Last week, my cat, Mimosa, endured the sudden hardship of being thrust into a single-parent lifestyle.
Usually, Mims enjoys a happy two-parent ownership deal, with my girlfriend feeding her in the morning and me keeping her company during the day. But last week the secondary lady of the house had to fly overseas to a land where iguanas apparently roam as freely as feral cats. So Mims was stuck with me.
Here’s the changes to her daily routine and the harrowing degrees of suffering that ensued when Mims found herself forced to abide by my regime.
When normalcy reigns, Mims receives her breakfast bowl of premium-quality dried food at the precise hour of 7 a.m. This, apparently, is when people who have to leave the apartment to go to work get out of bed. I’ve heard that sometimes the sun has not yet arisen. Scary.
Me being one of those people for whom sweatpants are formal home office attire, Mims was shocked to realize her fancy cat bowl would not be refilled until at least 9 a.m. It’s an unacceptable situation she attempted to remedy by sitting on my arm in a manner designed to cut off the blood supply at the unnatural hour of six in the morning. But I stayed strong and won that little battle of wills.
I am a dedicated member of the anti-clutter brigade — so that means no errant shoes and boots should be left randomly around the apartment. Mims, of course, is a fan of such chaos, viewing female footwear as colorful additions to her indoor playground.
This last week, though, she’s been shocked to discover an apartment full of wide open spaces — a serene vista — rather than one with numerous pairs of boots scattered around. She has reacted by pouting.
Every evening, Mims gets her wet food treat. Apparently, this food must be sufficiently whisked so that it becomes creamy and desirable for her to eat.
The first time I fed her this week without whisking, she did not touch the food. The next day I humbled myself and duly whisked the cat’s food.
My previous cats have never really gone in for the grooming scene, but Mims is quite the spa-hound. She knows where the purple pet brush is kept and, after her evening’s wet food has been served, pretty much expects to be groomed. She signifies this by sitting on her cardboard throne.
Apparently, though, I do not know how to groom her — at least not in what has come to be known as a professional manner. So she kept getting up and walking off once I had commenced the brushing. I’m surprised she didn’t keep walking right out of the front door.
Cats lead an undoubtedly charmed life and do not understand the value of hard work. Here is Mims doing her best to annoy me while I am trying to write about a very rotund rapper with a penchant for champagne.
So as part of Mims’s week under my sole guardianship I decided to teach her a valuable skill. Namely, I trained her to jump from one cardboard box into another and back again. (Treats were involved.) Following this successful accomplishment, I like to think she has become a more well-rounded feline — although I’m sure she’s secretly counting the minutes until the whisked wet food and professional grooming regime is reinstated.
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About Phillip Mlynar: The self-appointed world’s foremost expert on rappers’ cats. When not penning posts on rap music, he can be found building DIY cat towers for his adopted domestic shorthair, Mimosa, and collecting Le Creuset cookware (in red). He has also invented cat sushi, but it’s not quite what you think it is.
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