Swimmin Frog

Monday, October 16, 2006
Cat barf and spinsters
I spent this evening cleaning up orange piles of cat barf. Why do they insist on marking every surface of my cream colored carpet with the discarded contents of their intestines? I complain a lot about the barf, the litter box, the constant, "get down from there" and the fact that their attention is only given on their terms… but, I have grown accustomed to having the little furballs around. I love the way they wake me up every morning by laying directly on my bladder. Then they wait patiently by the bathroom door listening for the toilet flush – a signal that they will soon be fed. I like the way they lay on their back like dead raccoons. And I especially love they way they claim ownership of the back of chairs and couches moaning with disdain when you disturb them.

I used to hate cats! When did this apparent love affair begin? Well, it began with my fat, tailless feline 7 years ago. Having been a devout dog lover for most of my life, I never thought I would lower my standards to befriend a cat of all things. But, I moved away from home leaving my dog with my mom because the warden of my new dwelling wouldn't allow him to live with me. Cats were acceptable. Fast forward to a tiny black and white cotton ball with a tail like a bunny and a personality like a puppy. I loved her instantly even when she pooped on the couch… even when she turned out to be a he (it was a hidden testicle, we don't discuss it around him). I named him Staticulous William Minelli Presly. Now, I am not one of those creepy cat ladies…yet… but, I do like to talk about him…just ask.

My sister and I are roommates and she has her own little hairball expelling friend. We have doubled all the aforementioned activities… the barf clean up etc. Her cat is a little more feline than mine, but when she wants to can be annoyingly lovable. The cats are actually best friends and are making me worried that my sister and I may never live apart… you know for the sake of the kids…er cats. Visions of lap afghans, two rocking chairs, fights over the remote, pictures of our cats all over the walls and memories of what could have been are running through my head…. eeek

So, now my entry has turned to spinsterville, I think it is time to call it quits. It's time to head to bed where I will sleep off to the side so that my fat feline can claim his spot, snore, and make the little noises that make me feel safe and loved. For now I am just a gal in her thirties that happens to have an awesome pet.