Monday, April 10, 2006

More responsible decision making

Recently someone said to me, "You never talk about your cats." That's patently untrue. I never talk nicely about my cats. And this post may not be any exception.

I do love my cats. They are infuriating but delightful. Elvis is a complete phobic but he's aggressive about it. He'll use all 20 claws to push off my bare leg in order to get out of range of...well, of...well, he's not sure what of but it made a quietly funny noise and he's not taking any chances.

I fear that Anna is braver solely because she's not quite as bright and she knows it. I fear that in her head she thinks, "Well, it seems sort of scary but I'm not playing with a full can of Friskies here so I should probably stick around and see if it's actually scary." So she stays. She is also immune to the messages conveyed by, say, pushing her off my lap. "Hey!" she seems to say, "You pushed me off your lap, careful there, I was just getting settled." And back she comes. Not to be deterred by repeated dumpings off of the couch, the bed, the chair, the counter, the sink, the toilet, my lap, my arm, my shoulder or similar. She likes to knead her little paws, too, preferably on bare flesh.

Elvis beats up the dog. The cats beat each other up. Everyone beats up on me. So, sometimes, when I want to get something done, not every day, and, really they do like it, I give the little monsters some cat nip. I have to keep the cat nip in the freezer because if it's anywhere but the freezer they can smell it and will do anything to get to it. I found Elvis firing up an acetylene torch, wearing little goggles and everything when I put that stuff in a metal lockbox once. He's not kidding around.

These pictures are from a recent "nipping". Once sated everyone goes to their corners to think peaceful thoughts. I walked by the bookcase and there was Anna, in a demure pose, and with half her ass hanging off the top of the 7 foot tall bookcase. I thought to myself, "Oh dear, this can only end in tragedy." Then I got the camera.

No animals were harmed, she actually didn't roll over and off the bookcase and fall onto the dog who leapt up and screamed and scared Elvis who was lying across my shoulders and as a result gouged me in the carotid artery and I bled out and the animals ate me when the food ran low and I'm actually not writing this from beyond the grave.

Maybe next time.


  1. (snorts with laughter)

    Ah, yes, the old Puncture Your Owner's Carotid Trick! I know it well.

    Just found you via Tall-n-Lucky & wanted to say hello! I live upstate from you.

  2. Rube Goldberg had a rule--only one pet per chain reaction.

  3. Rube Goldberg never met my pets. :)