I’m sorry gentleman, this post is not about girl-on-girl action. It’s actually about a fight I’m having with my cat. If you want to go somewhere else now, I won’t take it personally. (That link is Daily Tannenbaum approved, btw, but possibly NSFW, depending on how much of a sense of humor your boss has.)
Before leaving for San Fran, I gave my cat a little flea and tick dip because she loves nothing more than a good romp in my garden, and I love nothing more than NOT having Lyme disease.
When I came back from San Fran, the cat had left scads of hair in every corner of the cottage, as she attempted to remove the offending dipped skin with her powerful hind legs. I wanted to give her some pet’ins to make up for it, but first I had to vacuum every corner of my home. Of course, this further terrorized her, since nothing scares her more than the vacuum. Except visitors. And thunder. And pebbles.
That first night, she was kind of huffy. And she’s been that way ever since, especially since I put down an edict that she’s not allowed to have people food, because it was making her throw up all over the place.
Her people food desires are strange ones. She goes nuts for the rice milk leftover from my cereal. Popcorn intrigues her, but she won’t have more than two pieces. Cottage cheese makes her go freaking nuts. I don’t buy it anymore, but she would kill her own mother to get a piece of vegan cheese. And strangest of all, she used to love waffles. Back when we were kids, my sister could make her run into the kitchen just by opening the freezer and saying, “Micki…. Waffles….” If I want to eat waffles in peace, I have to go into my car.
But since being denied these delicacies, she’s been a real pain in my hiney while I eat breakfast. She jumps on the table, tries to rub her head on the corner of my computer, and pushes her face into my bowl, no matter how many times I gently swat her away. Because I like blueberries, not cat hair on my Kashi, It’s been getting very annoying to say the least. But not annoying enough to make me let her have the food that so obviously messes with her digestive system.
A long time ago, a vet suggested that I get a squirt bottle and squirt her with water whenever she exhibits bad behavior. The theory is that cats can’t be disciplined by humans, but if they get attacked by an outside force, they consider it “the voice of God.” And while I’m a proud atheist, I’m willing to accept my cat’s kooky beliefs if it gets her off the table while I’m eating breakfast. So I finally bought a squirt bottle yesterday, and put it at the ready next to the computer.
As soon as she heard the spoon on the bowl, she was on the table. Squirt! She jumped off that table so fast, she also knocked off my purse and a stack of bills. To show her no hard feelings from me, it’s just that squirt-bottle God acting up again, I gave her some pet’ins under the table. But a minute later, she was back. Squirt! More papers on the floor, cat gone. But this time, she never came back. I finished my breakfast in peace, got dressed, make-uped, and she was still gone. But then I was lonely, so I went looking for her to make sure she was alright.
I found her cowering under the bed. Obviously she wasn’t in my Sunday School class where we learned that “There Is No Spot Where God Is Not.” But Squirt Bottle God doesn’t punish kittens for being under beds. I tried to explain that, but I got a nasty look.
I guess the bottom line is that Micki does not believe in Squirt Bottle God, and figured out that it was really me who was torturing her. She spent the rest of the morning avoiding me, running away whenever I came close. It does make me sad that my buddy and I are in a fight, but looking on the bright side of things, I have joy in my heart to know that my favorite feline companion is also an atheist.
