Archive for the ‘The Cat’ Category
Look, no one needs to remind us we’re dorks. But dude, his cat is an iPad game wizard.
p.s. No we did not buy baby toys, my sister-in-law gave us a box.
p.p.s. Yes we are going to be awesome parents, obviously.
So last week I started to notice that my husband’s cat, Karma, wasn’t eating her normal amounts of food. Our cats get fed 3 times a day, moist food only. Our vet is the one who suggested this diet and it’s because when given dry cat food Karma gains weight like it’s her job.
Before we switched to the (gross) wet stuff, she weighed 16 pounds. She’s now a svelte 14 pounds. Never mind that my cat eats the exact same amount of food and weighs a little under 12 pounds. Apparently exercise does impact your weight.
Anyways, not eating is not like her, especially the magnitude of the food strike.
And then we noticed how much water she was drinking. Because the cats get moist food, they’re not big water drinkers, but suddenly the water cup was half empty every day. To say we were alarmed would be an understatement. I think we had all but diagnosed her with kitty diabetes.
And then she started being loving and totally stopped biting me and I was convinced that she must be dying because there’s no other explanation for that.
We started closely watching how much she ate, and trying to see if she preferred a certain color can of cat food since there are 3 different kinds in the box or if different times of day were better. But mostly, she was just really not eating much at all. Sometimes she would only lap up the liquid and leave the rest. My cat thought that this was the best week of his life because he got endless double meals, but we were scared.
Because we’re going out of town for a week this weekend, we decided that if things didn’t turn around by Tuesday, we’d go see the vet.
Now, throughout the weekend, we heard some cabinets opening/closing. I didn’t think much of it because cabinet opening is a new skill for my cat and now he’s decided he needs to get into every cabinet no matter what. I mean, I found him snuggling with our extra toilet paper in the hall cabinet last week. So the noises were not out of the ordinary.
Until I heard a cabinet close just as I went to go feed the cats. And when I opened the cat food cabinet what did I find in this cabinet? I found Jacques-Imo, eating from an almost empty (but previously HALF FULL) bag of dry cat food under the sink. And I found Karma, finishing chewing a mouthful of the dry stuff herself.
You guys, these cats totally freaking played me. My husband’s cat was not on a food strike at all, she was eating ALL DAY LONG. She was having a dry cat food buffet and was then too full to eat her normal food. They always drink more water when they’re on the dry stuff. All the pieces clicked together. And since this discovery we’ve found her in the cupboard looking for her snacks about 100 times. She even figured out where I moved the cat food to and is now trying to squeeze her largeness into that small cabinet to get some more.
Thankfully we didn’t take her to the vet or lose any extra sleep over this since she is clearly going to be just fine. You’ll all be pleased to know that since we caught on to her tricks and removed her dry food buffet she has resumed eating normal meals and being as mean as ever. It’s nice to have our Karma back, bitch face and all.
Because when I see a small creature doing something that is potentially really dangerous, my very first thought is, can I get a picture of that before he stops? And yes, he is on top of the refrigerator, because of course he is.
Also, because I love that small creature so much it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.
I don’t think I’ve ever made a great secret of how much I love my cat. It’s a lot, almost a ridiculous amount. I literally cannot tell you how much I love him, but even I know that he is dumb as rocks.
He loves nothing more in the whole wide world than food. He’s not picky. He likes cold food, hot food, good food, old food. Given the chance to eat Green Eggs and Ham, he’d eat them absolutely any-freaking-where. He is pretty much Dr. Seuss’s dream.
Most animals can handle eating one or two times a day, but not the Shmo. Eating twice a day results in a cat who is up in your grill all the time and not in a loving way. In a pouncing on your abdomen from great heights way. In a chasing and tormenting the other cat so you have to pay attention to him kind of way. Basically he’s like a 2 year old. You will pay attention to him, dammit.
Tonight we had Chinese food because I just didn’t feel like cooking. Twice while I was eating, he stuck his quick white little paw directly in my bowl to steal a piece of chicken. KATIE DOESN’T SHARE. Especially when he just ate like 10 minutes before, no way was he hungry already. I must have tossed him off the couch (yea, that’s where we were eating dinner, don’t judge me) 20 times in the 10 minutes we were eating. He was told many times that he needed to check himself before he wrecked himself. No such checkage occurred.
After we finished, my husband put the chicken bones from his Chinese food in a bowl, a bowl that the cat promptly stuck his face in and stole bits out of. The first two times, we got the bones from him. The third, he got something and ATE it before we could. We’re pretty sure it wasn’t an actual chicken bone as much as a hard part that wasn’t boney, but either way, now we’re watching him and I’ll probably call the vet tomorrow just to be safe.
And if that wasn’t enough, while I was disposing of the chicken wings that he continued to try to get into after we removed him from the scene like 20 times, I realized that he was into something else. By the time I got there, he had eaten through a ziploc bag and had taken a couple nice bites out of a donut. Because what else do you eat after a chicken bone/hard part than a baggy and a donut?
Why does my cat eat like he’s high? If he had chips, he’d totally be eating those too right now.
I just do not know what to do with this cat. I guess it’s a really good thing he’s cute, because I think he’s taken a few years off my life.
So this weekend we moved.
Or I guess we’re still moving since we still have at least one car load of crap left at our old place. A car load of crap I simply cannot motivate myself to get, especially since in our own personal method, none of it is boxed up and it will all have to be collected, boxed and then put in the car. Sometimes our procrastination tendencies seriously bite us in the ass. I’ll worry about that later though.
Friday we packed in earnest for the first time, despite my fool proof “pack one room a day” plan. It was more like, pack one item a day and then get distracted by anything other than packing. So Friday was packing hell.
Saturday morning we got up at the crack of dawn, loaded each of our cars and drove out to the new place (30 miles from the old one) and got the keys and information. Can I just say that them not doing the walk through with us, but instead having us do it and turn it in in 3 days is like the dumbest thing any apartment complex has ever done? Yea, all 30 of those scuff marks in the stair well were definitely there before we moved in. And no, they don’t perfectly match the color of the paint/wood/metal of the furniture upstairs. Of course not.
My dad and step-grandpa came and helped us move, and truly we couldn’t have done it without them. They loaded two trailers full of our stuff and they worked harder than two men should ever work on a Saturday in 90+ degree heat. After all was said and done the only collateral damage was 1 wine glass, which I think is pretty impressive. Especially since we have at least 7 other wine glasses that we never use anyways.
Oh and maybe my dad’s back. Since my husband thought it would be funny to label his extremely heavy book boxes like this, not understanding that sarcasm doesn’t always translate when written in Sharpie on a box on moving day.
The only really dumb decision we made (besides choosing to move into a two story townhome) was inviting my mother-in-law. My father-in-law was immensely helpful, as were my brother-in-law and nephew. But my MIL spent about 100% of her time making comments about the things we were doing wrong, prompting even my father to ask if we had killed her by the end of the night (the answer was no). The woman has impeccable taste and can be super helpful when decorating a new place, but she struggles a bit with the biting her tongue about imperfect things thing.
We brought the cats late Saturday night after all the major things were moved in and all the family left. I’m not sure how to sum up the experience. It was by far the longest 30 mile car ride of all time. Shmo started the meowing, then he and Karma had a repeated chorus back and forth for what felt like several years in the back seat. Each meow getting progressively louder than the first, to the point that it resembled the talking Carl fight.
And then we brought them inside and Karma took the very cautious explorer route, which was to be expected, she has moved before, she can handle it. She eventually found her way to a sink and was fine.
Shmo on the other hand has never really lived anywhere besides our old apartment and he freaked the hell out. He burrowed under the couch, which is barely tall enough for him to smoosh his head under. Then we finally convinced him to go up the stairs (okay, fine, I picked him up, him silently hissing the whole time, and brought him upstairs) and he immediately burrowed under the bed. The burrowing was his coping mechanism, it was almost cute until he decided to burrow under the covers of the bed at 3 in the morning and in between my husband’s pillows at 5.
Okay fine, the burrowing in the pillows was still cute.
Shmo also spent the whole first night hissing at Karma, I’m pretty sure he blamed her, which I was kind of okay with. Better her than me. He seems better now, he’s nearly returned to his role as king of the house. Or at least king of the mess of boxes for now.
We are all adjusting and exhausted and still not even close to unpacked, which is unfortunate. But we are getting there. It only took us two days to realize that the kitchen didn’t have a microwave, so you know, we’re totally on top of things. I’m hoping to have pictures of the place by this weekend to share with you next week, but don’t hold me to that. There’s no telling what method I’ll find for procrastination between now and then.
I feel like a pretty terrible cat mother for not remembering and subsequently missing the anniversary of date we got you two years ago. It turns out that you’ve lived with us for 2 years and a week now, though most days it doesn’t seem that long.
You turned 2 in April and I totally believe that because in cat years you are 14 and you could not be more of a teenager if you tried. You sleep all day if left alone, then get a burst of energy and do something destructive. You would eat us out of house and home if you could (last time we left you with a bowl full of cat food you ate for 15 minutes without taking a breath and when Karma approached the bowl you shot her a look that could’ve killed her dead). You love nothing more than tormenting karma and you mount her like it’s your job. Thankfully you guys are not biologically related because that would be icky.
You still snuggle, though those moments have been a little fewer and farther between in the past month or so. I want to blame it on dad’s night float schedule, which seemed to totally confuse the hell out of your internal clock (do I sleep when you sleep or when you sleep? Or BOTH?), but I think it might be that you’re becoming more of an independent cat. Which makes my heart a little sad.
Though to be fair, you’re asleep on my lap while I’m writing this, so the snuggle isn’t completely out of you.
This weekend we’re moving. For now you’re enamored with all the boxes and bags and pretty much think that this is the best! thing! ever! But I know that the move will be scary for you. You are not the best in the car and the new apartment will take some getting used to. Dad thinks you’re going to fail miserably at stairs, but I have more faith in you. And I promise not to laugh too much when you prove me wrong.
It’s funny, because when we had only one cat, I begged and pleaded for a second. For four years Dad said no. But finally he said yes and though I still oooh and aaah at kittens, I don’t really want one anymore. We are good, the four of us. You completed us and made us the most perfect, though disturbing cat lady kind of family. You filled the snuggle void that Karma, and her need to bite anyone who considers touching her, had left wide open. You are rambunctious and excitable and a little destructive. But you are still the sweetest of all kitties ever.
When we picked you out, we were afraid you were going to be too mellow, and boy were we wrong. Even though I yell at you to get off Karma and stop chewing through coffee pods about 20 million times a day, know that we still love you just an absolutely ridiculous amount. Like, to the point that it might be pathological. I mean, people on the internet will judge me for this letter even though it is totally meant to be read as a tongue-in-cheek mild mockery of letters to infants who have just turned one month old.
But, it doesn’t change that there is just no better cat than you. And no crazier cat lady than me.
For the past two months, my phone has been slowly dying. In order to turn it off you had to squeeze the top really tightly and press the button just right. And even then it only turned off about 40% of the time. There were pieces cracking off and if I didn’t keep a cover on it, it looked dangerously like the screen was going to separate. It probably would’ve lasted a lot longer if I didn’t drop it 800 times.
We got our iPhones in June of 2008 and I knew our contracts were up soon, so I had a good case to persuade my husband to go phone looking.
So we went to AT&T to see when our contracts were up and I was super excited when they said “tomorrow.” Score, the new phones were a total possibility. We talked about our plan and discovered that we had the fewest number of minutes we could, so there was no way to save money and frankly, we weren’t all that thrilled with the service. The new iPhones were the same price we knew they’d be, the service would be the same. Basically, we could stick with AT&T and just pay for the phones and nothing else would change.
So we decided to try Verizon. The first thing they asked when we walked in was where we worked. And guess what? My husband’s hospital qualifies him for a discount. It’s about time being married to a doctor got me something. And oh guess what else? They pay you to trade in your old iPhones. Oh and their new iPhones are cheaper. And their network is 20 times better.
Yea, it was a really tough decision for us.
I am now the proud owner of a white iPhone 4. It has taken me about 3 days to get it organized and learn the new tricks, but now that it’s set up, I am in love. I admit it, I am an Apple product junkie.
And best of all, it has two cameras. All the better to take a bajillion pictures of my cats with.
So, I actually had something I wanted to write about tonight, but it’s all deep and full of feelings and I just don’t have it in me. So I’m literally phoning it in. I was thinking of something to cheer myself up and then I remembered that I have 400 pictures on my iPhone, of which approximately 90% are of my cat. So instead of feelings, I present you with the many faces of the Shmo.
Come back tomorrow and I’ll take another stab at this “writing” thing.
When we moved into this apartment complex in the summer of 2009, it was shiny and new. No one else had lived in it, the carpet was brand new, the tile, the kitchen. It was just so fancy. It felt fancy to live in it.
And then we got my cat.
Let’s just say that things are not shiny and new anymore.
The first thing to go was the carpet. The cat quickly discovered that the weakness of the house was the corners. Apparently the corners were not tacked down well because it took him approximately seven seconds to tear them up. All of them. Every single corner of our apartment. And there are A LOT of corners.
And then he discovered that if he ran full speed at the living room coffee table, he could knock every single item off of it in one fell swoop. The best was the time we left a full glass of pomegranate juice on the table. In case you wondered, nothing gets pomegranate juice out of carpet. Not even rageful cleaning.
The next attack was to the blinds, primarily because though he tried to damage the walls, running head first into them wasn’t really making much of a dent. As it stands, 2/3 of the long vertical blinds have tiny little teeth holes in them and because we are the KLASSIEST, our bedroom blinds are taped together because someone loves nothing more than sticking his head between them to look out, or even better, walk around behind them.
This is apparently even more fun in the middle of the night, in case you wondered.
We’re currently trying to figure out if we can move this summer into some place a little bigger and a little closer to my husband’s work, but the whole issue of not getting back a single dime of our deposit is slowing us down. As is the prospect of having to pay for a crapload of damage to a new place.
Because even though he’s not a rambunctious kitten anymore, it takes about 6 miliseconds for this cute little face to go from adorable
to the devil.
The money sucking, savings draining, cute face devil.
It’s a really good thing I love him and that he’s adorable, because otherwise I’m not sure what we’d do.