I love my cats, but they are delusional, selfish, and lazy. Here are five ways they can focus on self-improvement in the new year.
Is there anything worse than working all day, going to the gym, getting home well after dark, taking a shower, and preparing to climb into your fresh, warm bed … only to discover a mushy pile of cat barf that has been sitting atop your comforter all day and fully soaked through every layer of blankets, making it impossible to rest until you’ve dealt with it? It’s gross. It smells. And how the hell do you effectively wash a comforter, anyway?
On par with finding vomit in bed is finding vomit in your shoes — like, INSIDE them, where it sits, crusty and brown, denying your foot entry. This year, my cats really need to knock that off.
When I get home from work, Phoenix greets me at the door and immediately starts shrieking, making sounds far too human to come from her spotted calico lips. If she could speak English, she’d say, “I’M STARVING AND HORRIBLY MISTREATED. PLEASE SAVE ME FROM CERTAIN DEATH.”
But. Um. Here’s the thing: She has a bowl of kibble in the kitchen. She has three bowls of clean water. She has any number of soft, warm places to sleep — the bed, the couch, the box that I left in the living room and filled with blankets just for her. She has roomy windowsills overlooking a nearby park on which to perch. She has toys — so many toys, over which I gladly trip all day in the hopes that she will be entertained while I’m away. She sounds like Tori Spelling whining that her six-figure inheritance isn’t big enough. She needs to get a grip.
I suppose this one isn’t vital, but it will contextualize their summer haircuts.
Yes, that’s right — in an attempt to ameliorate the intensity of shedding season, this summer my cats are getting mohawks. It will be more fun for everyone if they just go ahead and develop an affinity for Flogging Molly right now.
At their last appointment, the vet declared my cats to be healthy with one minor exception: They were both overweight. Phoenix, the fatter of the two, seemed to be growing rounder by the day. Her belly actually swayed back and forth as she walked, like she had a balloon stuffed beneath her skin.
I knew my cats were larger than they should be, but hearing it from the mouth of a pro propelled me into action. This year they’re eating low-calorie cat food, and they’re feverishly chasing the laser pointer my boyfriend got them for Christmas. Here’s hoping they keep trying to catch it.
I’m glad my cats love me so much that they want to be all up in my business at all times, but sometimes they cross lines, and other times they trample all over my boundaries like a pile of clean laundry during shedding season.
One example: I wish Phoenix would stop watching me poop and/or demanding to be held while I poop. Another: I wish Bubba Lee Kinsey would not curl up on top of me at night with his ass pointed directly at my face, so that my nose and mouth are mere inches from unspeakable things.
And with two humans and two cats in bed, it can get crowded, so I wish Bubba and Phoenix would not insist upon lying sideways on the mattress, their bodies spread long and parallel like an adorable, furry equal sign, leaving my boyfriend and me with a sliver of mattress apiece. They need to work on that too. But it’s gonna be a great year — I can feel it.
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