Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Having Cats

Early this morning, like around five, one of my two cats came into the bedroom and started wailing. Since I speak Cat, I understood her to be saying, "Get up and feed me. Now." I told her, in as loving a way possible, to shut the fuck up. An hour later she was back, more insistent this time, reminding me that she is 19 and does not have too much time left in this particular life. I threw a pillow at her. Finally at 6:45 I got out of bed, went downstairs to the kitchen and fed the damn cat. She took like two licks of the stuff, then stood at the back door like she was Princess Diana and I was one of the palace guards. (I would say Princess Kate, but she seems more down to earth and probably opens her own doors.) Groggily, I let Daisy out. Five minutes later, while I was cleaning her litter box, always a pleasant way to start the day, she was back.

Naturally I let her in. Talk about adding insult to injury, she went to the clean litter box and peed in it. This is annoying at best, since she was just outside in God's Green Toilet and could have gone anywhere, instead of inside our home. In fact, both my cats prefer indoor plumbing, and after being outside for hours come back inside and use the litter box and foul up the house. They understand this, since a cat's sense of smell is said to be 14 times stronger than a human's, and so they do it purposefully. Anyway, after using the facilities she went back to the door. I let her out. Then about four minutes later, while I was desperately making myself coffee, she was back. I let her in. Now she's sitting at the door looking outside, swishing and slapping her tail on the floor in obvious displeasure, like when the hell am I gonna drop whatever it is I'm doing to let her out.

Not sure how this is fun.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz

It's hard to believe that what began in 2004 as an innocent tool intended for Harvard college boys to meet attractive coeds on campus ha...