Cats.

I have three. This does not make me creepy cat lady, as you have to have four to be a creepy cat lady. I READ THAT SOMEWHERE, IT MUST BE TRUE.

/looks pointedly east.

Now then. I love all of my cats, even the anti-social pansy one who hates me so much he refuses to come out from under the couch when I pass. Griff’s my fat, lazy gentleman who doesn’t do much wrong unless you have a cup of coffee or iced coffee, at which point he will climb all over you (all 17 pounds and 43 feet of him) and just annoy the crap out of you. That’s tolerable. No, I’d like to talk about ‘my’ cat, Samara. She’s definitely a Momma’s Girl and follows me around the house meowing. I think this is how half of her life has been spent anyway. “OH LOOK, THE FEMALE IS MOVING. I SHALL TALK AT HER AND FOLLOW HER BECAUSE CLEARLY WHERE SHE GOES I MUST GO TOO. SQUEEEEEEEE.”

That in itself would not be so bad, except for the fact that she’s so spoiled (not my fault?) that she believes my food is her food. So this is a list of foods Samara will maul you to steal: yogurt, grapes, tomatoes, milk, fresh fruit, cheese, bread, and now apparently, apple sauce. I think that might be it. By far the WORST of those? Tomatoes. There was one time when we were living in the apartment that we had pasta for dinner. She was a typical pain in the ass, begging for food, climbing on my desk to try and stick her head into my plate. When I smacked her on the butt and tossed her away, she sulked and stalked into the kitchen. About five minutes later there was this HUGE clamor and a very very distress MREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOW. I ran into the kitchen expecting to find the cat on fire. No, nope. Not my Samara. She’d trash picked and was licking the inside of the tomato sauce can and had unfortunately gotten her head stuck in it. She was running through the house shaking her head screaming, and inevitably bashing into shit she couldn’t see. When I popped the can off of her head, she was smeared in tomato sauce. It bothered her for a whopping twenty seconds and then she settled down to clean herself, as happy as can be.

The thing that sparked this post today was she actually leaped at me to get my apple sauce. I was trying to enjoy it for my breakfast, and then OHMYGODKITTENAERIALATTACK. I managed to keep my hold on it so there wasn’t an apple sauce catastrophe all over my rug, but Jesus Christ. I love her, but sometimes I have no idea what the crap to do with her.

Bad Kitty, No Biscuit.

/gets mauled

11 thoughts on “Cats.

  1. No, not geography fail. I live one town east of her, and I have four cats. Though, I don’t know if Chloe counts as a full cat. She hates everyone.Now I have to see about revising my Christmas card list, since obviously you two wouldn’t want to receive mail from a creepy cat lady. How embarrassing.

  2. I have discussed with CharlietheBeagle that my most beloved EastCoast friendies have cats. He went and sulked about it, dug in the yard about it, I gave him cookies and he agreed it’s ok for me to continue being friends with you. He indicated he would like to meet you some day. We will both lick your faces in glee.

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