Literally Leah

sharing is caring, so I obviously care a lot.

Diary of a cat owner… November 11, 2011

Filed under: Cat — The Under-Analyst @ 11:03 am
Tags: , , , , , , ,

We have a cat!
MEOOWWW.  I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since our second date. I like to believe this cat is the Elmers we didn’t know we needed, like the glue stick the kid puts up his nose.   We rescued our furry bundle of joy this past Sunday after extensive cat shopping. While browsing the various rescued selections, I focused on my cat whispering talents as BF made comments like, “I don’t know about that one, he doesn’t really go with our couch.”  I was dead set on a cross-eyed 3 year old named Charlie who wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.  But we finally gave in to a small tabby with the unfitting name Brian.   My mom was in town visiting while the adoption took place and I suddenly felt very maternal, as if I had birthed this cat myself. The little guy had been a stray and was a young 7 months.  Were we ready to start a family?  YES! In fact if I had it my way we’d be the modern day Partridge family even though it’d be hard to teach all of our cats to play instruments.

Our nameless cat spent the first day of its new life under the couch.  Day two he ventured out and actually cuddled up with us and explored the new terrain.  Day three we gave him a name (I greatly appreciate all of the suggestions, including my friend M who said, “Why don’t you name him Gunther?  Aren’t you like obsessed with that name?”  Ummm yeah
because I HAVE a cat named Gunther already back in Minnesota)   So after admiring the cat’s agility and intelligence we quickly concluded that he was Gilligan Marbles Marie.

Gilligan Marie is truly a sweet, loving, amazing cat. Even the BF loves him!  He has proven himself to be quite articulate and has full on meowing conversations with us.  His favorite toys thus far consist of a mouse tied to a string and our curtains.  He loves his Fancy Feast and tolerates his dry kitty food.  The cat eats more than all of the Biggest Loser contestants combined. Likewise his litter box is almost always at capacity.

This morning my kitty honeymoon came to an abrupt end. He woke us up at 5:45 meowing and sweetly shoving his wet nose into my face.  I got up and tried not to trip over him as we walked to the kitchen.  I picked up his bowl and turned on the hot filtered water to rinse it out.  When I went to turn it off, it kept spurting out water.  The thing would NOT shut off!  Bf had to shut the water off under the sink.  I fed Gilligan Marbles and took my coffee back into the bedroom.  Shortly thereafter the cat joined us on our bed.  He sat by our feet for a minute then shook himself, getting us wet with sprinkled water.  I looked at him and his foot was drenched.

“Hah, honey… Gilligan is so stupid he stepped in his own water bowl.”  We both laughed as BF petted our orange beauty.  And that’s when I looked past our sweet, adorable cat and saw the giant pool of piss that was at the foot of our bed!  BAD KITTYYYY.  We ripped off our sheets, but it was clearly too late to reprimand him.  We had basically rewarded him for peeing on our bed with pets and nice voices.  CRAP.  I didn’t want our cat to be walking around with pissfeet so I picked him up and walked to the bathroom where I dumbly turned on the faucet so I could get my hands wet to then wipe his paws.  The moment the water went on, he clawed my arm and shoulder while digging his fangs into my back.  Naturally I screamed in pain and horror and flung him off of me.  I cried like a baby and slammed the door shut to examine my wounds.

This was all very amusing to the BF who I could hear talking to the cat outside of the bathroom, “How could you do that to your mother?  After everything she’s done for you… staying up all night, medical bills, sacrificing her figure.”

Very funny. ‘My figure’. UGH.  I looked at my body and decided this was a great time to add some self-loathing to my physical wounds and childlike crying.  The BF came in as I said, “my butt is dumpy and fat” to which he replied, “aww sweetie, at least
you had your twenties.”

“I’m still IN my twenties jerk!”

“Babe, I’m kidding.  You look so good. You could be Brooklyn Decker’s twin!”

This was all too much for me; broken water faucets, cat piss, claw lacerations and sports illustrated model comparisons.   As I left the house I looked back at both of them and said, “I’m not sure which one of you I dislike the most this morning.”