Tuesday, July 15, 2008

So Many Options for 10 Things

10 Ways to Cook Your Cat (fricasee is my favorite)

10 Protest Messages to Shave Into Your Cat (No Justice. No Beets. is my favorite)

10 Things to Dangle in Front of Your Cat and Snatch Away Before He Can Get It (Most popular: His own tail)

10 Ways To Remove A Cat's Voice Box Using Everyday Items You Have in Your Bedside Table (they're all good)

10 Names to Call Your Cat at 1:19am (Hint: Sweetums isn't on this list)

10 Ways To Kill An Animal With 9 Lives

10 Ways to Fashion a Feline Gag (#6, He already has a tail he's not using for anything productive)

10 Cats I Do Not Want to Disembowel With a Grapefruit Spoon (Don't go looking for Elvis on this list)

10 Uses For Feline Domestic Shorthair Pelts (Snazzy handwarmer for winter, not a bad loofah either)

10 Reasons I Love My Million Dollar Cat (don't check back here for this one any time soon)

So, yeah, the dogs were lovely last night. The cat is an asshole. He is doing the feline equivalent to that old time road trip standard, "Ma! He's lookin' at me! Make him stOOOOOoooop! Right. Now!" It is tiresome. At some point last night when I was sleeping mostly naked (my apartment = temperature of the sun's surface, remember) and there was some relatively serious sabre rattling on Elvis' part I put the cats out and closed the door. So me and two dogs on the bed together managing some sleep, locked away from the bathroom and the water. Cats have the run of the rest of the apartment including their litter box and refreshing cool water with the added bonus that none of us can look at them inappropriately. Oh but no, Elvis spent an hour (an hour) wailing to be let back in to the bedroom so he could put himself somewhere that Bobby could look at him again so he could get all pissed off about it. Couldn't be content to be out of (imaginary) harm's way, had to be in the way of the (entirely imaginary) harm and complaining about it. Who wants a nice fuzzy throw rug for their bed room? Bathmat? Anyone?

Anna, of course, is rather placidly weighing her options. When last I left her she was wavering between actually wanting Bobby to play with her and wanting him to try to play with her so she could teach give him an introductory lesson in psychological warfare. She never needs to claw you, she just likes you to know that she's thinking about it. I'm actually not even kidding about that. It's how she kept Pony Express' Pinto cat in line when he lived with us. She's just slam her paw down an inch from his head and dare him to come closer. She is tiny but she is mighty. She also kind of couldn't give a shit about Bobby being around. Elvis on the other hand...she might have her own 10 Things list.

Everyone was fine when I left and I suspect they will be fine when I return, as indeed they were all last evening right up until bed time. Elvis may be sleeping in his cat carrier tonight, though. Ungrateful bastard.

2 comments:

  1. A truly entertaining and well written post dear.
    I am sorry for your cat pain...
    but you did name him Elvis!
    Its only natural he would expect royal treatment.

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  2. Thanks Gert. I decided to follow the "make the problem your solution" way of life. Last night not only was there no crazy yowling but Elvis decided that he wanted to sleep on the bed with me and Emily and Bobby. In the immortal words of Roy Scheider, "We're gonna need a bigger boat."

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