Things I wish I could explain to my cat.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
41

In continuing Punha’s bitching about our cats…

Dear Mischief,

Yes it is insanely cute when we see you prancing around the living room carrying a straw in your mouth. I realize they do indeed make great kitty toys but does that mean that you must take every single straw in the house? Before you came along a box of straws would last for months and now every time I turn my back for a second you come up and steal my straw. You theiving cat! I’ll let you have the other 15,000 straws you’ve stolen so far, just please leave the rest alone!

That goes for the bottle caps too. Stop it. I like reusing water bottles. It’s handy to have cold water whenever I want it. I like drinking it out of a bottle so I don’t have to worry about you stealing my straw. However the bottles become of no use to me once you’ve taken their caps and cleverly hidden them in my shoes!

You know I love you. That’s why I randomly go around pick you up and attempt to squeeze you in two and talk kitten talk to you. I enjoy cuddling with you. You’re warm and furry and friendly. However when I go to bed at night I do not want you sleeping on my head and purring as loudly as you possibly can. While you might sleepy wonderfully that way it is not so condusive to my sleeping habits. Be nice like Frodo and sleep at my feet. They don’t hear nearly as well as my ears do.

P.S. thank you for not running out the door every time it is open for more than a fraction of a second. That makes you the favorite.

Love,
B

42

My dearest, precious kitties:

Rocky-

While I cannot promise that I will never die, the odds are in your favor that I will not die rightnow. Therefore, hovering over me and checking that I’m breathing every two minutes during the night is unneccessary. It also makes Mommy very cranky. Sleep like a normal cat.

Please do not place your favorite chewed up plastic thingies in the tips of Mommy’s shoes. When Mommy puts her shoes on in the morning to go to work and feels something touch her toes, it does not signal playtime. It means that Mommy has almost had a full-blown heart attack thinking that something big and mean and hairy has just bitten her toe. And that weird dance I do while checking that the big, mean, hairy thing is merely a chewed up plastic thingie – that does not mean get up under Mommy’s feet. Either I will break my neck or I will smush you. Not good choices.

Also, please refrain from hacking up hairballs right outside my bedroom door. I know you don’t feel well and that hairball wasn’t agreeing with your tummy, but could you please move your hairball-hacking-up routine to the linoleum?

Koshika-

When Rocky is being normal and sleeping, please try to control your urge to clean him. He is a big kitty and knows how to take a bath by himself. If you wake him up, he will beat you up and proceed to drive us both batty until he goes to sleep again. Just cut to the chase and quit licking him. He doesn’t like it.

Please stop knocking things off the kitchen cabinets. I know that you want to be Queen Kitty of the household, but throwing Mommy’s baskets and trinkets from the top of the cabinets really irks me. And while I’m at it, how does an itty-bitty thing like you get on top of the darn cabinets to begin with? The ceiling is nine feet high – you are less than a foot high. Are you spring-loaded?

You are not starving, I promise you. You have a bowl full of yummy kitty chow. Eat that. Me adding two new pieces of kitty chow to your bowl will not make it more appealing.

Regardless of both of your idiosyncracies, I love you both dearly and wouldn’t trade you for the world.

~Your Mommy
Belle :slight_smile:

43

Dear Haiku,

When you feel that you are about to puke, please head for the linoleum instead of the carpet.

Thank you.

44

General Relativity :smiley:

45

Y’know, it’s always a nice thing to see the idea that “damn near every cat exhibits signs of brain damage” reinforced. Makes it feel a bit less like we’re sharing our house with a bunch of fuzzy creatures from another plane of reality.

Plus, I always get a good chuckle outta these threads, so thanks y’all. :smiley:

On to the particulars:
Ashley, my dear, crotchety old Siamese, let’s talk a minute. Roughly 75% of the floor in this house is linoleum, tile, or some other non-absorbing, easy to clean surface. So why is it you manage to hit carpet every single time you have a hairball? This has been going on for about fifteen years now, so I understand the odds of a change in this pattern are only slightly better than the odds of me discovering spontaneous cold fusion in my coffee cup, but still, gimme a break one time, wouldja please? That shit is nasty to clean up, and stains the carpet.

Oswald, the beat up Tuxedo. First, I didn’t name you, so don’t blame me. Second, I see from this thread that your particular dementia is fairly common. Stop bolting for the door at relativistic speeds, every time someone comes in or goes out, yeah? You were declawed before I ever set eyes on you, you’re lazy, and judging by the way you routinely walk into kitchen cabinets and the living room furniture, either uncoordinated, or outright dim. You’d survive all of about ten minutes in the outside world. So just stay in the house, eat the pre-killed food outta the dish, and shut the hell up at three and four in the morning, huh?

Simon, you know I love ya buddy, but if you poke one more hole in the waterbed, forcing me to make repairs and then change the damp sheets at eleven PM or midnight, I’m gonna staple mittens to your feet, man. This is getting old. Besides, with the mattress pad and the sheets and whatnot, it’s not like it happens all that often by accident. It’s a waterbed. It’s heated. This is like friggin’ cat Nirvana. Why you feel the need to buck the status quo is beyond me.

And finally, Jules, let’s get this straight. When you insist on weaving a figure eight between my feet as I walk through the house, you’re gonna get your tail stepped on. I’m just not quite as graceful as you cats are allegedly supposed to be. Walk next to me, in front of me, or behind me. All of those behaviors are far less likely to result in you getting kicked or stepped on, with the added bonus of me not tripping and falling on my face. This is not that hard to understand, and you’re the only feline in this house who exhibits any signs of real intelligence, so why are you having such a problem grasping this concept?

46

Perhaps I didn’t convey blustering enough in that point;) “I, ah, er, that is … I don’t know where you got the idea that I ever like anyone sitting on my face naked…”

This concludes today’s foré into iampunha TMI.

47

To my sweet fuzzy black land shark, Tybalt:

We love you. You must know we love you, by how diligently we cleaned that demonically foul diarrhea out of and off the hair on your hindquarters for those few days. Remember how I went into the bathroom and vomited? That was love.

We don’t impose many rules on your life. We don’t restrict your world in any appreciable way. So please, listen carefully, to the one and only one requirement we have.

Light is on? We will let you in. Light is off? We are sleeping and we will not let you in no matter how much you scratch and howl at our door. Use the cat door. That’s why it’s there.

Oh, and please don’t invite your little friends to come in with you, either.

With oodles of chin scritches–
Cervaise

Sputnik is a very cool name for a cat.

48

Wow… there are a lot of cat ladies here…

49

Never underestimate cat ladies, cowboy. We are not to be trifled with, and are the sexiest women out there. Right, girls??

To my 3 cats: please do not treat my delicate lingerie/slippers with fake feathers on them as kitty play-toys. You have no idea how much they cost!

>vacumning up purple fluffy stuff as we speak<

50

Piper Grace-you, dearest darling, are FAT. You do NOT need to eat again. You WADDLE when you walk, and you look like a Buddha. We are trying to get you to trim down-so do NOT go and steal food from your sisters. We’re not stupid.

Oh, and you have four tennis balls inside your kitty kondo. WHY do you have to drag all four out to play with? Why can’t you play with only one at a time?

Buffy-I love you, sweetie, you are my little orange darling, my baby. But I cannot play with you all the time. If I am watching the dog, I cannot come in and get your toy wand and wave it around for you. I know you love to play with it, but Mommy is busy.

And for the both of you-STOP TEARING THE WALLPAPER OFF OF THE WALLS!!!

Gypsy-quit being so grouchy all the time. Stop yowling when we pick you up.

Misty-stop sticking your head in the shower. You WILL get wet.

Noel-please, for the love of god, let people sleep at night! Don’t run in mom and dad’s room and knock stuff off of their dresser and cry. It’s not funny.

51

Miss Kitty, I understand that presenting your butt to me is your way of showing that you like me. I appreciate the thought but wish you could come up with some other way. Oh, and knocking over the plants really ticks off your mom. I’d give that a rest. And I wanted you to know that you are my favorite of them all.

Purr Dragon, I want you to know that you’re doing a fine job being Uncle Cat to the kids. I realize you enjoyed being the junior cat but we all have to grow up. I’d recommend when you’re begging daddy gus for food you keep the claws sheathed. His leg is looking pretty bad. And I wanted you to know that you are my favorite of them all.

Master Mouth, you did a great job killing your first sparrow. I’m sure it’ll be the first of many IF you manage to remember to not wag your tail as you’re stalking your prey. Of course, if you keep running out of the door without permission and then hiding under the bulldozer so your mother can’t get you to bring you back in, well, it’ll be a long time before you see another bird without a screen or glass keeping you from it. And stop fighting with your sister. And I want you to know that you’re my favorite.

Missy Face, don’t be such a drama queen. You don’t need to scream bloody murder when I look at you or pet you. It’s not hurting you and you’re not fooling anyone. And if you bring me the toy mice, I’ll be happy to throw it for you, after all, you’re my favorite of all of you.

52

Ha! Does Ranger know the kids, or what?

:wink:

53

Dear Dusty,

You’ve been gone…about 5 months and I still miss you.
I know you drove my parents crazy, but you were a better cat with me. You liked to be around me, not on me always. You’d sit and look at me until I finished eating. Maybe I trained you well - you knew you’d get that last bit of yogurt if you were quiet. You were also good to nap with. You’d snuggle up and sleep as long, if not longer, then I did.
Your breath smelled funny because of the food we gave you, but I loved you anyway. You were always so glad to see me when I’d come home. Trying to get in my luggage so you could come with me. I realize you just liked getting into things, but I’m romanticising the past here - don’t look at me like that!
You were a very “doggie” cat. You played fetch and came when I called you. And you were always willing to let me cry on you - you had the best purr.
I’m sorry you were sick. I’m sorry my parents didn’t tell me so that I could be there. I know you liked my parents and all, but you loved me, and I wasn’t there for you. Guh, sadness.
New cat - Joseph/Nobert
I’m glad you grew out of the biting phase. What is it about my down comforter that you love so much? Does it really have a smell? Decide whether or not you want attention. Yowling when we pet you, then rubbing on us is confusing.
Your little non-meow is cute, it’s quiet. I’m worried about you developing this big cat kind of voice though. Finish growing up so I don’t have to worry!
What’s with liking to get under my sheets? I know you’re there. You know I know you’re there - it’s not like you’re hiding from me. Do you like the warmth? The illusion of hiding?
Lastly, when you lie in the sun you get all warm and snuggly. Thanks for letting me pet you.

54

addendum:

Ok, you didn’t drive my parents crazy. My mom just wasn’t a lap-cat person and my dad just liked the complain. They loved you. My dad liked to play rough and toss you onto things and you were cool with that. You were so hungry for love. You were a big kitty (almost pixie-bobish ) All other cats seem so small now.

55

To my dear, darling kitty Oedipus Rex:

You are sweet and adorable and cute as a button, but there would be so much less aggravation in our lives if you would just learn a few simple lessons.

  1. If you’re going to stick your butt in my face, please clean the poop off of it first.

  2. I know that when you’re feeling especially lovey-dovey, you like to make biscuits on me. But please, please, don’t do it on my throat. Mommy can’t breathe when you mash her windpipe.

  3. Throw pillows are not–I repeat, NOT–the natural enemies of cats. Please stop shredding them.

  4. When you hide your front half under the couch and leave your rear end sticking out, I can still see you.

  5. I love it when we snuggle in bed. But don’t throw yourself across my neck as if you were a fur stole. Your big furry Meow Mix belly covers my nose and mouth when you do this. Mommy can’t breathe when you do this.

  6. When I yell at you for sharpening your claws on the chair, don’t run around to the back of the chair and go back about your business. I can still hear you scratching, even if I can’t see you.

  7. Please don’t sit in your litter box and yelp and cry when you have diarrhea. There is nothing I can do about it.

  8. Those flowers and house plants really don’t taste good.

  9. The toilet bowl is not your own personal swimming pool.

  10. If you don’t stop performing forcible analingus on your little sister, we are going to have to put you on the local sex offender registry. I know this sounds drastic, but it’s become a real problem because:

a. C.C. (the aforementioned sister) doesn’t like it. Really, she doesn’t. She obviously wants you to get her consent first.

b. You are neglecting your own anal hygiene. Yikes! Nobody likes a kitty who smells like Eau de Poo-Poo. Try licking your own butt instead.

c. You perform these assaults in the middle of the living room floor while Mommy’s trying to watch her shows, and it’s distracting.

  1. I hate to break your heart, but you need to accept that I am never going to be your girlfriend, no matter how hard you try. You’re a cat. A castrated cat. With Meow Mix breath.

  2. And, speaking of sexual assaults, Mommy does not appreciate waking up at 3 a.m. to find a fuzzy-faced little pervert with hot stinky breath trying to force his rough little tongue into her mouth. I don’t know where you learned to French kiss, but your technique leaves a lot to be desired.

  3. I just think you should know that your wicked ways are earning you a bad rep. The rest of the family is already calling you “Sexy Rexy, the Serial Rapist.”

It’s sad, but I can’t think of even one thing that my other cat, C.C., would need to learn. She’s just a sweet little angel. As I type this, she’s sleeping on top of the TV set. Meanwhile, Sexy Rexy is ripping apart a dried flower arrangement.

Sigh. He may be a pervert, but he’s my cude widdow fuzzy-wuzzy pewvewht. Aww.

56

cat ladies?

To my nephew-cat: Stop eating the nipples of the baby’s bottle. The kid is hungry and you puke strange thingies on the carpet.

Thanks all. You should write a book. ::wiping tears from eyes::

57

Tyr,

  1. There is nothing on the roof. Nothing. Yet you climb up there, wail for help, and I have to get the step ladder and get you down. The next time, I’m leaving you up there to rot.

  2. The cat in the oven door? That’s you. There’s no need to get all puffed up.

  3. You’re not a kitten anymore. You can’t have the kitten food. You’re getting fat as it is.

  4. Repeat after me: I’m not a sheep. We can’t have kitty grass in the house because you mow it to the nub in ten minutes.

58

Tigger:

I must congratulate you on your hunting prowess. For a cat raised as a house kitten, your knack for taking out full-grown grackles and crows is nothing short of amazing.

And while I do appreciate your fondness for me and your mistress, it pains me to tell you that leaving dead birds on the little rugs beside our bed is NOT really something a human enjoys. I mean, it’s enough to make us want to nail the cat door shut, you know? Eat it yourself, and enjoy.

And if you ARE going to eat it yourself, kindly do so out in the yard somewhere, hm? We know you’re a bad-ass hunter kitty, and you really don’t need to arrange the head, wings, and uneaten bird guts in a little tableaux on the back porch that demonstrates that you know the exact arrangement they went in before you ate their owner.

You know I love you, Tigger, but if I step outside on one more Sunday morning, only to step in a pile of cold wet bird guts, I’m going to have to do something about it. Precisely WHAT, I don’t know, but SOMETHING…

59

I have not had a cat in far too long, but the tradeoff has been worth it. SWMBO is allergic to cats, so I have voluntarily deprived myself to have the pleasure of her company.

However, in my pre-SWMBO days, I had cats. I had one in particular, who has long since gone to the Giant Litter Box In The Sky, that I dearly loved and who dearly loved me. The bestest kitty I have ever shared space with, who had only one minor problem, which I would like to belatedly address:

Gimlet - I love the fact that you like to burrow under the covers and keep my feet warm without gnawing on my toes. That is really nice. What I don’t love is the fact that when you get comfortable, you heave a big sigh and cut the most humongous catfarts I have ever heard. Or smelled. They ooze their way out from under the covers and I swear something has crawled up inside you and died. That, I can live without. I’m buying a cork if you don’t quit.

60

Skippy,
Please do not stand in front of the monitor!
It is very pfvjop[9a\ phohp oewg’;md[p3087 0934-mk4 ^#