Tag: cat

Streaking and A Change in Scheduling

I was sitting at my computer last night, playing a mindless card game, wasting time until I could justify going to bed. But then there was a commotion in the hallway and muffled curses from the bathroom. I smiled.

The Viking has a shower every night before bed because he’s a motorcycle mechanic and he gets dirty. Izzie joins him in the shower because water fascinates her. It’s ‘their thing’. Every night Izzie waits patiently until The Viking streaks from the bedroom to the bathroom – okay, it’s a very slow streak but he’s still streaking. I can provide proof if it’s absolutely necessary but I’m hoping you’ll just take my word for it.

Last night there was a change in scheduling though. The Viking’s plumbing decided that what should have happened in the morning would now happen at night, just prior to his shower. In order to save time, he streaked….struck?….Straked?….to the bathroom even though he had something else to do before he got in the shower.

Try explaining that to a cat!  Especially to a cat that has been waiting for several hours for The Streaking Viking already and now finds the bathroom door firmly closed against her.

Izzie: Woooaaaahhh! Muuwah! Aaaaa!

The Viking yelling through the bathroom door: Izzie! Stop it!

Izzie: Aaaaaaa!!! Eeeeooowww!! Muuaa!

The Viking: I’m taking a shit, for fuck’s sake!

Izzie, slapping the bathroom door like a drummer in a rock band: Waaaaaa! Aagg!!!

The Viking: You don’t want to be in here! It smells like shit!

Izzie, now sticking one front leg all the way under the door, slapping the inside of the door, and the floor for good measure: Wah!! Eeeeeeoowww! Eeyahh! Wooaahh!

The Viking: Go away!!

Izzie: Eeeyaaahh!! Muuuuaa!!

The Viking: Fuck sakes! You’re going to smell like shit too!! Okay, fine!

The bathroom door opens and then closes quickly. This is actually an impressive feat because the door isn’t all that close to the toilet; there is significant leaning and stretching involved in the maneuver.

The house becomes quiet. For a minute or two. Then, very muffled, I hear a little squeak.

Izzie: Waah?

The Viking: …..

Izzie: Waahh??

The Viking: …..

Izzie: Wah!!

The Viking: I told you it smells like shit in here! Now you have to wait until I’m done.

Izzie: Waaaaaaahhh.

The Viking: Maybe this will teach you to let me take my shits in peace.

Izzie: …..

The Viking: Uuhhkk! Don’t touch that!

Izzie: …..

The Viking: For Fuck’s Sake!! You know you’re not allowed to do that! Leave the paper alone!!

Izzie: …..

The Viking: NO! Don’t do it!

Izzie: …..

The Viking: I need that now! No! Give me that!

Izzie: …..

The Viking: You little Fucker!!

The toilet flushes.

The Viking: Wait! No!! Let me clean it out first! Stop it! Fucks sake! Toilet flushes again. Okay. There!

2 minutes into the shower The Viking is whistling and cooing endearments to Izzie who is happily slapping water droplets on the floor.

Let’s Have Coffee! You Won’t Believe What Just Happened!

Come in, come in! I know I said that I would let you talk this time but I just can’t!  Here’s some Chicken Broth and a crunchy treat instead of coffee because I’m still not allowed to have sugar.

Sit, sit, sit…I know you love my blanket in the sun.

Okay.  You won’t believe what happened! I can’t quite believe it myself! I heard, through the underground, about such a thing, but never once thought it could be real.

It is real though! And I know it’s real because I saw it: Pharaoh the Sparrow!

Don’t scoff, it’s so unattractive. Have I ever lied to you before?

That wasn’t a lie……it was an exaggeration. There is a difference, you know. Just listen.

I did what I do every morning – annoy The Missus and The Viking until they get up and feed me. The Viking came out first and I sat on his shoulder and watched while he made coffee then stuck my amazing whiskers (they look like Sam Elliott’s droopiest mustache!) into his ear. That’s how I remind him my food dish is still empty. And while he was eating his breakfast, I sat in the front room window, checking out my domains.

AND THAT’S WHEN IT HAPPENED!! A bird flew right to the window and sat on the ledge. It stared at me, right in the face! We were only separated by 2 panes of glass! It was a Sparrow and it hunched and fluffed itself up and dared me. I started slapping the window and that damned bird just stared at me without the smallest shred of fear.

I stood up on my back legs and whipped my tail at it and still it just sat there blinking at me. It was obnoxious! What the hell kind of bird can stand against all the aggressive majesty that is a cat? Oh, Magpies and Ravens do it all the time – they have size! – but this was a SPARROW! A dull, boring, brown Sparrow! I could swallow it whole!

I was like “What. The. Fuck?” So I started whispering all the horrible and painful things I will do to it when I finally catch it and that fucker only blinked. It was then that I recalled the legend of Pharaoh the Sparrow. He has dared some of the most dangerous cats in history! There’s talk that he stood up to Angry Cat. ANGRY CAT!! Can you believe that?

There’s a bounty on his head: 4 tins of Beluga Caviar to the cat that finally takes him down. If he’s smart he will leave here. I do not take taunts lightly.

What do you mean you don’t believe me? It’s the absolute truth! I believe everything you say! When you were bragging about your epic battle with that mouse did I call you a liar? No, I did not. Because I’m supportive.

Well, here’s the proof, smart guy!

And don’t even think about hanging around here, hoping to get The Pharaoh from right under my nose.  Now, leave me. Come back when you’re ready to be a good friend.

If You Suddenly Smell Flowers……

I never thought I would need to write about this but it’s become a very big issue lately. It’s so big, in fact, that I’ve resorted to carrying a can of Air Freshener and a large fan.

When our bathroom was renovated The Viking wisely found the largest, fastest, smell-suckingest fan on the market. It’s like a jet engine; it spools up with a whine as it reaches its full rpms and our hair gets pulled toward the ceiling. This is a small house with only one bathroom and the fan plays an important role in our marital happiness.

Ordinarily, it’s The Viking who needs the fan most. We eat the same things but his body does something with food that my body doesn’t. He’s very good about closing the door and turning on the fan but every once in a while I’m concerned Cadaver Dogs will come calling.

Full Disclosure: I will admit to one evening 3 months ago when something happened in my digestive tract. I sat in the livingroom, watching a movie, silently leaking noxious odors and covertly looking at The Viking to see if he could smell what I could smell. And every time, he just continued to watch TV like everything was fine. I was having difficulty keeping a straight face because I couldn’t remember a time when I leaked anything that smelly and because smelly farts are just funny.  Particularly to the Farter.  And the fact that my eyes were watering made it even funnier!

The weird thing is that I was farting in an almost constant stream but 3 out of 4 of those farts were completely innocent, non-smelly, quiet gusts of wind.  However, at one point Izzie woke from her nap in my lap, gave me a nasty look and stomped over to the trunk in front of the window to continue her nap.   And still The Viking said nothing.  The fucking cat, that plays in her own litter box, couldn’t stand the smell but The Viking could?!

Finally, after at least an hour of toxic emissions:

Me: “Oh come on! Can you not smell this!?”

The Viking: Yes.

Me: So why haven’t you left the room?!  Or told me to leave the room?

The Viking: It’s a good movie.

Me: You are willing…..sucking breath in…..to inhale…..Bahahaha!…….noxious fumes so……I can’t breath!……you don’t have to……..wipes tears from eyes……pause the movie?  Didn’t you see…….wiping more tears from eyes……the Cat?!

The Viking: It’s just farts!  It’s not like you shit on the sofa!  And yes, I did see the cat and I almost laughed out loud.  I wanted to know how long you would keep this up without saying anything.

I was laughing so hard I peed my pants a little bit.  Not once in the past hour did he wave a hand in front of his face or try to blow the stink away.  He did attend a boarding school though so I can only assume his odor detectors are fried.

Aside from that one and only time, I emit flowery fragrances. If you’re in our house and you suddenly smell flowers – it’s me. I did that. It’s a gift.

The Viking usually gives a loud courtesy horn that an odor may be seeping into the room and I really appreciate it. If it’s a bad one, he says, “Phew! Sorry, Babe!” and I run. I once walked into the garage to give him a message and it was like walking into a very large and very stinky wall.  I shouted the message from 6 feet away.

Izzie isn’t quite as polite. Day before yesterday, she was in her Cat Castle, ostensibly sleeping, but about every 15 minutes or so a horrible smell floated past my desk while I was trying to work. I waved my hand under my nose and gave her a filthy look but she was smiling.  Payback I assume.

Izzie has also discovered that she loves water, so anytime anyone – especially The Viking – goes into the bathroom she streaks in behind them before they get the door closed. She’s hoping the water in the sink will accidentally be left on so she can do the Hokey Pokey and shake water all around. The real trouble is when The Viking is done with his deposit because it takes him extra time to get Izzie out of the room. That extra time means extra smell seepage and greater spreadage and there is a limit to what the Jet Fan can do.

And then Junior showed up last night. We chatted for a little while then he needed to pee. But he didn’t pee! He pooed! And he didn’t turn the fan on either! After he left I needed to pee. I opened the door to the bathroom and immediately fainted. Holy Shit!! What in the hell is that guy eating?! Due to his fried odor detectors, The Viking braved his way to the fan switch and grabbed the air freshener. It took the combined efforts of both of us to tame that Stink.

We’ve considered putting in a second bathroom – a Poop Room – but we’d have to give up a closet and we don’t have enough of them in the first place. Maybe I should just get one of those nose thingys that Synchronized Swimmers have. They look like they could keep out smells but that would make me a ‘mouth-breather’ and I couldn’t handle the stigma involved.

But look what I did find! I could stuff the beak full of flowers and other nice smelling things. FYI, these are not my pictures. I found them by Googling “beaked masks”.

For everyday wear.
For everyday wear.
For Formal Wear
For Formal Wear
For Family Functions
For Family Functions

And also, Fart Patches for underwear. I wouldn’t have to wear a Beaked Mask at all if people – and certain cats – were responsible Farters!  It might be uncomfortable to remove the patch from Izzie’s rear end though – for both of us.

Not my picture
Not my picture, Googled it.

And on this note I’ll bid you ‘farewell, see you again’ because I’ve had 3 cups of coffee and I need to pee. The Viking made his deposit an hour ago so I think the stink should be gone!

Izzie, Toilet Paper & Short People

This is a rant.  Because I’m feeling ranty.

Apparently, I’m not allowed to bite! It’s a stupid rule and I am resisting the orchestrated suppression of my biting rights as a Feline. What did they think I was?! A sock puppet?! Cats bite! And it’s not my fault if they didn’t do their research. It’s not as though I bite them all the time, either – 3 to 4 times a day, max. I get excited when we play “There’s a Monster Under the Covers on the Bed!” and when I get excited I can’t help myself – it just happens!  It’s not like I plan it.  Stop being sissies! But instead of getting tough, they decide to stop playing “There’s a Monster Under the Covers on the Bed!” altogether. Where’s the logic in that?! How can I learn not to bite if I can’t play any biting games to learn from?

Continue reading “Izzie, Toilet Paper & Short People”

Teeth, Eye Rolls and a Giant Tiger

When it comes to kittens it’s amazing how quickly they grow and learn.  Izzie has gone through a multitude of stages in her short life. Some are just adorable while others are enough to make The Viking and I take refuge in the Bathroom and call 911.

The Tiny Baby Stage: I kind of liked this stage but I really should have just duct taped her to my neck. Or bought a larger bra and tucked her in because then it would be like the good old days when I could accomplish two-handed tasks.

Continue reading “Teeth, Eye Rolls and a Giant Tiger”

Empty….or What a Cat Taught Me

When I left my 23 year marriage I felt like an elastic band that had been pulled too tight and suddenly the pressure was gone and I was left limp and empty and shapeless. It took quite a while to get accustomed to that loosey goosey feeling and only slightly longer to love it.

Then one day I was browsing around a home décor store on my lunch break and found this:

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Izzie – Angry, Angry, Angry!

I got up on the wrong side of the litter box today. It didn’t seem so at first; I snuggled with Missus as soon as she woke up….all on her 0wn…..without any assistance from me at all, then I had my breakfast and played with my new toy for a little while.  Everything seemed perfect; just another wonderful day in paradise.

But then it wasn’t. Because the Missus started doing stuff that I didn’t approve, like playing in my litter box.  She was taking poop out and putting it in a bag – the kind of bag that I like to wear around my neck while I run all over the house like Batman Catman Catwoman.  I don’t like poop in those bags!  So, to make my point I stuck my head through the handles of the bag and ran around the laundry room when she went to answer the phone.

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Izzie – You Are Both Assholes!

The Viking and I go to Arizona twice a year, usually for a month or so each time.  Because we run our own company out of the house, we seldom get two days off in a row and our phone rings from 6 o’clock in the morning to 11 o’clock at night.  So we take time in the spring and in the fall – our slow seasons – for ourselves.

We drive to Lake Havasu City, Arizona from Calgary, Alberta; it’s a trip of about 2300 kilometers (1430 miles) that we do in a day and a half.  We actually enjoy the drive; it’s relaxing and no one is banging on the door or the phone isn’t ringing all hours of the day and night.  We heave a big sigh of relief as Calgary fades behind us.

Continue reading “Izzie – You Are Both Assholes!”

Izzie – The Flatulence Has Subsided

It has been almost 3 weeks since I was abducted from my family.  What began as a damned nightmare is becoming okay.  I have toys littered from one end of the prison to the other, they feed me regularly and they have treats which I really enjoy.  Someone should tell them I would prefer they feed me the treats all the time and forget about that other shit they put in my bowl.  There should be some payoffs for being catnapped!

I have grown a lot; I’m nearly twice as big as I was when first arrived here. I can now jump onto the big brown sitty thing and onto the bed that The Viking and the Missus sleep in.

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Izzie – Snot & Tears…..or…..Survival

My survival is in question. Honestly. And I have engineered my own demise which makes it all the more tragic.  I knew it would be difficult, knew that there would be issues but Geez!  I had truly forgotten what a pain in the ass a fucking kitten could be!  She’s a nightmare! And I freely and willingly went along with the acquisition of the feline in question.  Wouldn’t Freud have something to say about this?  Isn’t this sort of like volunteering for the Spanish Inquisition?

She’s a good girl really, but she’s so busy! I just get her out of trouble in one spot as she’s galloping to the next spot.  Pet Smart and Petland have both vomited all over the house; there are so many damned toys it’s like a mine field.  Bells, rattles, catnip, fishing poles, treat puzzle, ball puzzle and a Kitty Whack-A-Mole…..how many toys does it take to entertain one kitten?  In desperation I am throwing anything and everything on the floor (toothpaste box, pen, an extra-large paperclip, shopping bag, toilet paper roll, an empty medication bottle, shoe laces, etc.) hoping that something will hold her attention for more than 16 fucking seconds.

Continue reading “Izzie – Snot & Tears…..or…..Survival”