Cat Beasts

Apr. 22nd, 2009 11:07 pm
devilgrrl: (Default)


Proof that I do not have cats, I have feral raccoons. Here is Fattus, inspecting an empty popcorn back for potential noms.

Oh, Cat

Apr. 19th, 2009 12:20 am
devilgrrl: (Default)
I'm sitting here on the couch, chilling out, and suddenly, I hear nomming. So I look up and there's the cat, snarfing down something as quick as possible, because I so might steal it. I'm like that.

Now, I cleaned, so there is pretty much nothing on the floor. I'm all CAT, what the fuck are you eating? She scoots off, but before she does, I saw what was in her mouth.

She managed to find the one piece of kettle corn I had dropped. The one edible thing on the floor and she found it. It was, apparently, delicious.

Now that I've established that, I am realizing that Goddammit is both quiet and not where I can see her. This is generally Not Good. Not five seconds later, she comes parading out with one of my ponies in her mouth, which she somehow managed to get off of the doorknob.

What this boils down to is I am stand here, in my underwear, with one cat trying to get her head in my bag of popcorn and the other one about to eat a hair tie. I am trying to decide which one I should do something about. I decided that catching and removing a pony from the cat's bum later on was worse than the other one with the popcorn, so I go to grab her.

She runs, the other one grabs the popcorn and goes, and I'm still standing here, in my underwear, like an idiot.

And of course, soon as I sit down, there goes Goddammit parading by with a dirty band-aid in her mouth. Lather, rinse, repeat. I love that my cats pick trash, really.

Of course, there is a full bowl of fresh water and food that I put out less than an hour ago. But no, band-aids and ponies are so much better. Perhaps Madame would like some potty water to finish dinner off?

Dear Cat:

Feb. 9th, 2009 10:29 pm
devilgrrl: (Default)
We seemed to have reached another impasse, Cat. It seems, in the last few weeks, you have decided that if I get within 5 feet of you, I am going to develop fangs and EAT YOUR SOUL. This is not true, but since it keeps you out from underfoot in the Unholy Early™, I am also not inclined to really make an effort to change your mind.

I am ok if you want to be down here. I am mostly ok if you want to loiter around the bathroom. I am not pleased about your potty drinking; I know this has been a past issue. But Cat, this morning was REALLY the last straw.

Not only were you in the bathroom, not only were you crouched like a gargoyle on my toilet but when I walked by, YOU HISSED AT ME LIKE I WAS GOING TO STEAL YOUR PRECIOUS POTTY WATER.

First, I was not even going in the bathroom. I just about to leave for work. But seriously, really? Where do you get off hissing at me ON MY TOILET? If it were your food bowl, I could understand. If I were feeding you something and tried to take it back, fine, BUT IT IS A TOILET! It is my toilet.

I am going to start shutting the bathroom door, Cat, if this keeps up. Despite what you think, this is not a Very Large Cat Palace. While the bathroom may contain a throne, it is not Goddammit's Throne Room. You have your own litterbox, you don't need to commandeer mine.

Dear Cat:

Jan. 6th, 2009 11:44 pm
devilgrrl: (Default)
It is a sad day when I go to use the bathroom and not only are you sitting on the seat, not only are you drinking the toilet water, but I PHYSICALLY HAVE TO MOVE YOU to use it. Looking guilty doesn't cut it. We both know you aren't supposed to be drinking out of there.

What makes it worse is that, not 10 minutes earlier, I put out fresh water.

Cat, it is the same water that is in the toilet bowl EXCEPT CLEANER. It all comes the city. It is not somehow more delicious because it's normally closed. I will buy that maybe, MAYBE, shower water tastes better, but that's only because Lush things are great and salty. Since you had to sit and watch me this morning, I will also assume it's more entertaining.

You are not entitled to sit in the kitchen and mew pathetically because I had the nerve to move you off MY EFFING TOILET. You are a cat, shouldn't you have some dignity. Not allowing you to drink potty water is not tantamount to cat abuse.

While we're discussing things, I am not obligated to give you chicken every time I open the fridge. Despite what you might think, it is not the Magic Chicken Box. I have other important things in there, like olives and beer, and fake meat, WHICH I SHARE WITH YOU. No one has kicked your puppy if yummies don't fall like manna from heaven. You may not sulk.

Sitting under my bed makes it worse. Revenge horking will be treated as open hostility. I will win, Cat, if this turns into a battle royale. Why? Because I have thumbs and now matter how much you're eating from your paws, you don't.

Nyah nyah.
devilgrrl: (Default)
Dear Cat:

Our Christmas tree has now been in the house for ten days. For the first several days, we left it up, unadorned, for the simple fact that Steven and I assumed you would be all up in its shit as you are with, well, everything.

But no. You were terrified of the scary green thing. You hissed, you clung to me, you avoided the living room like the plague. We were surprised by this, albeit pleasantly. Of course, we have no breakable ornaments, just in case.

But now that you have discovered that the giant green monster will not shoot lazars at you nor does it like to nom tender little kittens, you're interested in it. I would like to propose the following rules:

1. Do not chew the wires. There is no such thing as The Electric Cat Slide and if anyone is telling you otherwise, they're a damn liar,

2. Do not lick the ornaments. Yes, they are from IKEA and IKEA has many delicious things, but these are not some of them. The only thing they might contain is lead and, despite its symbol being Pb, it is not peanut butter nor good for you. We prefer both our gas and our cats unleaded here.

3. Stop drinking the tree's water. It is not Gourmet Water Bowl: Limited Holiday Edition. This also does not mean that you are allowed to drink from the toilet bowl, either.

4. Wrapping paper is not a cat toy. I know it's crinkly and delicious and you like to hoard it, but a) you're not a dragon and b) those presents under the tree are NOT FOR YOU. Santa is watching you, Cat, and will not bring you excellent noms if you eat what few presents I've bothered to wrap.

5. The tree is no longer living. It is unnecessary for you to chirp at it, stalk it from under the couch, or attempt to pounce on it. Tree > You.

6. Stop chewing the branches. I am tired of chasing you off. They're not good for you nor will they make excellent barfs later. Stepping in cat barf in the middle of the night is not a sign of esteem and affection.

We will all have an enjoyable season should you follow these rules. If not, there's always the Spray Bottle of Attitude Readjustment.

Fail!Cats

Nov. 15th, 2008 12:05 am
devilgrrl: (Default)
Dear God, why does my cat not only eat dropped Lucky Charms, but then beg for them like they are the MOST DELICIOUS NOMS EVAR!!
devilgrrl: (Default)

Steven has a cold and was napping. Goddammit, who's been unusually chummy, decided to nap with him.

Well...

Oct. 17th, 2008 12:14 am
devilgrrl: (Default)
I've finally found out what is wrong with Goddammit. Here, I've been blaming the fact she gnaws on the stairs, but it seems that's not true.

I'm trying to curb the shredding behaviour, so when I hear her rattling around, I usually get up to see what she's into now. I got over to the kitchen and there she is, licking the side of my tequila bottle. My kitten is a lush.

That certainly explains why she's always falling off things. Apparently, she's entered into the rebellious teenaged portion of her life. All she needs are some belly shirts and booty shorts. Thank God she's spayed... At least we won't have any more teen kitty pregnancies.

And the other one... It seems somewhere along the line, she's decided she wants to be a raccoon because she's started doing the washing thing and drinking off her paw. I have no idea where she picked this up, unless she's watching Animal Planet when I'm not home. Goddammit is doing the same thing with food: scooping it out and eating from her paw.

They've also learnt enough english to understand when I say "Go bother Steven" while we're eating.

Anyone want to take a bet on how long before they kill us in our sleep and take over our lives?

Blah

Oct. 16th, 2008 05:25 pm
devilgrrl: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] geobabe, you win the Dr. Intartoobz award. I went back to the doctor for the eleventy millionth time and it is, indeed, labyrinthitis. Best symptom ever? Vertigo. When Steven gets in, I have to have him run me over to Le Target and fill my more prescriptions so that I can drive to work tomorrow.

I apparently napped through the absolute worst of the dizziness this morning, which is something.

My wonderful, darling, genius of a cat was eating dried pasta today. It seems that I had dropped a wagon wheel the other day while making dinner and she found it. All I could hear was this awful crunching and I'm all, wtf are you eating, cat?

And she just stares at me, nom nom nom, crunching away like it was the greatest thing ever. When I went to get up, she took it and ran off with it like I was going to STEAL THE HALF-EATEN DRIED PASTA. Please cat, I have a fridge full of people food that is way tastier than something I dropped on the floor how many days ago.

Now, mind you, the cat is already on my shit list because she decided today would be the best day to play four legged alarm clock AT 5:15 IN THE MORNING. She's way more efficient than the regular kind because the sleep feature only works in the middle of the afternoon.

And of course, if one of them is down here, the other is not far behind. After she boots up the stairs, the kitten was just sitting and staring at me for God knows what. She now meows at me when I ask what the hell her problem is. I need two talkative cats like I need a hole in the head.

Blah, my feet are cold today. Back to lying down on the couch.
devilgrrl: (Default)
Dear Cat:

I understand you're essentially still a baby and you are awfully adorable, but that is not going to save me for grinding you up and making you into cat sausage if you DO NOT STOP CHEWING ON EVERYTHING.

You have cat toys. What makes my $112 art history book so much tastier? I can't even find a place to put it that you can't get your grubby little paws onto. Are you frakking the reincarnation of Houdini or what? Second, if I am reading said book and you are nomming on the corner, THERE IS NO PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY. I am watching your mouth nom the corner.

When I shoo you off the couch for chewing my damn expensive book, the appropriate response is not to go into the bathroom and sullenly lick the shower walls.

Watching me like vultures does not guarantee I will share my chinese food with you. I do not, for one minute, buy that you are so starved that you have to resort to chewing up the Old Masters. You have kibble, I PUT IT OUT MYSELF.

You need to understand that we recently renamed you. It wasn't because we didn't like Racetrack; it was very appropriate. The problem is that so many things I say to you start with "Goddammit..." that it's become the only thing you answer to. I admit, Steven and I are kind of amused by this, but really? How many times must I have said that in order for you to THINK THAT IS YOUR NAME?

I appreciate that you and Boomer have been nearly attached to me all week, making sure that I don't wake up alone and that I'm not imagine the crushing weight on my chest. It's cute when you've jumped on the couch, curled up with me, and started purring. Why can't you be like this all the time? Life would be so much happier.

Short of that, try to restrain your chewing to non-vital things, like chinese menus.
devilgrrl: (Frak)
This is not my week. I didn't really expect it to be, with school starting and all, but it just got better yesterday. Why?

Because a worm fell out of my cat's butt.

They don't go out. One of them has never been out and the other hasn't been out in almost a year. They've both been to the vet recently, for Christ's sake, and they were fine. But no, after being late for school and missing dinner, I needed cat butt worms to boot.

And of course, does anyone want to take them to the vet? No. All I get is fix it with my invisible money and spare time. Yay. Also, Steven is convinced we're all going to get tapeworms and die. I told him not to lick the cat's butt and he should be fine. If not, hey, he keeps saying he wants to lose weight...

Internets, does anyone have a suggestion for a good dewormer? Or at least what to avoid? I know [livejournal.com profile] nowitsdark0 gave me suggests already, but I am open to more.

Someday, I will write a nice entry about my trip to Vermont (Or: How I Feel Down A Hill) and my classes, but I'm too headachy.

Whhhhy

Aug. 28th, 2008 01:26 am
devilgrrl: (Default)
Dear Internets:

My cat is insane. She has been wedged between the cushions for a good 45 minutes. No, she is not on catnip.








Hiding under my bra Hiding under my bra

Or digging for China










Still digging... Still digging...

I wish I knew what was so amazing about the couch.


Kitteh!

Aug. 13th, 2008 03:06 am
devilgrrl: (Default)
Since a few people have asked, this is a picture of the kitten, who is now six months old. Don't be fooled, she was purring the whole time this picture was taken:

Photo Post!

Jan. 7th, 2008 11:32 pm
devilgrrl: (Default)
Because I need to post 8,010x today.

Kitteh )

Kitteh actually needs a name of some kind (especially since she's apparently "my" cat now.) Preferably something from Battlestar Galactica, for the few of you guys who watch. Kitteh is a girl.

Charcoal Portrait of my grandparents )

And last, but not least: Lush Porn )

I have to work tomorrow and I am tiiiired. Enjoy the photos. Also, separate art photo blog, eventually? Y/N?

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