Tag Archives: cat

My cat hates me. Allegedly.

14 Dec

Image Source: Icanhascheezburger.com

My sister shared this article with me that claims it’s been scientifically proven that cats don’t love us.

(For the record, the subject line of Alicia’s email was, “Lies, Lies! All Lies!”)

As I write that, Miss Moneypenny is sitting on my lap, staring up at me with an adoring look. Thanks to that study, I now know to interpret that look as, “This is a nice, soft, warm surface.” And when she greets me at the end of the work day by flopping on the rug and making excited air muffins, I now know it’s simply in anticipation of the meal that will follow.

Thanks, Science, for bursting my bubble.

Now that I realize my cat is a manipulative little liar, I probably won’t ever get another one. And that’s too bad, because I had some really good names picked out for my next cats. Since it looks like they’ll go to waste, I’ll put them out here for any suckers who decide to bring another feline into their home:

  1. Pussy Galore. This was Alan’s original suggestion for Miss MP’s name, but she wasn’t big enough to pull it off.
  2. Furry Lise. Preferably if you own a piano for the inevitable Fur Elise/Furry Lise confusion that will ensue.
  3. Octopussy. Ideally for a cat hoarder’s eighth cat.
  4. Dutchess Furgie. Only if the cat lets other cats clean its toes. Or becomes a spokes-cat for Science Diet.
  5. Mr. Meowgi. For a cat who can catch flies with its paws, or is willing to wax on/off the floor.
  6. Furdinand. For a huge, friendly bull of a tomcat.
  7. Mewly Andrews. This is one of my nicknames for Miss MP because she is talkative; the other variation is Drooly Andrews, because she slobbers when she’s overly excited. Either could work as a stand-alone name.
  8. The Best Cat-Owner Ever. This is Alan’s suggestion. He thinks it’s a good way to reinforce your own awesomeness while talking to the cat. As in: “Does the Best Cat-Owner Ever deserve a treat?” Or taking it to the vet, when they call, “We’re now ready for The Best Cat-Owner Ever.” Think of the envious looks you’ll receive.
  9. Ms. Everdeen. For people who read The Hunger Games and know that the main character’s name is Katniss Everdeen.
  10. ???     Your call! What ridiculous names are you willing to give up since you now have confirmation that cats are secretly plotting an uprising?
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I thought people were supposed to LOOK like their pets.

8 Sep

Image Source: http://www.hilarioustime.com/images/04/Well-butter-my-butt-funny-cat-with-bread-on-its-head.jpg

Let’s start with a list:

  1. Gratitude.
  2. Condolences.
  3. Feelings.
  4. Shipments.

That’s pretty much the exhaustive list of things I believe should be expressed.

However, now that I’m the proud owner of a cat rescued from Methatopia, West Virginia, I’ve learned there’s something else that requires expressing: Anal Glands.

That’s right. I didn’t even know that was a THING.

Image Source: http://funnyfilez.funnypart.com/pictures/FunnyPart-com-r2d2_cat_home.jpgUntil one night when I was kicked back in my chair, reading, and Miss Moneypenny emerged from her litterbox. She strode confidently over to me, then sat down and proceeded to pull herself around on the floor using only her front legs, moving in an oddly fluid way, as if she were channeling the ghost of R2D2.

Obviously I had to burn and replace the carpet. But before doing so, I googled, “Cat Dragging Butt.” And because Google knows me, instead of pulling up helpful medical references, the first results displayed animated gifs. Which, admittedly, slayed me. But did nothing to help me diagnose Miss Moneypenny’s malady.

My next query was more fruitful, and was confirmed by my sister, who ALSO just adopted a vocal cat with butt issues. Apparently we’re scat magnets. “Sounds like her anal glands need expressing,” Alicia wrote. She then sent me a how-to video. I gagged and called the vet.

When I arrived at the vet, it was after working hours, so the waiting room was full. I approached the receptionist and tried to be discreet. “I’m hoping there’s a vet tech who can look at my cat,” I said.

Before I could get any further, she said, “What’s her name? Your cat?”

Me: Miss Moneypenny.

Receptionist, loudly: Oh yeah – she’s the one who needs her ANAL GLANDS EXPRESSED, right?

Me, softly: I’m not sure. She’s just started scooting around on the floor a bit.

Receptionist, loudly: It sounds like her ANAL GLANDS. Let me see if I can get a Vet Tech out here to EXPRESS HER ANAL GLANDS.

Me: Um, thanks.

I took a seat, sheltering Miss Moneypenny from the prying eyes of other patients who all seemed to be there for non-embarrassing routine procedures, like teeth cleanings and rabies vaccinations.

A vet tech appeared shortly, and asked a few more questions. The unwitting audience of other pet owners started making the sign of the cross on their chests, praying that they never had to bring their animals in for ANAL GLAND EXPRESSION.

Meanwhile, Miss Moneypenny cowered in her vented duffel bag carrier, growling. I could hardly blame her, especially when the vet tech grabbed the duffel and said to me, “You wait here. She’s going to be very mad at us. Better that you’re not in there…”

The rest of the appointment was uneventful – for me. I don’t even want to know what happened in the back. From the howls, I think it’s safe to surmise that Miss Moneypenny was not a model patient.

Later that night, I chatted my sister.

Me: Good job with the long-distance diagnosis of my cat’s butt.

Alicia: Was it her glands?

Me: Yes. They said it’s common in dogs, but pretty rare in cats. It’s weird that we BOTH just adopted cats with this issue.

Alicia: Hmmmm…

Me: Unless this is cats’ version of a gluten allergy? Maybe it’s suddenly trendy?

Alicia: I guess we’re just early adopters.

Me: We should get out ahead of this wave and write a cookbook. PAYDAY!

Image Source: http://payload.cargocollective.com/1/3/125736/2175893/THE%20CAT%20COOK%20BOOK-1.jpgCOMING SOON: You’ll be able to purchase our Cookbook for Kitties, called, “EXPRESS YOURSELF: Healthy Meals for Happy Cats.” 

<–Not to be confused with THIS book, which seems to advocate COOKING cats. I guess we’re not the only trend-setters.

I failed cat-anatomy.

19 Aug

Image Source:  pithypants 2013

Look at this photo. Doesn’t Miss Moneypenny look like an octopus who lost three legs?

SHE TOTALLY DOES. 

If I had better Photoshop skills (or my sister on speed-dial) you would be looking at before  and after photos from the tragic accident that severed Miss Moneypenny’s other three legs.

Except you’d know that cats don’t really have eight legs.  While I do have a tragic story I could tell about smashing her in a window this week and thinking I’d accidentally maimed her, I’d rather focus on her other anatomical mystery.

Shortly after getting her, I was petting her and felt a weird bump on her stomach. I separated the skin and looked at it. It looked like a skin tag. “Alan,” I shouted. “Does this look like a nipple?”

Alan checked it out and rubbed around on her belly. “I don’t think so. It’s more like a wart or something.”

I agreed.

Fast forward a week to when I’m at the vet, having Miss Moneypenny’s West Virginian meth-addict smile inspected. “Listen, Doctor Storm,” I started, struggling to determine which was more ridiculous – calling a guy in his late 20s “doctor” or the fact that his last name made him sound like he came from a Spiderman movie. “While we’re here, can you look at Miss Moneypenny’s tummy? I think she has a skin tag or something there.”

He obliged, and asked me to show him what I was talking about. I felt around blindly until (finally!) my fingers located the little dot of braille. “Here it is!” I practically yelled, feeling triumphant.

He rolled her over and looked at it. Then looked at me. “That’s a nipple,” he said.

I was flustered. “Well, at first I thought it was a nipple, but then I couldn’t find any others, so I wasn’t sure WHAT it was. I mean – can you find any other nipples?”

He looked at me like I was an idiot, then proceeded to map out all of my cat’s nipples for me. At a certain point, I said, “Got it. I don’t need to see any more nipples, thanks.”

And that was the end of our first vet visit.

I’m going to take a vote: Is it more awkward to have a x-ray tech your own age administer a surprise enema, or have a doctor who is at least a decade your junior educate you on nipples?

Either way, I’m going to stay away from medical professionals for a while.

Meow.

This post is as random as my cat’s stomach.

12 Aug

Image Source: http://weknowmemes.com/2013/02/let-me-tell-you-a-story/I went to Boston last week for work. I usually travel a lot, but haven’t been on the road since I got Miss Moneypenny. Normally, Alan would stay with her and make sure all was well, but he got called to NYC himself last week, so I scrambled to find a sitter. I even went so far as to contact a professional pet sitting place to see if someone could stop in… but then my friend Alison hopped to the rescue.

We were at dinner a few days before my trip and I mentioned that I needed a sitter. “I’ll do it,” she offered.

“No,” I said, “It’s for multiple days…”

“That’s fine,” she said. I wish I were that laid back. She hadn’t even MET Miss Moneypenny when she volunteered to cat-sit.

Her friend Shawn piped up, “Careful! Ask her what happened when she cat-sat for me!”

I looked at Alison expectantly. “It wasn’t my fault,” she said. “How was I supposed to realize the cat and dog had separate bowls?” Turns out, she’d emptied the cat’s bowl into the dog’s bowl and only fed the dog for the week. In her defense: it’s not like there wasn’t food around. If the cat got hungry enough, she could’ve snacked from the dog’s bowl.

Fast forward three days from hearing this story… There we were with fresh sheets on my bed so Alison could house/cat-sit and play with Miss Moneypenny until Alan returned from New York.

The report cards (which arrived by text) were positive regarding Miss Moneypenny. (“She’s so sweet!”) But not so positive when it came to my upstairs neighbor. (“Dude. Is your neighbor a GIANT? Does he LEAP instead of WALK?”)

Oh crap. Forgot to caution her to bring sleeping pills to cancel out McStomperson.

NOT my cat. But note the tummy.

NOT my cat. But note the saggy tummy.

Alan arrived back from NYC in time to relieve Alison for the last day. He called me with an odd question. “Have you ever noticed, when you’re behind or above Miss Moneypenny, and she runs somewhere in a hurry – like to her food bowl…”

I knew exactly where he was going with this, so I cut him off. “Yes! You’ve seen her fupa!”

Alan started laughing. “EXACTLY. What is going on there? Her stomach swings like a gate from side to side when she runs!”

(If you don’t know what a fupa is, it stands for “fat upper pubic area” and is generally used to describe loose fat that hangs down into a person’s pants somewhere between their stomach and their crotch. As it turns out, cats can have them too, even though they don’t wear pants.)

Time-out: My sister just informed me that “fupa” is not a technical term. Apparently I shouldn’t treat UrbanDictionary as a legitimate reference source. Alicia says the actual term I’m looking for is “pannus.” (See? This blog is educational. Which means classy. You’re welcome.)

Anyway. The moral of the story is: Miss Moneypenny  survived the week without me. And you have to love a cat whose stomach waves in greeting… almost as much as I love this photo:

This has NOTHING to do with this post, but absolutely slayed me.

This has NOTHING to do with this post, but absolutely slayed me.

Introducing… Miss Moneypenny!

2 Jul

I got a cat.

I know what you’re thinking: Aren’t you ALLERGIC to cats? Didn’t you give BACK a kitten once? How will a cat work with your OCD tendencies?

Or maybe you’re not thinking that at all – maybe I’m projecting?

To answer your (my) questions:

  1. Yes. I am allergic to cats. But my intestines are apparently allergic to food and I haven’t stopped eating. At least I can pet a cat. And a cat will never cause me to shit my pants or need surgery. So overall, I think the cat wins this one. Did I mention I can PET it?
  2. Yes. Factually, speaking, I did once give back a kitten. But in my defense: my co-worker had found a litter in her garage and pawned them off on people for “trials” hoping we’d get attached. And the particular kitten that I got was something of an asshole. So of course I gave him back.
  3. Way ahead of you on this one. I’ve set up a lidded litter box with a swinging door, and it’s perched on a litter mat that grabs loose litter of my cat’s paws. Also? I deliberately chose a cat that matched my couches and rug so that fur would blend in. (That is: any fur that I miss during my twice-daily wipe downs.)

So now that we’ve resolved your (my) initial concerns, let me introduce…

Miss Moneypenny  © 2013 pithypants

OK, I’ll admit, her given name is “Squeaky.” And as Alan has pointed out, it’s probably ridiculous to try to rename an animal something that involves five syllables. But I think we all agree that “Squeaky” requires updating for obvious reasons. So why not go with a James Bond character?

Alan actually first suggested (to one of my co-workers, nonetheless) that we were naming her Pussy Galore. I’m sure I don’t have to explain why Miss Moneypenny seems a tad more fitting, but in case you’re slow on the up-take: because I’ve always wanted a secretary.

Duh.

One step closer to becoming a crazy cat lady. Wait for it.