh hasn’t. So I’m trying to not worry. The rational part of me (rarely the part that wins out in a worry situation) says he’s probably fine, he’s probably acting funny because a) when we came home from Ikea yesterday, there was a smashed glass on the kitchen floor, which I deduced that Moosh decided to go in the cabinet and at some point knocked out a glass that hit the counter on its way to the floor, so that may have freaked him out a bit and b) there’s two new, large pieces of furniture in the house that he doesn’t recognize.
I’m still worried. I will continue to worry until there is a properly soiled litterbox or until I take him to the vet. Worry, unfortunately, is what I do best.
Sorry Officer, it’s the cat’s fault.
Let me just start out by saying Mondays are a bitch. It’s always harder to wake up on a Monday because you always ruin your sleep schedule over the weekend even if you swear ahead of time that you’re not going to. So like every other Monday morning, I hit snooze until I absolutely HAD to get up. Just enough time to brush teeth, throw clothes on, feed cats, leave. Only this morning, once I got to the “feeding cat” part, I noticed there was no Taco. Mr. “HEYHEYHEYLOOKITME” always underfoot. This is unheard of. I mean, he’s spent ALL NIGHT without food! He’s usually my alarm clock. So, instead of sticking with my really tight time schedule, I went hunting for him. I even woke up the boyfriend (sorry honey) who didn’t have to be at work until 9. Looked in all the closets and hiding spaces. He finally emerged from INSIDE THE COUCH after some vigorous treat shaking. I knew he hadn’t gotten out, but for him to miss feeding, I have images of him sick somewhere and hiding. No. He was in the damn couch. IN IT.
Such an angel…NOT
Some may call my driving style aggressive, I like to call it defensive and speedy. I don’t SPEED-speed, but I hate driving so I want to get it over with as quickly as possible. This means I don’t want to be stuck behind some douche doing 35 in a 45. Which is where I found myself this morning, already running late because Taco was in the effing couch. So I tailgated a little, had an opening to get over, and I did. Annnnddddd that’s when I got pulled over.
Unmarked sheriff, yay. And he yelled at me. Like, YELLED. I didn’t even need to make myself cry, because it happened naturally. And he barked questions like “Do you even have insurance” and “Are you driving on a suspended license” (apparently my driving is bad enough that my license should be suspended? Come on. I drive a Volvo. I at least give the appearance of being responsible) — and this was all why I was frantically trying to find my registration in the mess of doom that is my glove box.
Then he surprised me by coming back and asking me to give him a good reason he shouldn’t give me a ticket for (I’m paraphrasing here) being the worst driver and human being in the world (I’m not sure what he said exactly, but his tone left that impression) and I stammered out something about being late because my cat was missing and it freaked me out and ended with “It’s Monday.” Either he’s a softy for kitties or he understands the painfulness of Mondays, because he was much nicer as he told me he was just giving me a warning and I should get to work safely and to drive better. I’m glad I didn’t point out that driving 10 miles under the speed limit is equally unsafe. Or tell him that my focus sucked because I was wearing my glasses instead of contacts which really messes up my peripheral vision.
That’s when I decided that I was going to appreciate my day from then on because it could only go up from there, and you know what? That worked. I had (so far) a very uneventful and productive Monday. So thanks, sir, although you made me feel like crap, you ultimately made my day better. And I should probably remember not to drive like SO much of an asshole. People still shouldn’t be driving 35 in a 45. Don’t you have somewhere to be?
This is what I do during red lights. I’m hilarious.
The boyfriend texted me later to tell me that he discovered that it was a frog that was under the couch. It’s still somewhere in here because when he went to go get it, it jumped back under. So yeah. Not only is Taco perfectly fine, he wasn’t even hiding. He was just going after live food rather than his normal morning boring food.
Never a dull moment!
Another night of shaking my fist at football.
I would post something incredibly and insightful about my kitties tonight…except I’m too busy hating football again. The cats hid in closets and under beds to avoid my wrath today. My fantasy football teams are complete crap. I was a 20-point favorite in one. Julio Jones, you kill me. I’m now 0-4 in my other league, and I have the most points scored against me, even though my own points would put me in 2nd if fantasy football went that way. But it doesn’t, so what that means is the person I play each week has an outstanding week, and despite the fact that my team is consistently good, it’s not enough THAT WEEK.
On the plus side, I did get a laptop, so I can watch my fantasy football demise from anywhere! Well, I could do that with my phone, too. I did get the iPhone5. It’s so much faster. I like. The best part is that the camera takes much less time to load, giving me a better chance of getting a good kitty pic while something is happening.
I also had to watch the Bucs game on my laptop because the game was blacked out locally. It looked pretty full to me, but what do I know? Thank goodness for the internet and streaming. Unfortunately, I had to watch them LOSE. So close, yet so far. Last minute heartbreak.
I’m also having way too much fun with Photo Booth. Taco not so much.
The Sunday night game, which I am currently watching (while writing this! I love having a laptop. Amazing.) features a team with a quarterback that I would not mind seeing crippled. I’m not saying that because it would benefit my fantasy football team, it’s because it’s Michael Vick. I don’t think people who kill dogs in cold blood ever really “change.” I don’t care how good he is, I’ll never put him on my fantasy team. I cheer for the defense of whoever he’s playing.
This is a very all-over-the-place post. Sunday venting. So cathartic.
At least I have my iToys!
YOUR LOSS, ANIMAL PLANET
Surprisingly, I received a response from the My Cat From Hell people, asking where I was located. In case you missed the post about how I answered their casting call, you can see that here. I was overly hopeful because in the past, they only asked for people living in the LA are, which, if you’re familiar with geography, is rather far from Florida, although not in the grand scheme of things. Hawaii is much farther. I am incredibly grateful that I was able to vacation there a few years ago but they really need to do something about the long plane ride. Frankly, I’m amazed that no one has come up with a less deadly version of the Concorde yet. How were they more technologically advanced in the EIGHTIES??? So back to the point, that they didn’t have a requirement, and the fact that they answered me back in what seemed to NOT be a form email got my hopes up that my cat pee couch dilemma was interesting enough for them to consider our little family of furballs.
Until I got the email that said “Thanks, but you’re too far.” (That’s not a direct quote, I paraphrased.) Oh well. I think Florida is a perfect place for Jackson to come. We have many unique kitty challenges, like not having real dirt, just a dirt-like sand that is the favorite of fleas, as well as not having a winter that gets cold enough to kill off the fleas, and even if you have indoor-only cats (which of course I do, because in addition to sociopaths and vehicles, we have alligators and supposedly coyotes but I’ve never seen one of those) fleas will come in unbeknownst to you clinging to your socks like a hobo on a train. They’re a bitch to get rid of. How come dogs don’t seem to have as much of a problem? They go out every time nature calls. And they ROLL AROUND in the dirt that the fleas love so much. Cat fur better? Everything cat is better. I could do without the fleas, though.
But alas, the boyfriend and I are just going to have to bite the bullet and do something about the couch and the figuring out of how to ensure that Taco never uses it as a litter box again. For now, though, I’m going to continue to procrastinate. Would have been so much easier to have someone to fix the problem for us. For a smart girl, I’m awfully lazy.
Giving back without burning out.
I’m pretty logical about everything, even being illogical. There’s an explanation for everything, even if it’s not scientifically measurable yet. But I still cling to my belief in karma. I don’t necessarily think that bad things happen to bad people all the time, but I think that bad people do bad things because they’re not right in the head, and are probably unhappy, or too stupid to realize they’re unhappy. I think not being able to enjoy the good things in life is karma in itself.
Taco reflecting on life.
I don’t consider myself a “lucky” person because there IS no luck, there are only seemingly random happenings that are taken as “good luck” or “bad luck” depending on the person’s viewpoint. An unhappy, negative person will see the bad in the things rather than the good, and vice versa. It’s kind of like when you’re having a bad day, where it seems like one unlucky thing happens after another…it’s probably not really more than any other day, but one of those things in the beginning of the day put you in a bad mood where you notice those little annoying things more and therefore think your day is cursed. I have those days. We all do. I’m a firm believer in wallowing to get over stuff, so when I have those days, I let myself be annoyed and shake my fist at the universe for allowing these horrible (but not really horrible, everything is usually pretty minor in comparison) things to happen to me ALL IN ONE DAY. Then I get over it.
That being said, I have a pretty decent life. I wish that I had the time or energy to give back. I’m not a huge fan of people but I would love to volunteer at a shelter. I’m gonna be honest and say that I’m not really sure that I could handle it even if I had the time, though. Animals affect me in a way that no social injustice ever could. I can see myself getting attached and hurt a lot. I can’t distance myself. I get sad about ratty looking stray cats in my neighborhood just LOOKING at them. And I’m pretty sure most of hem aren’t even strays, just cats that have owners that are too selfish to realize what a horrible idea it is to let their cats roam. It’s not exactly rural here.
Taco forced to live under a newspaper.
It takes me DAYS to get over seeing a dead cat on the side of the road. Hell, I’ll cry about dead SQUIRRELS. How can I be trusted to see animals that have no home all in one place? Ones that may never find their forever home. I can’t bring them all home, even if I could it would be horribly irresponsible of me and unfair to the cats. I like dogs enough, not near the level that I like cats but they’ll bring a tear to my eye too. I just don’t really like being jumped on. And they’re a little smelly for me. But they’re just as innocent and loving.
He’s loved.
Maybe one day I’ll have the time AND figure out how to balance my overly emotional self. Until then I’ll have to help my “karma” by donating when I can and spreading good kitty information. I fancy myself somewhat of an expert in that arena, anyway.
Honey Boo Boo got nothin’ on my cats.
I have to admit, I love my fair share of horrid reality shows. I watch Dance Moms, So You Think You Can Dance, Jersey Shore and some new one I found on CMT, Cheer. I have, as of this moment, been able to resist Honey Boo Boo. The only reason I know about Honey Boo Boo is that this child and her redneckiness make the news. Really? The NEWS? Because there’s not, you know, an election coming up, or political unrest, or other completely valid news-y things to report on. With the exception of Jersey Shore, I maintain that my reality show watching is at least based on hard work and talent. I suppose child pageants have talent shows, but still.
Moosh would make the BEST pageant contestant.
I did, actually, answer the My Cat From Hell casting call. They’re finally branching out from LA, which is good, because Florida is nowhere near LA, and in fact, I’ve never been there. I wrote a very compelling email, and then guided them to my blog. I don’t know if it will even get read, but this blog is as comprehensive as you can possibly get in documenting all of my cats’ issues. I am HOPING that the producers find my cat pee couch story interesting enough that they help me. Cat pee couch hasn’t been done on the show yet. And I really really really want to fix Taco and have my couch back.
Taco is just so freaking cute.
And it does cause problems in my relationship. The boyfriend is not as connected to the boys as I am, although I know he loves them dearly, but he’s definitely not on crazy cat lady status. It’s frustrating enough to have a cat peeing on the couch and being personally upset by it, and then add in the friction of the boyfriend’s frustration and some weird form of guilt (I was raised catholic, although I’m an atheist now, the catholic guilt is ENGRAINED permanently) because we most likely wouldn’t have cats if I wasn’t a crazy cat lady who needs cats.
Anyway. I hope they at least give me a chance. We’re very interesting, and Taco could have his OWN damn show. Not to take away from Moosh, he’s my lover kitty, and Taco is the entertaining one. He’s also more photogenic, and I do kind of feel bad that I have more pictures of Taco on my instagram than Moosh, but half the time when I take Moosh’s pic he just looks like a ball of black fur.
Oh, and my favorite reality show of all? FOOTBALL! Sundays are fun days again. Except when my fantasy team loses, which is likely this week as my tight end got me a big fat goose egg on Thursday. Can’t win em all, I suppose.
Forced brotherly love.
It’s afternoon, so it’s kitty sleepy time. Taco was asleep in the computer chair, while Moosh was in his makeshift cat bed that wasn’t supposed to be a cat bed but converted to one once I realized that he was going to continue to use it as a cat bed whether I liked it or not.
The boyfriend wanted to sit in the computer chair occupied by sleeping Taco, so he picked him up without disturbing his position and placed him right on top of sleeping Moosh.
What happened?
Nothing.
The afternoon sleepy is the sleepiest of all. They were both too sleepy to protest. I was surprised that neither of them moved, and even more surprised when they STILL didn’t move while I got my phone and snapped some pictures.
Whatevs. Crazy humans.
Another picture? Yup.
After about 10 minutes of this, Moosh had enough, stood up, which annoyed Taco, and moved to the box next to the bed. Taco, being annoyed, grabbed on to his back leg and tried to swipe him but both were really too tired to pursue anything more and resumed sleeping. Which they’re still doing. I wish I slept that well.
New cat drama, yay!
Like I really want new cat drama.
These little devils cause gray hairs.
Today, Taco has puked 5 times. All throughout the day. There’s really nothing in the house that he could have gotten into and he’s acting perfectly fine otherwise. We’ve taken him to the vet before for the puking, and she said that based on his age and the normal tests, it was likely just upset stomach and prescribed him Pepcid AC. Yes, the human kind.
Only Taco, being the smart little asshole he is, figured out Pill Pockets, and refuses to eat them anymore. So when he stopped puking so much and started ignoring the Pill Pockets, I just gave up. Since then, here and there he’s been pukey, but really, what cat isn’t? Even Moosh pukes sometimes. Mostly hairballs, I mean, it IS Florida and all, and I see how much hair they have. It’s only natural. I hear pumpkin puree is supposed to work for that, has anyone tried it?
Anyway, I don’t think it’s the hairballs today. He’s puked up all his food AND some Greenies (which will turn your beige carpet a lovely shade of green!) and even did the weird MEOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW thing that cats do right before they puke…only MY cats have never done it right before they puke. In fact, the only reason I know about the MEOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW “I’m about to puke” noise is from Jager…who was sick with FIP. My vet said that the noise was normal, but I now associate it with a dying kitten (which I know, logically, isn’t what’s wrong with Taco as it’s really only a disease that hits cats under 2, and usually way younger than that) and that’s extraordinarily unnerving.
And this is supposed to be my vacation week and I was looking forward to “me” time tomorrow (by vacation week I mean I have the week off one job and 1 and a half days at my day job which may not seem like a vacation week to you but believe me, it is to me) but now it looks like I’m going to have to take Taco to the vet, which also makes me feel like a horrible cat mom and horrible person in general for lamenting the loss of my “me” day for what could be a sick kitty. But something always happens on my days off. And I don’t get a lot of them. Plus, the vet costs money. Money I don’t want to spend at the vet. I love my vet, but really, I would like to see less of her. Just got the “Time for Moosh vaccinations!” postcard in the mail the other day. I should really get a volume discount.
But I suppose I should be happy I’m not getting hit with a hurricane and using my day off to evacuate. And although the RNC is going on just on the other side of the bay, I haven’t had any run-ins with crazy republicans. I did, however, put my “Republicans Hate Kittens” sticker on my car (it has a sad kitty face on it too) in hopes that I offend someone. I reason that any republican who actually does not hate kittens is probably an ok person and wouldn’t be offended by such a sticker anyway. I see the bright side. I guess I just feel like wallowing today. In addition to worrying about the kitty.
MEOW hear this! 