Dammit Cat.

This cat is driving nuts.

Here she is pretending to sleep right before she woke up and flung her body toward my nose.


And here she is doing something else she’s not supposed to be doing.

I’d shoo her away but she just turns on me, ears back ready to attack my hand….wait…oh, yeah, here she is on my desk.

She’s not supposed to be doing this either. I mean I don’t want her wafting her stinky butt all over my paperwork.

Yeah, this cat farts. Like a lot.

Loud, squeaky ones.

I didn’t even know cats could fart.

I mean, I’ve never met an animal like this. She wakes up in the morning on a mission to annoy the hell out me. The first stop? Hiding under my bed while I get dressed so she can attack my feet.

Man that pisses me off.

But it’s not just the feet. I walk into the kitchen and she follows me like a blur, leaping up toward my body in an attempt to dangle from my bellybutton. I know it’s only a matter of time before it’s my ear.

I sit at my computer and she tries to murder my mouse in cold blood.

I fall asleep on the couch and she goes for my eyes.

I open a piece of candy and she snatches it out of my hands like a thief in the night.

I wear a hooded sweatshirt and she tries to strangle me with the strings.

I move and she’s lurking in the corner somewhere waiting to leap.

She terrifies me.

And she steals my socks. She grabs them out of the laundry and attacks them with a hot fury before dragging them off somewhere in the house to murder them and bury their remains. She’s got a taste for cotton, the fabric of our lives, she salivates for wool and has an insatiable hunger for nylon.

And I am left bare-footed.

In addition, I cannot find the string to my robe, which I’ve witnessed this animal harassing hundreds of times. I imagine she’s gone and buried it with the socks, leaving me to walk around all morning exposing parts of my pasty winter flesh to a world not quite ready for things like that.

Oh, it’s not just me who’s fed up. Big Brown Dog and his Big Brown Tail have suffered ninja-like assaults for months without the permission or the heart to fight back.

Even the pug, the world’s only canine cat whisperer, has expressed his frustrations at the surprise and unapproved cat piggyback rides with an eye roll and what I thought sounded a little like a growl.

The only two creatures in this house who seem to be satisfied with this little feline terrorist situation are the damn cat and the damn husband.

Because the damn cat was the damn husband’s idea.

And I think she knows it. I mean, I swear I saw her smirk at me while she was snuggling up next to him on the couch last night, so innocent and fluffy, full of purrs and kitten goodness.

“See,” said my damn husband. “She’s nice.”

But she’s not nice.

She farts.

She claws at my walls.

She climbs on the table.

She bites my favorite dog’s tail and is working really hard to take care of the pug’s only remaining eye.

And if that happens, well, we have a situation.

Oh, and you know what else is weird? The cat’s litter box is by the door. Every time someone enters through that door the wierdo races to her litter box and proceeds to take a shit, a sort of “look what I can do move” while she makes these really weird pushing noises.

I don’t understand? Does she save these shit’s for company? Can she shit on cue?

Seriously. That’s a real thing.

I would videotape it but I already feel awkward enough having just written that sentence.

Am I really talking about cat-shitting here?

Damn you cat! What have I become?

If you need me I’ll be looking for my socks.

18 thoughts on “Dammit Cat.

  1. Jessie, she’s a pretty dang cute cat. She looks wild, too, with those beautiful markings. Just a little tip: the farts might be due to a food allergy. I have a cat that farted so much the air was blue when I walked in the front door after a long day at work. After putting up with Johnny Walker (yes, that’s the name he acquired at the shelter I adopted him from) the gas-bag’s contributions to air quality for too long, I changed his food. After a day or so, presto! no more stinks!

    Good luck! Love your writing!

    Katie

  2. You can’t possibly stay mad at something so cute! A few hours ago my facebook status update was “A cat on a desk is like a bull in a china shop”..my cat was knocking down everything with no regard for the keyboard. I finally figured out that she was being obnoxious because she wanted my chair. oh cats!

  3. I have a cat JUST like that!! I keep telling him to “quit wagging his tail in that tone of voice!” –especially after I tell him “No.” He’ll go over an smack the dog cuz he’s mad at me!

  4. I read this out loud to my boyfriend and showed him the photos while he was running around being attacked up to his shoulder by our biting, leaping bengal kitty. I can relate 🙂 We laughed out asses off at this post.

  5. I am LMAO! I had 4 cats,lost my 12 year old in September : ( & two weeks later a seven year old, also have three big dogs, all in town, waiting to move to our 40 acres. As I was reading it sounded like I was writing it. They each have their own distinct personalities, they act just like kids, oh… and by the way, of the seven animals (all fixed), I only picked the second cat and at the time, I asked myself, is two cats going to be to much? My daughter and husband were the collectors, but he works out of town and she’s living on her own, and adopted another cat, I asked her why can’t you take your cat from here? You can imagine the look on her face….. When I was a little girl I always wanted to be a Mom and a Vet, God gave me my wish… be careful what you wish for…..

  6. My cat, Babs, is similar in appearance and intelligence to yours. It was great to see the pics! A lot of natural curiosity. Obviously, you are viewed as a potential playmate, while your husband is viewed as royalty, a god.
    Same in my household. Maybe the cat needs a playmate to distract it. Babs is a female, and she dotes on our other cat, Tango.
    Just an idea :-).
    I love your writing and your wry humor. I was born and raised in central Montana, and I really enjoy (sigh over) your High Plains photos.
    Thanks for allowing your talent to flow to those of us who, in my case, live in the flattest place in Michigan where George Custer is a hero. 🙂
    Pam

  7. That was very funny. I always tell my cats it’s a good thing they’re cute because they couldn’t get away with half of what they do if they were ugly critters. She’s really cute. I’m sure as she gets older, she’ll settle down some…hopefully…

  8. Love it. When my cat was that age…farts, wildness and all. I ended up needing to play kitty fishing pole games at least twice daily (actually I used a dressage whip, rawhide leader with a frilly kitty toy on the end…only found out later they actually have kitty fishing poles at pet store outlets). The game involved lunging and aerial slashes. He loved it and it saved lots of furniture, feet and curtains.

  9. We had a cat who would time his shitting for our dinner time. What is it with cats & shitting at the worst possible time?

    Our wild kitty eventually turned into a dog whisperer though. He’d sit at the door & would meow when the dogs were ready to come in. He’d get louder & louder if you ignored him. I miss that cat.

  10. Pingback: Next Year. « Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

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